Ryan's story

“A few months ago, I stood at the edge of something vast and terrifying. I was exhausted; mentally, emotionally, and in ways that words struggle to capture, in ways that I would not even want to capture in words. I’d recently been through a relationship break-up, I wasn’t really present when I was hanging out with my friends, I’d left a job due to a toxic environment and my new job was overwhelming, I was in the process of being diagnosed with ADHD – everything just became too much. Impulsively, I decided to end my life but I didn’t really want to do it. I called 999 because I didn’t know what else to do in that moment, it felt like there was no way forward. But, as fate (or a well-placed recommendation) would have it, I found myself at James’ Place, meeting the person who would help me start piecing things back together: my therapist Miles.

I didn’t know what to expect and I was slightly on guard, but from the moment I arrived it just felt natural and easy to open up, I felt that he really understood me. Now, if life were a musical, something Miles and I often joked about, this would be the part where the music swells, and I have a dramatic solo about finding myself. (Cue the key change.) But real life isn’t quite so neat. Healing doesn’t happen in a perfect three act structure, and there’s no eleven o’clock number that signals a triumphant, overnight transformation. Instead, there were conversations. Hard ones, honest ones. Where Miles gently but firmly guided me toward something I’d been searching for all my life: my sense of self.

For years, I struggled with authenticity and self-esteem, two elusive things that always seemed just out of reach. Anxiety and depression had been my unwelcome but familiar companions, and I had relied on medication to keep their voices at bay. But with each session, I started to recognise something I hadn’t noticed before; a quiet, persistent truth beneath all the noise. It was an incredible journey, and all the conversations we had helped me shift my focus and realise my life was worth living.

I am not a new person. People often say things like, “You’re a completely different person now!” as if I’ve been rewritten from scratch. But I don’t see it that way. I am, and always will be, the sum of my parts. Every joy, every pain, every moment of struggle. It’s the Ship of Theseus paradox: if you replace each part of a ship one by one, is it still the same ship? I think it is. I am not someone else; I am just a fuller, more honest version of myself.

That’s not to say the change hasn’t been profound. Those around me have noticed it. They tell me I seem lighter, more present, as if I’ve somehow stepped into my own skin for the first time. My reliance on medication has drastically reduced, my anxiety no longer rules me, and the world feels… possible again.

James’ Place didn’t give me a new life; it gave me back my life. And Miles, patient, insightful, and armed with an encyclopedic knowledge of musical theatre, helped me find my way. As the song in Wicked says ‘Because I knew you, I have been changed for good’

I’m still me. Still flawed, still figuring things out. But for the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward. And that, I think, is a kind of magic all its own.”

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