In this compelling interview, the founder of Paracelsus Recovery — a luxury mental health treatment center — shares his personal and professional journey from the high-stakes world of finance to the deeply human domain of psychological healing. Drawing on his entrepreneurial roots and inspired by a family legacy in mental healthcare, he offers a rare look into the emotional struggles faced by ultra-high-net-worth individuals. The conversation delves into phenomena like “Succession Syndrome” and “Opulomania,” shedding light on how wealth, status, and legacy can quietly give rise to anxiety, addiction, and emotional isolation. By exploring how trauma, performance pressure, and societal expectations shape behavior, the founder outlines a clinically integrative, trauma-informed approach to healing. The result is not just a reframing of luxury — but a call to rediscover meaning, self-worth, and connection beyond material success.
1. With your background in finance and experience as a serial entrepreneur, how did you transition into the mental health field, and what inspired you to found Paracelsus Recovery?
In all honesty, my initial motivation for entering entrepreneurship was financial. While working in investment banking, I realised that true financial independence could only come through building and owning companies — even the most generous bonuses had limits. But over time, I discovered that material success didn’t address the deeper issues I was grappling with: not feeling at home in myself, anxiety, and a need to prove my worth through achievement. That shift in self-awareness changed the direction of my career completely. Today, while I still love building companies, I focus on creativity, purpose, and contributing something meaningful – all of which quite naturally lead me to mental health work.
In addition, my transition into mental health was inspired by my mother, Christine Merzeder, a psychiatric nurse who pioneered the “one client at a time” model when she helped a close friend struggling with alcoholism. Alongside her then-husband, Lowell Monkhouse, they converted their home into a mini-treatment centre. Seeing how transformative this model was, and drawing on my finance background and understanding of ultra-high-net-worth clients, I co-founded the Kusnacht Practice in 2011, which quickly grew via word of mouth. In 2013, I left to establish Paracelsus Recovery, guided by a vision of something more boutique, personal, and clinically integrative. Our goal was, and still is, to offer the world’s most discreet, effective, and individually tailored treatment for those facing complex emotional and psychological challenges.
2. Paracelsus Recovery also addresses “Succession Syndrome.” How does the pressure of inheriting wealth and managing family businesses contribute to mental health issues, and how does it intersect with “Opulomania”?
In our experience working with ultra-wealthy families, Succession Syndrome is a major driver of mental health issues, often co-occurring with Opulomania (functioning as a coping mechanism for those issues). The pressures these individuals face – inheriting vast wealth or managing a family empire – are frequently misunderstood as entitlement, when they are rooted in emotional deprivation. The wealth-creating parent is often absent due to work demands, and the child internalises this absence as rejection. Over time, that wound manifests as insecurity, perfectionism, and a deep need to prove oneself, especially when taking over the very business that once took their parent away.
As research shows, such emotional neglect can result in insecure attachment, narcissistic defences, and compulsive behaviours. Succession Syndrome occurs when the longing for love becomes entangled with the drive to succeed, creating countless mental health issues in its wake. Opulomania then arises when material success is used to symbolically fill that void and numb the individual from the stress caused by those issues, i.e luxury becomes a proxy for worth, and achievement a stand-in for affection.
For instance, many individuals struggling with succession syndrome develop the unconscious belief: ‘If I appear more successful than my parents, they’ll finally love me and I’ll finally feel whole. Of course, the issue rarely lies with the parents’ love, but with the internalisation of absence and insecurity. This cycle of overachievement and emptiness can lead to emotional breakdowns, self-medication, and poor decision-making. At Paracelsus Recovery, we treat these dynamics as interwoven and rooted in early attachment, family systems, and the psychological burdens of extreme wealth.
3. Paracelsus Recovery emphasises a “holistic approach” with “neuroscience-based therapies and introspective practices.” Can you give specific examples of these therapies and practices, and how they help clients rewire their brains toward conscious consumption and emotional awareness?
Firstly, at Paracelsus Recovery, we understand that behaviours like opulomania, luxury shopping, or substance use aren’t the root issue – they’re survival strategies. When someone compulsively consumes, we don’t ask what’s wrong with them — we ask what pain are they trying to avoid? Because of this, we work on a case-by-case basis, respecting the absolute singularity of each subject. We also believe that if you try to take away a coping strategy without first addressing the wound it protects, it’s like asking a man with a broken leg to walk without crutches – unhelpful at best, and cruel at worst.
So, with that in mind, imagine a client who has inherited her family business and now suffers daily panic attacks. On the outside, she appears confident, but internally, she’s terrified and is turning to alcohol and luxury goods as an attempt to manage that unshakeable fear. Thus, her shopping and drinking have nothing to do with weakness or vanity. Instead, it’s a way to manage the immense fear she feels that if she fails, she’ll lose her father’s love – keep in mind, too, that for a child, loss of a parent’s love means the child is unprotected and can feel akin to death. Hence, a childhood wound is playing out in her panic attacks (often functioning as a fear that one is dying). The shopping becomes a way of armouring herself against that fear, i.e. if she looks the part, she’ll be safe. The alcohol, a numbing agent, enables her to believe in the safety-effect of those luxury items. So, our team might discover that these behaviours protect her, and we would ask, what does she need protection from?
So, we begin by locating the source of distress. Therapies like Internal Family Systems (IFS) help identify the emotional “parts” driving the behaviour. EMDR might be used to process early experiences of rejection, pressure, or trauma. Somatic experiencing and TRE (Tension and Trauma Releasing Exercises) might help her discharge what the body has stored. At the same time, neurofeedback could help retrain the brain’s stress-response circuits to foster calm and self-regulation.
At the same time, we assess how chronic stress has impacted the body. During our comprehensive intake, we examine everything from hormone levels and inflammation markers to digestive health and sleep cycles. For example, say the stress of daily panic attacks has affected her fertility or triggered an autoimmune condition, our functional medicine team would then create an integrated treatment plan — from IV infusions and mitochondrial support to hormonal balancing and gut repair — enabling her body to heal alongside the mind.
We address the coping behaviours only after these foundational pieces are in place. Using CBT and DBT techniques, our psychotherapists help clients build new responses to old triggers. We might explore what practices once made them feel safe—music, nature, drawing—and gently reintroduce them. But most crucially, the work lies in addressing the underlying traumas. Once those have been healed, the power of a coping mechanism like Opulamania falls away, as we no longer need it to feel safe.
4. The article states, “The goal isn’t to reject beauty or craftsmanship… It’s about having control over how and why we consume.” How do you help clients redefine their relationship with luxury, allowing for appreciation without compulsion?
Akin to the answer above, once you’ve processed the emotional wounds that the luxury items were covering over for the client, they can typically reposition themselves towards luxury goods. The compulsion often falls away naturally because it no longer serves a function. So, we help clients redefine their relationship through the therapeutic work itself.
5. How do you address the social acceptability of “Opulomania” and the cultural narrative that links more luxury with more happiness? What steps can society take to challenge these ingrained beliefs?
I think, above all else, it starts with leaning into discomfort and vulnerability and embracing those traits that make us seem ‘flawed’. We’ve become so warped as a society that we often mistake other people’s envy for authentic connection. For instance, at Paracelsus Recovery, we view opulomania not as vanity but as a socially reinforced coping mechanism. It’s the compulsive drive to acquire luxury to manage feelings of inadequacy, disconnection, or unworthiness. In many cultures, luxury is marketed as happiness — a visible sign that one belongs, is admired, and is ‘doing well’. This narrative is so pervasive that the behaviour often goes unnoticed or is celebrated. Social media accelerates this cycle. Every scroll presents curated images of success, beauty, and wealth, teaching us that worth is external and performative. For many, especially those from less privileged backgrounds or under intense family pressure, luxury becomes a kind of armour. We once treated a client who had married into wealth and used designer goods to hide the belief that she didn’t truly belong.
To challenge this narrative, we must first stop moralising the symptom. If someone seems to ‘have it all,’ rather than feel insecure or bitter, ask what emotional wounds this lifestyle is trying to cover over for them. Then, as a society, we need broader conversations about emotional health, vulnerability, and the deeper costs of performative living. For example, media could showcase alternative models of success rooted not in appearance but in purpose, community, and creativity. Ultimately, opulomania is not about excess — it’s about lack. And healing that emptiness won’t come from more stuff, but from reconnection to ourselves and others.
6. What role do you see technology and social media playing in the future evolution of “Opulomania” and other behavioural addictions? Are there proactive measures that can be taken to mitigate their negative impact?
Firstly, social media plays an undeniably unhealthy role in the evolution of Opulomania as well as countless other behavioural addictions – from phone dependencies to exercise issues. We’ve also seen it fuel anxiety and mood disorders. In the case of opulomania, social media essentially shapes people’s beliefs about what is desirable, acceptable, or necessary to feel valued (and thus accepted). It amplifies idealised lifestyles and presents a constant stream of curated images that suggest success is synonymous with visible wealth. This drives us to consume not out of enjoyment, but from a need to be perceived in a certain way, which plays on our fundamental need to feel ‘part’ of a tribe/community. Because it plays on those basic instincts, social media essentially encourages constant comparison and performance. Whether it’s a new watch, a renovation, or a holiday, sharing these moments online creates a continuous pressure to keep up, which fuels a cycle of consumption driven by validation and visibility.
This effect is intensified in affluent societies like the Middle East, where luxury goods and services are readily available and widely admired. Social media platforms reward displays of wealth and status, reinforcing that success and self-worth are measured by what one can show. Over time, this contributes to the development of obsessive consumption behaviours, particularly in individuals who already struggle with self-esteem or identity issues.
In terms of proactive measures, absolutely. Most of all, we need to relearn how to sit with ourselves, not just to scroll past the discomfort, but to listen to what it’s trying to say. For instance, try to use social media intentionally and mindfully, noticing when any hits of envy, insecurity or anxiety kick in. When you spot them, explore what that feeling is and how it might impact your actions. But above all else, try to slow down and be as radically honest and compassionate as you can be with yourself. When we move slowly — eat, walk, speak, or listen without rushing — the body feels safe. From there, you can start to notice what you’re craving, what you’re avoiding, and what you need – and that knowledge will stop you from blindly acting on those complicated feelings with Oploumania. In many ways, our modern world is addicted to speed, intensity and performance, making slowness and honesty a radical act. Paying attention to who we are enables us to feel more and thus need less stimulation, distraction, and escape.
7. Paracelsus Recovery specialises in treating high-net-worth and celebrity clients. How does the unique context of extreme wealth and public scrutiny influence the manifestation and treatment of “Opulomania” and other mental health conditions?
We often see how extreme visibility and success can intensify underlying struggles around identity, self-worth, and emotional safety. Issues like Opulomania or substance addiction function as ways of managing anxiety, loneliness, or the sheer terror of living in the public eye. Imagine if every time you step outside your house, you’re met with swarms of people — some adoring, some hostile. There’s no such thing as popping to the shop for milk when you’re a celebrity. That can create a profound and disorienting anxiety.
We’ve treated numerous clients for symptoms of PTSD as a direct result of sudden fame. Opulomania becomes a way of protecting — or even hiding — from the attention. Luxury becomes a symbol of control and acceptance.
Fame also makes it difficult to ask for help. Many clients tell us they feel they’re expected to be grateful all the time and that struggling with mental health feels like they’ve failed to enjoy their success – that they’re somehow ‘selfish.’ In many ways, we gaslight celebrities to live this complicated life and punish them for not enjoying it. In addition, there’s also that pressure to appear “put together,” which means behaviours like substance use or compulsive shopping can go unchecked for years, quietly serving as emotional scaffolding.
In treatment, we work carefully to address both the personal and public dimensions of their experience. That might involve helping clients separate their private self from their public image, or working through fears around being vulnerable when the world is watching. We also create an environment of trust and discretion, where they can speak freely and reconnect with a more grounded sense of self. Therapeutically, we might use EMDR to process trauma, IFS to explore internal conflicts, or somatic work and neurofeedback to help calm a dysregulated nervous system. Often, our job is about helping someone discover who they are outside the spotlight — outside the applause, the expectations, or the roles they’ve been playing for years.
8. What are some of the most common “internal voids” clients try to fill through excessive luxury pursuits, and how do these underlying issues manifest in their behaviours?
The most common ‘voids’ are usually shaped by early experiences of neglect, abandonment, or a sense of not being enough. Many clients grew up in environments where love was conditional: tied to performance, appearance, or success. As a result, they learned to soothe that inner emptiness with external validation, and luxury becomes a stand-in for connection, worth, or safety.
These voids can manifest in all kinds of ways – from shopping to anxiety disorders, depressive disorders, eating disorders, addictions, gambling dependencies, the list is truly endless. Essentially, if you feel low, insecure or like you are not enough and reach for something unhealthy, then that is an attempt to fill the void.
There’s usually a quiet but persistent belief that if we just get that next thing – that next drink, cigarette, promotion, go to that party, have a baby, etc, then we will feel whole. However, that wholeness never arrives because we all have a void, and in many ways, each of our life’s work involves learning how to sit with the discomfort of our own void. Clinically, we do this by helping clients build a relationship with themselves that isn’t dependent on what they own or how they appear. Because only when we feel connected internally can we stop chasing it externally.
