Chapter One
Flipping the Switch
For much of my life, I believed that if I could just flip a certain switch in my brain — some hidden lever deep inside — then I could choose life over death. I believed that flipping that switch would stop the suicidal ideation, the chronic idealization of not being, and replace it with a desire to live.
I thought that with the right click of internal circuitry, I would become happy. Productive. Whole.
The practices described in this book — both physical and existential — are not that magical switch. They don’t instantly kill depression or ignite joy. No more than doing one set of pushups transforms your body. But over time, with consistency, these practices have helped me change. Slowly, steadily, they’ve allowed me to become a more grounded, generally happier, and more productive person.
Get Yourself Moving
The first key was simple: I had to start doing something good for myself, even when I didn’t feel like it.
That’s where this journey began — with walking. Not walking to get somewhere. Walking as exercise. Walking as presence.
And while walking, I didn’t listen to music. No podcasts. No distractions. Just me, in my body, feeling what I could feel.
(Though I realise — I’ve since developed an app, and you might be listening to this very book on it right now!)
But when I say “no distractions,” I mean it in the deeper sense. If you’re using the app — and my voice is helping you focus, not pull you away — then I’m glad. That’s not a distraction. That’s presence. That’s the point.
I focused on the rhythm of my breath.
I paid attention to my posture — spine tall, hips balanced, shoulders back and relaxed.
My jaw unclenched.
I let my arms swing naturally, matching the stride of my legs.
I felt the ground meeting my feet with steady, purposeful steps.
I noticed the breeze on my cheek.
The warmth of sunlight.
The scent of suburban Melbourne.
Sometimes I checked my watch or pedometer, aiming for 10,000 steps.
That was it. That was the practice. I felt myself, instead of judging myself.
And doing that — almost every day — lifted my mood just enough.
One day, in the midst of that movement, something shifted. A Mishna I’d studied many times came to mind — Pirkei Avot 1:14. I had previously thought about Torah during walks, treating it as mobile study time. But this time was different.
I broke the Mishna down phrase by phrase and let those fragments rest softly in the back of my mind as I walked. I didn’t analyze them. I just let the words breathe inside me, while I focused on walking.
And slowly, those words began to work their quiet magic.
They allowed a deeper part of my mind to meet the emotional and existential questions I had long avoided. Over time, clarity emerged. The mental reflex of self-negativity began to loosen.
I have received support from many people over the years — and I am deeply grateful. But at the end of the day, managing my mental illness required something more. It required me — doing the work.
Not grand work. Just real, simple, daily work: walking. And eventually, meditative walking.
Rebuilding the SelfHealing from depression is like rehabilitating a damaged muscle.
Sometimes, first, you rest.
Then you begin small exercises.
You repeat them over time.
Gradually, you move into deeper strength and more advanced work.
This is how the process unfolds.
So while I walk — for aerobic health, yes — I also allow a single phrase from the Mishna to settle into me. Each phrase brings out something different. Something true. Something useful.
A Brief Summary of the IssuesBefore we dive into the detailed reflections later in the book, here’s a brief overview of the three questions from the Mishna, and how they connect to the core issues that have shaped my depression — and my healing.
These serve as an outline of the journey ahead, and also a reference for returning to the central themes later, without needing to reread the entire book.
1. “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?”If I feel disconnected from myself, who am I letting define me?
As a teenager, I once scrawled a question in a journal: “Who decides me?”
If my sense of self-worth depends on what I think someone else thinks about me… then I don’t really have a self.
This first phrase is about reclaiming agency. About being able to say: I am me. I choose me. I stand with myself.
And once that foundation is restored, we naturally move to the next question:
2. “But if I am only for myself, what am I?”Now that I have a self — what do I do with it?
How am I living?
Am I aligned with my values?
Am I actualizing the potential I know is in me?
This question demands an honest inventory. It’s not about shame or ego. It’s about integrity. Am I living the life I want to live?
3. “If not now, when?”This final line is less a question and more a call to presence.
Am I here? Right now?
If not, am I stuck in the past — replaying regrets, traumas, old loops?
Or am I lost in the future — worrying, fantasizing, fleeing?
There’s nothing wrong with remembering the past or planning for the future. That’s healthy. But obsessive rumination and anxious projection? That’s something else.
This phrase brings me back to the moment. Back to the breath.
Back to walking.
The Switch RevisitedIn the end, these words don’t flip a switch — they replace it.
They give me something better than an instant fix: they give me a practice.
The idea that we must love ourselves in order to be happy — it’s not new.
I’ve heard it for decades. Therapists, books, well-meaning friends — they all said it. And I believed them. Intellectually.
But I didn’t feel it.
Because when I felt terrible about myself, I couldn’t just decide to feel differently. Depression isn’t a mood. It’s a neurological pattern.
My depressive thinking was a reflex — not a choice.
It was shaped by my brain chemistry, my traumas, my mistakes.
It wasn’t cured by pep talks.
It wasn’t erased by compliments.
Only when I combined movement with reflection did I find a way to loosen that grip.
Only when I walked with words did I begin to hear the truth inside them.
That’s what this book is about.
For much of my life, I believed that if I could just flip a certain switch in my brain — some hidden lever deep inside — then I could choose life over death. I believed that flipping that switch would stop the suicidal ideation, the chronic idealization of not being, and replace it with a desire to live.
I thought that with the right click of internal circuitry, I would become happy. Productive. Whole.
The practices described in this book — both physical and existential — are not that magical switch. They don’t instantly kill depression or ignite joy. No more than doing one set of pushups transforms your body. But over time, with consistency, these practices have helped me change. Slowly, steadily, they’ve allowed me to become a more grounded, generally happier, and more productive person.
Get Yourself Moving
The first key was simple: I had to start doing something good for myself, even when I didn’t feel like it.
That’s where this journey began — with walking. Not walking to get somewhere. Walking as exercise. Walking as presence.
And while walking, I didn’t listen to music. No podcasts. No distractions. Just me, in my body, feeling what I could feel.
(Though I realise — I’ve since developed an app, and you might be listening to this very book on it right now!)
But when I say “no distractions,” I mean it in the deeper sense. If you’re using the app — and my voice is helping you focus, not pull you away — then I’m glad. That’s not a distraction. That’s presence. That’s the point.
I focused on the rhythm of my breath.
I paid attention to my posture — spine tall, hips balanced, shoulders back and relaxed.
My jaw unclenched.
I let my arms swing naturally, matching the stride of my legs.
I felt the ground meeting my feet with steady, purposeful steps.
I noticed the breeze on my cheek.
The warmth of sunlight.
The scent of suburban Melbourne.
Sometimes I checked my watch or pedometer, aiming for 10,000 steps.
That was it. That was the practice. I felt myself, instead of judging myself.
And doing that — almost every day — lifted my mood just enough.
One day, in the midst of that movement, something shifted. A Mishna I’d studied many times came to mind — Pirkei Avot 1:14. I had previously thought about Torah during walks, treating it as mobile study time. But this time was different.
I broke the Mishna down phrase by phrase and let those fragments rest softly in the back of my mind as I walked. I didn’t analyze them. I just let the words breathe inside me, while I focused on walking.
And slowly, those words began to work their quiet magic.
They allowed a deeper part of my mind to meet the emotional and existential questions I had long avoided. Over time, clarity emerged. The mental reflex of self-negativity began to loosen.
I have received support from many people over the years — and I am deeply grateful. But at the end of the day, managing my mental illness required something more. It required me — doing the work.
Not grand work. Just real, simple, daily work: walking. And eventually, meditative walking.
Rebuilding the SelfHealing from depression is like rehabilitating a damaged muscle.
Sometimes, first, you rest.
Then you begin small exercises.
You repeat them over time.
Gradually, you move into deeper strength and more advanced work.
This is how the process unfolds.
So while I walk — for aerobic health, yes — I also allow a single phrase from the Mishna to settle into me. Each phrase brings out something different. Something true. Something useful.
A Brief Summary of the IssuesBefore we dive into the detailed reflections later in the book, here’s a brief overview of the three questions from the Mishna, and how they connect to the core issues that have shaped my depression — and my healing.
These serve as an outline of the journey ahead, and also a reference for returning to the central themes later, without needing to reread the entire book.
1. “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?”If I feel disconnected from myself, who am I letting define me?
As a teenager, I once scrawled a question in a journal: “Who decides me?”
If my sense of self-worth depends on what I think someone else thinks about me… then I don’t really have a self.
This first phrase is about reclaiming agency. About being able to say: I am me. I choose me. I stand with myself.
And once that foundation is restored, we naturally move to the next question:
2. “But if I am only for myself, what am I?”Now that I have a self — what do I do with it?
How am I living?
Am I aligned with my values?
Am I actualizing the potential I know is in me?
This question demands an honest inventory. It’s not about shame or ego. It’s about integrity. Am I living the life I want to live?
3. “If not now, when?”This final line is less a question and more a call to presence.
Am I here? Right now?
If not, am I stuck in the past — replaying regrets, traumas, old loops?
Or am I lost in the future — worrying, fantasizing, fleeing?
There’s nothing wrong with remembering the past or planning for the future. That’s healthy. But obsessive rumination and anxious projection? That’s something else.
This phrase brings me back to the moment. Back to the breath.
Back to walking.
The Switch RevisitedIn the end, these words don’t flip a switch — they replace it.
They give me something better than an instant fix: they give me a practice.
The idea that we must love ourselves in order to be happy — it’s not new.
I’ve heard it for decades. Therapists, books, well-meaning friends — they all said it. And I believed them. Intellectually.
But I didn’t feel it.
Because when I felt terrible about myself, I couldn’t just decide to feel differently. Depression isn’t a mood. It’s a neurological pattern.
My depressive thinking was a reflex — not a choice.
It was shaped by my brain chemistry, my traumas, my mistakes.
It wasn’t cured by pep talks.
It wasn’t erased by compliments.
Only when I combined movement with reflection did I find a way to loosen that grip.
Only when I walked with words did I begin to hear the truth inside them.
That’s what this book is about.