Nic Robertson

Built a world. Lost it all. Finding out what’s underneath.

The illness was already there before any of it. Twenty years of chronic fatigue, autoimmune patterns, a body that never quite worked the way it should.

But I was a sworn perfectionist with everything to prove and everything to hide – fearfully introverted, desperately self-conscious, performing confidence I didn’t feel.

So I buried it all, scaled an agency group to $10M across eight countries, hired hundreds of people, dominated boardrooms with lines they lapped up – and pretended nothing was falling apart underneath.

It was. The business wound down. Bankruptcy followed. The body got its turn to speak. And without anything left to perform, the question finally landed.

For a while, the answer was whoever the drinking and the drugs would let me be. Then came the real work. Peruvian shamans and ayahuasca. Acupuncture, ice baths, hypnosis, energy healing, somatic work. The ocean became my greatest teacher.

And somewhere in all of it, a discovery that reframed everything I’d spent a lifetime fighting – not broken at all. Just built different.

Music came back around the same time – a session guitarist and producer in a former life, now picking up flute and didgeridoo. But the deeper return was finding my voice. Not the one I used to fill rooms with. The one underneath – the one that actually knows what it believes.

Fifteen years of strategy, creative production, and deep personal work, now channelled into something that helps people. Not from a place of having it figured out. From having been through enough to know what matters.