If someone asks me what single book has most changed my life, my answer is immediate: Bob Proctor’s Change Your Paradigm, Change Your Life.

I remember the first time I pressed play on the Audible version. It’s June of 2024. My world feels upside down. My ex and I have just broken up. My one-year-old daughter is asleep in the next room, and I’m already dreading the morning alarm at 4 a.m.

Every day is the same grind. I wake up in the dark, get my daughter dressed and buckled into the car, and drive through empty streets to drop her at daycare by 5 a.m. By 6, I’m back home, teaching French online to college students on Zoom. At 9 a.m., I close my laptop, grab my bag, and rush to a charter school where five different Latin classes wait for me.

By the time I pick my daughter up at 5 p.m., I am already spent. But the evening isn’t done — dinner, grading, lesson prep, bath time, bedtime. Finally, I collapse onto the couch again, staring at the ceiling, wondering how much longer I can keep going.

My dissertation — the one thing that was supposed to be my contribution to the world — gathers dust. My health is breaking down. In six months, I lose my voice seven times. My bank account teeters between barely scraping by and overdraft. I feel like I am failing as a mother, a teacher, and a scholar.

That’s where I am when my mom says, “You need to listen to Bob Proctor.”

The Turning Point

At first, I shrug it off. I’ve been listening to positivity podcasts, after all. I know mindset matters, but I secretly think it's for other people. People with more time. People with more money. People who don't have the same demands that I have. 

But I’m desperate. So I download the Audible version and press play while I drive.

And then I hear Bob say it:

“We have to start by understanding that there's only one part of the universe that we can change, and that is ourselves. We can change nothing else. We can't change the conditions or circumstances around us. We have to adapt to what's going on and keep going, but we also have to understand that we're bigger than the external situations that we're facing" (Proctor 8).

I grip the steering wheel tighter. It feels like he’s speaking straight into my chaos.

For the first time, I stop fighting the circumstances around me — the exhaustion, the financial strain, the toddler tantrums, the constant sickness. I realize I can’t control any of that. But I can control me.

I can change how I think. I can change how I respond. I can choose what to focus on and what to let go.

That realization is like a crack in the wall I’ve been pushing against — a thin stream of light breaking through. And in that moment, I know: if I want a different life, I have to start by changing myself.

The Breaking Point

But knowing you need to change and actually changing are two very different things.

Most mornings, I still found myself rushing, struggling, late. My daughter resists clothes, breakfast, the car seat. I tell myself, Be more disciplined. Other moms do this every day. Finally, I get her in the car. Relief floods me — we’re going to make it today.

And then it happens. The gag. The sound I dread. She pukes all over herself, the seat, the car.

I pull over, shaking, tears streaming down my face. Not today. Please not today. But it’s today, just like it was last week and the week before.

I drive home with the windows down, the sour smell filling the car. My hands tremble as I text the head of school: I can’t make it in. Inside, I strip off clothes, clean the mess, and collapse onto the couch. My daughter is suddenly fine, giggling and bouncing around while I’m left drained, scrambling to type up sub plans before my paycheck gets docked again.

Everything I do feels wrong. No matter how hard I try, it feels like I’m failing everyone — my students, my daughter, myself.

Then winter break comes, and I think maybe I’ll catch my breath. But I don’t. I’m sick. She’s sick. We start the new term, and I miss the first two days back. I feel like I’m letting everyone down, all over again.

That’s when Bob’s words echo in my head:

“Respect yourself enough to walk away from anything that no longer serves you, grows you, or makes you happy.”

I know it’s true. This job isn’t serving anyone. Not my students, who deserve consistency. Not the school, constantly scrambling to cover for me. Not my daughter, who needs a present and healthy mom. Not me.

So I write my resignation. My finger hovers over the button. When I finally press send, there’s no flood of relief — only fear. Dread. My brain screams, You’re throwing away what little stability you have. I have no new job lined up. 

But beneath the fear, my heart whispers: You’re making the right choice.

So I trust. I trust the universe. I trust myself. And in the weeks that follow, I give the very best I can, knowing this chapter is ending — and a new one is waiting to begin.

The Pivot

At first, I throw myself into what I love. I bake bread for customers, connect with people through food, share smiles and warm loaves. I go to CrossFit three times a week, feeling strength return to my body.

And then Epstein Barr Virus hits.

Everything collapses again. I can’t bake. I can’t work out. Some days I can barely stay conscious. I struggle to care for my toddler while fighting waves of exhaustion.

The only bright spot? My daughter’s health blossoms once I left the school environment. She hardly gets sick anymore. That alone tells me I made the right call.

But I still need income.

That’s when my mom asks, “Why not try AI tasking again?”

I had dabbled before — low pay, sporadic work — but now I have nothing to lose.

I log in. And a door opens.

This time, I get placed on a project that pays per task, not per time. It’s demanding, high-level, PhD-style prompt engineering. Due to confidentiality, I can’t share details, but what I can say is this: Bob’s words ring in my head —

“It doesn’t matter where you are or where you’ve been. What matters is where you’re going.”

I hold a clear picture in my mind of financial freedom. And then I work. Hard.

One week, I refresh my dashboard and blink. Over $10,000 in seven days. I whisper to myself, This is it. This is the paradigm shift Bob was talking about.

The Cost of Success

But even breakthroughs come with shadows.

I grind. I stay up late, sometimes all night, chasing tasks. Weekends blur into weekdays. I’m less present with my daughter. My body breaks down again, sick more often than not. And just like that, the project ends with no warning. One day there are endless tasks. The next, nothing.

Still, the lesson is clear: my income isn’t limited by time or circumstance. I can create opportunity. I can create money.

Bob’s voice echoes again:

“If you can see it in your mind, you can hold it in your hand.”

And I did.

The Picture I’m Painting Now

Today, I’m rebuilding once more. I’m back to baking. I’m refocusing on my dissertation. I’m prioritizing health, workouts, and language learning. I’m creating routines with my daughter and carving out meaningful moments with the people I love.

I don’t want to live in monochrome anymore. I want a picture full of color — joy, strength, curiosity, love.

And Bob reminds me daily:

“Personal development has no finish line. You don’t have to be sick to get better.”

What You Can Do (Starting Today)

Here’s what my journey has taught me — and what you can start doing right now:

1. Make one decision. Mine was pressing play on Audible. Yours might be writing your goal, sending the resignation email, or cutting one toxic habit.

2. Do it at once. “Doing at once what needs to be done will increase the possibility of success.” Don’t wait for perfect conditions. They’ll never come.

3. Focus on one area first. I chose finances, because it was urgent. What’s your domino — the one thing that, if changed, would shift everything else?

4. Repetition is key. I’ve listened to Bob’s book more than 20 times. Don’t just read once. Revisit until the lessons seep from your head into your heart.

Final Thoughts

A year ago, I was sleeping on a couch, sick, broke, and running on fumes. Today, I’m rebuilding. I’m baking more. I’m refocusing on my dissertation. I’m learning to prioritize not just money, but balance — my health, my relationships, my joy.

I want my life to be more than survival. I want it to be meaningful moments with my daughter. Conversations that light me up. Workouts where I feel strong. Customers who leave smiling. Late nights spent writing words that matter.

I want to paint a picture full of color, not just monochrome.

And that’s what Bob Proctor gave me: not just the courage to quit, not just the $10k week, but the belief that I can pick up the brush and keep painting, no matter how many times the canvas changes.

If you’re ready to start where I did, you can find Change Your Paradigm, Change Your Life on Audible here or grab the paperback here.

Sometimes one book doesn’t just inspire you. It hands you the tools to begin again. Let me know if there's a book that's inspired you and how it helped you in difficult times.