At a very young age, I began to distance myself from my parents. I didn’t feel enough, didn’t feel seen, and didn’t feel safe.

I became the "nice guy," uncentered, unable to set boundaries, out of my power, and terrified of rejection. I isolated myself. To cope with these feelings of unworthiness, I started taking drugs at a young age and found myself in a series of toxic relationships, hoping someone would rescue me from the misery I felt.

Then, tragedy struck—my father died in a climbing accident. My sister and I went to the Pyrenees to recover his body, a horrific and challenging experience that only made me more rigid and bitter toward life. I wanted to die.

I left everything behind and isolated myself on a small island in Thailand for almost a year. My daily routine became a cycle of drugs and meaningless sex, with only scuba diving keeping me afloat in an ocean of pain, shame, sadness, anger, and loneliness.

Eventually, I met the mother of my children. She got pregnant, and I was unprepared for fatherhood. I wasn’t ready to be a man; I was still a helpless child, hurting and struggling. I repeatedly recreated my mother’s unhealthy attachment patterns in every relationship I entered.

For ten years, I fought for something that was poisoned from the start, lacking the courage to reclaim the power my mother took from me as a child. I saw myself as a victim, always blaming and criticizing the Universe, and I sank into a very dark hole.

I needed help and change.