Make Your Bed
At 28, Alex Osterman was broke, depressed, living in his childhood bedroom, and avoiding the gap between the life he was living and the life he knew he was capable of. What followed wasn't a dramatic transformation — it was an unmade bed, a conversation with his dad, and one small task that took less than a minute.
In this episode of Who We Become — Life Beyond Change, Amanda Lentz sits down with Alex Osterman — licensed psychotherapist practicing in Florida, New Jersey, and Connecticut, and author of the forthcoming book Quit Evading, It's Time to Be Extraordinary — for a conversation about avoidance, agency, and what it actually takes to rebuild a life from the inside out.
At 28, Alex received a cancer diagnosis at exactly the moment he was already confronting something else: the gap between the life he was living and the life he knew he was capable of. What came next wasn't a dramatic movie-scene transformation. It was something far more useful — a disciplined, slow, imperfect accumulation of small decisions. Making the bed. Taking the walk. Having the hard conversation. Keeping one promise to himself.
The Mortality Check
Alex's cancer diagnosis — testicular cancer — came earlier than 28, and he was fortunate: caught early, treated with surgery alone. But the aftermath was the bigger story. What followed was depression, and what he calls a "mortality check" — the realization, at a young age, that death isn't something that only happens to people as they get older. It can be present for anyone, at any time.
"It led to a poor man's translation of carpe diem — if we could be dead tomorrow, might as well maximize today. It led to a lot of negative things."
— Alex OstermanWeight gain. Drinking too much. Smoking too much pot. Numbing out, getting through each day based on whatever felt good in the moment. Graduate school stalled, then resumed in name only — minimal effort, consistent absences. By 28, it had all accumulated into a rupture in a seven-and-a-half-year relationship, a move back into his childhood bedroom, and watching friends move forward into careers and relationships while he felt completely stuck.
"There was a moment where my mom, feeling bad for me, gave me $200 — and it meant the world, because I didn't have any money. I felt like I was climbing a mountain and had this big, big fall."
— Alex OstermanAvoidance Is Not Procrastination
Alex draws a sharp distinction between the two. Procrastination is a behavior in a moment. Avoidance becomes a response system — the default the mind reaches for, the way some people default to lying even when there's no need to. It becomes a behavioral pattern: why should I? Let me find the escape. I had a hard day, let me do this instead. Over the foundational work required to build resilience.
And underneath it, a cycle: self-criticism leads to a desire to escape, escapism feels like it should motivate change but instead reinforces avoidance, avoidance keeps the original problem unsolved, and the criticism returns. The whipping doesn't move you forward — it keeps you stuck in exactly the same place.
What Avoidance Actually Costs
Alex describes a quiet internal voice — not a critical one, an honest one — that exists in everyone, trying to help them become who they're capable of being. The cost of continued avoidance isn't just the unfinished task. It's the version of yourself that you can logically understand, and feel, you could be. It's alignment with that honest voice. It's being genuinely proud of the life you're living.
"It's scary. But it's only through the obstacles that you see: staying in avoidance was so much more scary than making the change. It's okay to be afraid. But it costs you the best version of yourself."
— Alex OstermanAlex developed a mantra he now uses with clients: when in doubt, charge. The moment of hesitation is the signal to move forward — not to wait it out, which leads to freezing. Over time, the leap of faith becomes something else: I know I'll feel nervous before this, but I'll push forward, because I know how proud and capable I'll feel afterward.
The Unmade Bed
Alex remembers the day clearly — though not the date — and it opens his book. He was sitting on an unmade bed, early afternoon, half-drinking a beer, and said to himself: this isn't where my story ends.
He went to the garage and asked his father what he should do. His father — who had spent years teaching Alex things, including, once, gently pushing back on Alex's "what's the point of making the bed, it's just going to get messy again" attitude — didn't give him another lesson. He simply said: I've already taught you all of this.
"That forced me to reflect and look at what small things I could do. Making the bed was a small step — a little bit of order in a chaotic life that I could take control of in that moment."
— Alex OstermanIt took less than a minute. And every time Alex walked into his bedroom afterward, he saw the effect of the action he'd taken, and felt the relief of that small order. That became the seed of everything that followed.
Put the Bar on the Floor
Alex describes a common exchange with clients starting an exercise routine. He asks how many days a week they think they should work out. Four, they say. He says less. Three. Less. They keep going down until he says one — and they're shocked.
"It's more important to begin than it is to pursue greater or loftier goals. That's where most people fail — most commonly with New Year's resolutions. You try to do everything at once, and in a week and a half, you stop."
— Alex OstermanFor Alex, the progression was: make the bed, then get clothes off the floor, then organize the desk. And the small physical changes enabled bigger ones — once his desk and paperwork were organized, reaching out to schools about his internship was no longer as much of an obstacle. Each small win removed friction from the next step.
Faith in a Process
Not religious faith — faith that what he'd clearly been doing wasn't working, so trying something different, even without certainty, was worth it. Humility was part of it: being willing to say, clearly I didn't know what I was doing, so let me try something else.
The small changes weren't constant or linear. But they showed up — a little weight loss, an internship, progress on the question of whether he'd finish grad school. Each small sign reinforced the idea that something different might be exactly what was needed.
Insight Isn't Enough
Alex was a psych major and in graduate school for counseling before the ruptures in his life — he was good at understanding what was happening to him and why. But understanding didn't produce relief. Action did.
"Insight is great. My philosophy isn't that insight is unnecessary or bad — it's just the first step. You need to understand the problem. But without action, the problem persists."
— Alex OstermanWhat moves someone from insight to action, in Alex's experience, comes back to a single word: courage. He references Joseph Campbell's call to adventure — one small step out of the village, onto the road. It takes courage to look at yourself honestly, acknowledge you're struggling, and know you need to do something even without knowing exactly what.
The List That Grew
Alex's rebuilding started with a to-do list of three items: make your bed, go for a walk, apply for a job. He recommends the same structure to clients — and a specific practice: don't cross items off. Check them off, and date them. Keep the list.
Alex still makes his bed every day — when his daughter allows it.
How Avoidance Shows Up Differently in Men
In his work with men's mental health specifically, Alex sees a few consistent patterns. There's often shame that needs to be worked through first — part of why Alex is open about his own story, to normalize that struggling doesn't mean something is wrong with you.
Men also tend to want to problem-solve. The "here's a task, here's a mission" approach tends to land well — there's still space for emotional processing, but men are often most engaged by the question: okay, what do I do now?
"As they start to see cause and effect, they start to feel agency. They start to feel hope — and hope is kryptonite for depression and anxiety. It's not a matter of if this will work. It's a matter of how long until you get where you want to be."
— Alex OstermanWhat Changed for Him, Personally
Alex describes a level of honesty with himself that wasn't there before — and one of his favorite things about his wife is that she calls him out. Not holding him to her standard, but helping him hold himself to who he wants to be. That acknowledgment, he says, is the first step for everyone, and there's nothing shameful about it. It's something to recognize, even rejoice over: this is what's going on, and if I work on it, I'll feel better.
What He Wants Every Man to Hear
"When men are struggling, they think something's wrong with them. It doesn't mean that. It means certain aspects of life aren't lining up with what you actually need. There's nothing wrong with you. You just have some problems to solve."
— Alex OstermanBreaking an overwhelming feeling down into smaller, solvable problems — one at a time — is what gives people back their sense of agency.
Quit Evading
Alex's forthcoming book is structured in three parts. The first leans into his own story — not because there's anything special about him, but to demonstrate that a human being can walk this path. The second covers the psychology and mechanics behind avoidance and rebuilding. The third is a field manual: step-by-step practices to begin changing a life.
His website also offers a free "anti-evasion starter kit" — a seven-week program that starts small, the same way making the bed did.
Looking Back From 36
Alex is now a father, husband, business owner, licensed psychotherapist, and author. Looking back at 28, he doesn't separate the rock bottom from where he is now — he needed to be there to become who he is. Not as a silver lining, but as a fact: there was no other way to get here.
Why This Conversation Matters
Alex Osterman used a cancer diagnosis as the thing that finally made him look at the life he was avoiding — and spent the years since building something extraordinary, one small decision at a time. Transformation doesn't usually arrive as a single dramatic moment. It arrives as a practice, a discipline, the accumulated weight of showing up imperfectly, day after day, until the life you're living starts to look like the one you always knew you were capable of.
Where you are right now does not have to be the end of your story. Pain, failure, avoidance, rock bottom — these can be a turning point. But only if you're willing to start moving, even imperfectly, even today.
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