He didn’t wait for the light to find him; he chose himself, step by step, until the light came back. Marc used to think Christmas was pure joy, family, food, and easy laughter. But in 2020, everything flipped. Something inside him shifted on the eve of a holiday he’d always loved. He went to bed expecting rest to reset him. The next morning, his mind was a storm. Intrusive thoughts crashed in, telling him he was a danger to his family and that the only way to protect them was to disappear. Panic attacks hit in waves. He slept for hours during the day and dreaded the nights. Reality blurred. He felt alone, frightened, and he was losing his grip, so he even called the doctor to say he might need to be admitted for his own safety.
Just before the new year, a friend noticed he wasn’t himself and reached out. Their messages were small lifelines. With each exchange, the heaviness lifted a little. It wasn’t a cure, but it was enough to start moving. Marc began rebuilding from the ground up. He listed triggers and cut out anything that fed the anxiety, such as alcohol, caffeine, certain music, and films. He spoke to his GP and started sertraline. Things got worse at first, then slowly steadier. He added long runs and weight training. Some days he took two steps forward, one step back, but he kept going. Remembering how much it helped to be seen, he started a blog to talk openly about his mental health.
He worried no one would care, or worse, that people would judge. Instead, messages poured in. Strangers shared their struggles; they traded tips that made the hard days a little lighter. The trolls showed up, too, but he could let them fade into the background after what he’d survived. Helping others helped him.
Meanwhile, he and his partner were expecting twin boys in February 2021. Marc put pressure on himself to be “fixed” before they arrived. He learned the hard way that recovery doesn’t follow a deadline. It’s not a straight road, and there’s no shortcut. The days were full and sweet when the twins were born, but weekends at home still triggered his worries. He tried CBD oil, meditation, and more counseling. He slowly figured out what worked for him and stuck with it. Private therapy became a turning point. His counselor helped him name the anxiety and, more importantly, accept it. They unpacked old patterns and early wounds. As Marc practiced new tools, the balance changed. He noticed five steps forward before a stumble. Bad days still came, but they no longer erased the progress; if anything, they proved how far he’d traveled.
Marc felt more alive a year after that dark Christmas than he had in years. He wasn’t pretending he was “over it.” He was honest: still on the path, still doing the work, but no longer lost in the woods. He had chosen to invest in himself, which reshaped everything: his health, relationships, and how he showed up as a dad. He’s adding back small joys, bit by bit. He listens to his body and his limits. He shares openly so others feel less alone. He knows mental illness often hides behind a smile, so he tells people to check on their loved ones, even the ones who seem fine.
He’s proof that the quiet decision to fight back, to ask for help, to take the meds, to move your body, to talk, can crack open the dark. Marc’s lesson is hard-earned and straightforward: you can’t rush healing but can choose it daily. He chose therapy over silence, action over avoidance, hope over fear, for himself, for his partner, and for his boys.
