My name is Paul. Fishing may not be for everyone, but for me it’s a form of therapy something that has carried me through some of the darkest periods of my life.
Growing up in the Shetland Islands, I was always near water. You can’t avoid it up there. Sea all around, and more fresh water lochs than you can count. My dad loves his trout fishing, so from a young age I’d tag along with him on trips to the troots. Those early days are some of my fondest memories.
It wasn’t until I moved to Edinburgh in 2006 that I realised how much fishing meant to me. Life got busy. New job. New city. Then in 2010 I met my now wife and before long she became what she jokingly calls a “fishing widow” once the season starts.
I still remember my first outing after years away from the sport. Just outside Edinburgh, fly rod in hand, box full of flies, and that familiar excitement buzzing through me. About half an hour in, the line tightened. When I got the fish to the net, I actually said out loud, “What the hell is this thing?”
I’d only ever caught wild brown trout growing up, so seeing a rainbow trout lying there felt like meeting a foreign visitor. But that was it the addiction had returned.
When Life Imploded
With this blog, I want to raise awareness of how deeply fishing has helped me. Because in February 2017, my life collapsed. My wife and I lost our child, and everything changed. Grief isn’t just sadness it’s a complete unravelling of the world you thought you lived in.
Fishing became more than a hobby. It became a lifeline. A quiet, steady way to process what had happened and somehow keep moving forward.
Why Fishing Helps Me Heal
It’s amazing how much you think about when you’re standing on a bank or sitting in a boat. It’s like you leave everything at the car all the responsibilities, all the noise, all the weight.
Once you’re on the water, your only real objective is fishing. And with that comes peace. And hopefully, a bit of quiet.
You’re left with your thoughts and the sound of nature. That’s where the healing starts.
Most trips begin with me giving myself a mental breakdown of the last week what’s been bothering me, what I’ve been avoiding, what I can actually handle today. Fishing gives me the space to do that without pressure. I work through things at my own pace, letting the surroundings soften the edges.
Cast. Think. Breathe. Repeat.
It’s therapy without the walls, without the clock, without the talking. Just me, the water, and whatever’s swimming beneath it.