Ep 175. A Rapid Road to Rock Bottom and Finding a Life Worth Living, with Rosie Eldershaw

My guest this week is Jason Dobbie, a chef of 26 years who got sober while still running professional kitchens. Sobriety, though, did not answer the question underneath it all: who am I? Eight years on, Jason leads a community of more than 750 people working through that same question, and he joins Ash to unpack what it actually took to rebuild a sense of self from the ground up.

In this solo episode, Ash reflects on a recent trip to the Gold Coast, where she spent five nights at a wellness retreat, not as a facilitator but as a guest. Away from Wi-Fi and her usual pace of life, she unpacks five lessons that surfaced in the stillness. From remembering to trust the wisdom of her body, to rereading an old favourite book and discovering how much she herself had changed, there were plenty of downloads she wanted to share.

This week Ash sits down with Dave McGrath, a 47 year old carpenter and father who recently celebrated three years of sobriety. For a period of about nine months before rehab, Dave was living out of his car, seeing his daughter once every month or two, and losing himself completely to what he calls the alcoholic insanity. His rock bottom came in a friend's garage, staring at an extension ladder and a rope, before something in him snapped awake enough to call a rehab.

My guest this week is Megan Ashton, founder of Unity Breathwork and a leading voice for raising safety standards in the breathwork industry. Megan spent most of her adult life escaping herself, first through alcohol and bulimia as a teenager, then later through constant travel that let her outrun her feelings entirely. It took a devastating breakup, and a breathwork session in Bali, for her to finally crack open decades of unprocessed grief, so that she could start the long journey of finding a way back to herself.

My guest this week is Tully Johns, a Melbourne based health coach who spent close to fifteen years working as a zookeeper before turning to helping people. For most of three decades, Tully carried the effects of childhood sexual abuse without a name for it, showing up instead as depression, anxiety, and eventually a PTSD diagnosis. It was only in his forties, after his brother came forward with his own memories and pursued a case against their father, that Tully began to understand what he himself had survived.