ADDICTION TOOK OVER MY LIFE. HERE’S HOW I BEAT IT TO END UP ON TOP OF THE WORLD
It was at the summit of Julianatop, the highest point in Suriname (in the Amazon), that the tears finally came. I wasn’t expecting it. After everything that had happened, I almost felt broken, emotionally. The mental health crisis that had robbed me of my dream career, relationships and years of my life had also made me nervous about expressing myself.
Now, as I looked out over the miles of uninhabited jungle I had travelled through alone, I found myself sobbing uncontrollably. Not only was I alive, but the dream I’d carried around for more than a decade was a reality: I was the first person in history to climb to the highest peaks in all 12 countries of South America.
Christianity and straight As
I’ve always been an extreme person. I didn’t enjoy school, and was consistently in trouble. I attended a church school in my hometown of Berkhamsted, and left at 16.
It was around the same time that I really committed to my Christian faith. My parents are active members of their church – Dad is an ordained pastor – so they supported my decision when, aged 18, I enrolled at a famous Bible School in California (nicknamed “Hogwarts” by the local townspeople). The school is heavily evangelical.
There was one occasion when clouds of gold dust appeared above us and my classmates were all falling over, crying and praying. I was thinking, “Hmm, I’m not sure. Look, it’s only coming from certain areas of the ceiling, maybe where the ducts are.”
Questioning my faith, I decided instead that my life’s calling was to help people by becoming a doctor. The problem was, I had never really engaged with learning; the GCSEs I had would never get me into medical school. But I returned to England, worked incredibly hard for two years, and emerged with four A-levels (one A* and three As) and three fresh GCSEs – all A*s.
For a while, everything seemed to be going my way. I got a place at one of London’s most prestigious medical schools and started dating a girl who was not just gorgeous and clever but a lovely person. I was also physically strong: I’d done an Iron Man when I was 19 and swam the channel in a relay team a year later. I started training for the SAS reserves while studying medicine.
I felt a lot of pressure physically and mentally, but also spiritually. After wrestling with my faith, I had become an atheist. This caused a lot of friction with my parents, and we had huge arguments.
The damaging effect of weed and MDMA
I’d worked so hard to get into medical school that when I first arrived, I just wanted to have a good time. I started smoking a lot of weed. Up to that point, I’d said no to everything. My previous nickname from school had been “Jesus Boy”. Now I told myself: “I’m going to enjoy myself this year, then cut out the weed-smoking, study hard and become the best doctor I can possibly be.”
For me, smoking joints and playing video games started out as a bit of fun with friends. At first, it was manageable. I also tried other drugs, but I was never addicted to them.
However, another contributor to my subsequent mental health crisis was MDMA. I only experimented with it a handful of times, but that was enough.
For some reason, the combination of cannabis and MDMA had a dramatic effect on me. Not long after my first-year exams, I started experiencing something called hypnagogia – seeing and hearing things that weren’t real. Falling asleep became extremely difficult. When I got into bed, waves of energy would build up inside me, almost like a physical pressure. It was terrifying.
Sometimes, I felt like I was losing my mind. On one occasion I was with some friends when I heard the person next to me say something. Her voice was so ethereal, it was like an angel speaking to me, but the words were pure gibberish. I shouted, “What did you just say?” She stared back in confusion and replied, “I didn’t say anything.”
Family problems
That summer, I ended up in a bad way. I’d narrowly failed my exams and had to resit (I passed, despite the hypnagogia). I’d also stopped speaking to my parents. They were upset that I’d lost my faith, and the conflict between us reached its zenith. My mother’s publishing business was going well, and she had supported Hope, my younger sister, by buying her an apartment when she went to university. When I told mum I’d found a flat to rent in London and was planning to move in with my girlfriend,
she sent me an email saying it was “spiritually detrimental” and was stopping my financial support.
The timing couldn’t have been worse. I’d started a job as a science tutor, and was also earning a little money from my SAS reserves training – but it wasn’t nearly enough. With financial help from my girlfriend’s parents and my student loan I managed to move into the flat and start my second year. I hoped that when I passed SAS selection (I was faring well in the physical tests) I could support myself financially through medical school. But my mental health was spiralling out of control.
Every moment I could, I played video games and smoked weed, and I neglected my relationships. Then came the killer blow: my girlfriend left me for a close friend of mine. Looking back, I know now that I treated her poorly and I understand why she had to leave our relationship. I deserved to be left. What happened was my fault. Today, I only wish her the best.
For a long time, all I could think about was killing myself. I was incapable of studying or concentrating on anything. I explained to the medical school that I was depressed, but I didn’t mention the hypnagogia or the weed-smoking. They agreed to let me take two years off. I moved back to my parents’ house – which contributed to my sense of humiliation – and started seeing a psychiatrist, who put me on antidepressants.
Finding solace in cycling
I continued to fantasise about killing myself, and realised I had to get away. Physical exercise had always had a positive effect on me – I’d done some long-distance solo cycling trips when I was 18/19 – so I announced that I was going to cycle from Los Angeles to Brazil.
My parents were horrified, naturally, but my response was: “Look, if I stay here, I’m going to kill myself.” Reluctantly, with the psychiatrist’s endorsement, they agreed to let me go, and to send me money every month.
To begin with, as I was cycling, I couldn’t stop replaying what had happened. I was filled with such bitter resentment towards my parents, my friends and my ex-partner that I fantasised about drifting into the oncoming traffic. Slowly that intense suicidal ideation calmed down, but it was replaced by a deep, coma-like depression.
I only made it as far as Mexico. I spent two years there. The time passed in a haze, mainly because I spent as much time as I could playing video games and smoking weed. It was the only way I found escape from the pain I felt. I didn’t contact anyone
for months.
Eventually I ended up in Mexico City. Again, I barely spoke to anyone back home. I went to a gaming lounge nearly every day. Sometimes I’d stay there for two or three days in a row, sleeping on the floor under the computers. My life consisted of playing
video games, smoking weed, and eating cheap, fried food.
Unsurprisingly, I became very unhealthy. I was pale, thin and horribly constipated from my terrible diet. I later discovered I had also become pre-diabetic. A work contact of my mother’s who lived in Mexico City – a wonderful woman called Diana – found me and intervened. When she offered to take me to a rehabilitation centre, I didn’t resist.
The power of rehab
The 35 days I spent in rehab in Mexico City were a huge turning point in my life. The treatment followed the Alcoholics Anonymous 12-step programme, which gave me the tools to process my trauma and resentment, and to take responsibility for my actions. The lessons I learned there still resonate with me now.
When I came out, I felt an urge to prove to myself that I was getting better, so I decided to climb the Pico de Orizaba, the tallest mountain in Mexico. The conditions were so icy that I was sliding down the side of the mountain, but I loved it. I already had climbing experience. Before medical school, I’d done a few high points: Ben Nevis, Snowdon, Scafell Pike, Mont Blanc. Then I discovered that no one had ever summited the tallest mountain in every country in South America and became determined to complete that challenge.
Mending familial ties
My dad came out to Mexico to spend some time with me, and we went climbing together. My dad is a very loving person, and this was his way of trying to rebuild our bond. Together, we climbed most of the high points in Central America. I particularly loved Costa Rica, so when he flew home, I stayed there and got a minimum wage job as a waiter. I worked hard, learned to surf, and slowly began to feel more like my old self.
Progress was slow, but with structure and discipline, I got better and better – until I felt ready to return to the UK and complete my studies at medical school.
Back in London, I had a meeting with my personal tutor. I was completely honest and open. I told him about my drug use and rehabilitation. He mentioned that I would need to attend another meeting. I arrived to find the director of the medical school, her deputy, and a bunch of other people sitting there. They immediately started grilling me.
The problems all hinged, it transpired, on the fact that I hadn’t told them about my cannabis use when I’d negotiated my two-year break. Many months, meetings and appeals later, the decision was made: I was deemed “unfit to practice medicine” and expelled from medical school.
While my year-long battle with medical school was emotionally bruising, some good came of it. My relationship with my parents improved and the structure of working helped me continue to get better. In many ways, giving up my dream of being a doctor felt strangely liberating.
A new venture
But now I had to decide what to do with my life. I’d loved Costa Rica so much that I wondered about starting a business there. With my parents’ help, I bought a rundown building in a surfing village and transformed it into a thriving hostel. I named it Esperanza (Hope) after my sister – and after the hope I had for the future.
I spent 11 months renovating the property and a further year getting the business established, but the whole time I had another goal at the back of my mind: once it was properly staffed and running smoothly, I would begin my 12 peaks challenge. My self-belief grew. With each ascent, I was growing as a mountaineer, and learning as a person.
In August, 2025, two years and one month after beginning my project, I set off alone to summit the last peak on my list – Julianatop in Suriname. No one had ever climbed it alone, and it involved kayaking, trekking and navigating through dense virgin jungle for 19 days. But even though I was hungry, exhausted, covered in mud and soaked in sweat, I woke each day with a sense of joy.
When I returned after completing the final climb, my dad was waiting for me at the remote airstrip in the jungle, where he’d been camped out in case I needed to be rescued. He cried when he saw me, and told me how proud he was. I’ll cherish that moment for the rest of my life.
My journey has taken me across the vast continent of South America, and I’ve made so many friends and precious memories I’ll treasure forever. I’ll shortly be submitting my evidence to Guinness to verify the record for the 12 mountains I’ve climbed.
I finally gave up smoking weed two and a half years ago, after many failed attempts. Today, when I think back to how I was during my worst depressive years, I can barely recognise myself. For me, fighting for my mental health has been like pushing a boulder: hard at the beginning, but easier once you’ve got the boulder moving. The key thing is, you must keep pushing.
As told to Damon Syson
2025-10-05T10:06:00Z
