My First Confession

I’ve never been to confession. Ever. Today, that’s going to change.

Ever since I started my endeavor to become a writer and anxiety coach, I’ve found myself on quite the journey — highs, lows, and a healthy dose of, “have you lost your fucking mind, Nicky?

When you put yourself out there, you’ll come up against a lot of shit. Period. In a weird way, it’s cool because you build resilience. No choice in the matter.

I laugh if I’m called a snowflake. I roll my eyes in frustration when I’m called an idiot or given a hard time for my language from people who don’t get it. I’ll jump in an debate with anyone that says the mental health epidemic is just the way it is—accept it, and I flat out can’t stand being called a capitalist bastard by someone who expects me to give them my time and energy for free. I also get annoyed when people double down on my mistakes because of what I do — as if I’m holier than thou! I’m not.

All this is a combination of others shit being projected on to me as well as my own shit when I don’t just brush it off.

With that being said, I’m writing today to confess for the first time. These are my sins — or at least some of them — and I’m not apologizing for any—please forgive me.


It comes up time and again. “Your language is atrocious, you would be so much more successful if you didn’t curse, you sound so angry blah blah blah.” This straight up annoys me because those who tell me not to swear—swear. And most of the people that come at me with this don’t understand anxiety or depression.

This is me. If you hang out with me, I will swear. If you don’t like profanity, we won’t hang out because I’ll still swear. It’s as simple as that. If you spend a lot of time with me, you’ll probably up your swearing game as a result. Part of me probably thinks it’s cool, and I’m sure there is some psychological meaning behind it, but I love it, so I don’t care. I’m not about to give up my God-given talent to accommodate someone else’s ideologies.

Unless I am being paid to represent someone else, I will always endeavor to be myself.

There is significant research into the effectiveness of using jarring language to hammer a point home. There is also research suggesting those that swear are more trustworthy. I don’t know if the latter is legit, but I like the sound of it. Regardless, all of this is research I was completely unaware of when I started out. 

A friend with my best interests at heart wrote: “less fucks, more facts” in response to an article littered with facts. This was my response, and pretty much sums up how I feel about it…

“I completely understand and appreciate you are trying to help, but if I’m going to write, I can only do it my way. Otherwise, I wouldn’t write. Period.

I strongly believe a massive cause of anxiety and depression is peoples fear of being themselves, so if I write to appeal to the masses or others ideologies, I’d be a hypocrite writing in fear of being myself.

And I am well aware of what would be required to appeal to the masses. No way. This will work out my way, or it won’t work out at all. I can live with that.

I get enough emails from people saying how much they appreciate my work and that my words resonate more with them than anything they’ve read on the subject before.

Today, I spoke to a war vet who was messed up because his country sent him to war to come back in a body-bag or with serious psychological disorders. He got the latter, and he reached out because he found my work both refreshing and helpful.”

If you have an honest and open conversation with someone who’s been shat on by life, they won’t be reciting fairytales. The world is harsh. This is raw. It reflects a harsh reality for far too many—all in the name of a good life.

Social media and smartphones are literally causing children to end their lives, and apparently, that’s ok? Because those companies make billions of dollars. I go on a podcast, and before I speak, the interviewer has to give a fucking trigger warning!

The mental health crisis goes way beyond the word, “fuck.” 

I try my best to bring some humour to an otherwise, very dark and depressing subject. This is my art, my words and my learnings from some messed up shit. If you don’t like it. Don’t read it.


This is not some travel blog loaded with affiliate links telling you how to live an awesome life by doing what I do.

This is 16 years real-life experiences on some of the harshest lessons life can teach us from its biggest blows. I’m not pretending to have it all figured out, but what I teach, can save a lot of people from a lot of shit. And I will always endeavor to provide my clients with the very best service to help them navigate this shit storm ASAP.

I offer plenty of free content, but if you need help and want results, you can go it alone and make all the mistakes I did, or you can fast track everything by investing in your mental health.

I know I know. I get it. I’m just a blogger, what do I really know? I’m not a psychologist nor do I have a Ph.D. 

A psychologist never helped me. They actually made things worse. There are many Ph.D.’s out there I admire, but with anxiety, I’m convinced you have to know just how much of a bastard it is to really help someone. And no textbook can teach this.

As Gandhi said;

Knowledge gained through experience is far superior and many times more useful than bookish knowledge.

Those that are prepared to invest a small amount of money in their mental health stand to make serious gains and have a way better life as a result. I don’t want to sound too harsh here, but if you can’t accept that and think it’s unfair, you’re still caught up in self-pity and are yet to accept your reality. I highly recommend you think long and hard about that because things get worse — not better. 

Clearly, I’m biased, so don’t take my word for it, ask anyone who’s been through the ringer because of it and they’ll tell you they wish they intervened earlier or made better decisions with the help they got.

I do give away a lot of my time for free, but make no mistake about it, I am not a saint nor a charity. While my motivation to do this work is to help ensure you don’t end up a complete mess like I did, it is still a business. And what you ultimately pay for is 16 years experience that can save you a whole lot of time, money and life.

I offer three programs built around one core program. I am not going to try and upsell you secret packages when you sign on. The packages are tiered, and explain who should be buying what. That’s really important. The more expensive ones provide the greatest results because I only have so much energy and time to give. I have about as much interest in financial stress as the next person.

If you need help and invest in yourself through my program, I will hold your hand and cheer for you as best I can till you’re ready to grab your life by the balls once again. If it turns out to be a bad investment, you get your money back. I hope that’s transparent enough.

And by the way, if you really can’t afford $95 and you need this, get in touch. I couldn’t give a shit about heavily discounting it or giving it away for free if needs be. Just send me an email explaining your situation, what you can afford, and we’ll put you in there. But make sure you’re not emailing me from an iPhone. I also don’t want to hear from you if you’ve enough money to get wasted on the weekend.


Yes, I still get anxious. Yes, I still have fears. Yes, I still question myself, my sanity and everything I’m doing. Not all the time — from time to time. Shock-horror. Compared to where I was, my life is beyond incredible. And it continues to get better. Any anxiety I now get I use to drive me. It used to paralyze me. 

These are my sins. Well, some of them. But enough of that for one day. Who ever said confession was fun?