There was a stretch of three months where I didn’t see daylight. Just deadlines. Back-to-back timelines. Every edit felt like a compromise between client notes and my own exhaustion. And I’ll be real: I started to hate what I was making.

I hit a wall during one job. Had to walk away from my laptop mid-cut and sit in the stairwell. I wasn’t blocked. I was just done. It forced me to rethink my process. I stripped it all back—no more colour until the story locked. No more ten-option music searches. No more trying to impress imaginary peers.

I started printing stills again. Playing tracks with no purpose. Letting a cut breathe for 24 hours before sending. And slowly, the work started to feel like mine again. If you're in a hole, step out. Even if it’s just to take a breath. That breath might save the whole thing.