The Turning Point of My Life

Let’s talk about the turning point of my whole life. As most of you would know, my start in life wasn’t the best. For the first 13 years of my life, I was an angry young dude who hated everyone and the world. That was a product of my upbringing. But what really helped me see the other side—without sounding too clichéd—was an incredible program called Youth

Insearch (YIS). In this blog, I want to share how having a group of people who believe in you can change your whole life.

Like any good story, let’s start a long, long time ago. I was in high school—or, at least, I was enrolled in school. My attendance was pretty poor, and when I did attend, my grades were even worse. It got to the point where, if I didn’t turn up, the school would call the police. This wasn’t so much to get me into trouble, but to make sure I was okay.

One day, I was skipping class and running from the police throughout the school.

The school health nurse, whom I had never spoken to, stopped me and said that if I came in and talked to her, she would cover for me. Looking back, it was a bit odd that she already knew my name and my story. It was almost as if the school had held a case meeting about me that morning. (They had.)

At first, I thought, *Stuff it. I’ll be covered, and all I need to do is listen to an old lady talk.* She explained that there was a program where kids went away and talked about their problems. At least, that’s what I heard. I left the room thinking I would never speak to that lady again, and I didn’t really care about the program.

That day, or perhaps the next, I received one of the worst beatings from my stepdad that I had ever experienced. I had to stay home from school so no one would see the bruises. The violence wasn’t anything new, but this time it really got to me. When I returned to school, the first person I went to see was the nurse, and I had one goal in mind. I wanted to go away for the weekend, where I wouldn’t need to worry about being bashed and where I would get real food.

Much like now, food could get me to do almost anything. Back then, though, it was probably because I hadn’t eaten much in the previous few days—not because I was a little fatty. The nurse, whose name I found out was Liz, was shocked to see me come back. From what I remember, she was also happy to see me.

She told me the school would pay for me to attend the program, which was two weeks away.

Two weeks later, on the Friday, I was sitting on the bus with my headphones in, my heart racing, and ready to punch on. That was a pretty normal state for me at that point. When we arrived at the campgrounds, everyone started hugging. As far as I was concerned, I had just entered a cult. I was ready to run, and nobody was touching me. Liz was the only person on the bus I knew. She could see that I wasn’t doing well, so she came over, stood beside me, and told everyone not to touch me.

The program started, but nothing really hit me until Sunday. Everything before that was a blur. I remember thinking, *Without a doubt, this is a cult.* I couldn’t understand how all these people could hug, talk about their feelings, and actually be happy to be there. I was there for one thing: food. Thanks to Lions Australia, the food was amazing.

I now know that the sessions cover harder topics as the weekend progresses. On Sunday, the sessions focused on sexual assault and family. We sat down for the sexual assault session, and I remember thinking it would be easy for me because I had never been assaulted—or, at least, I didn’t know that I had. Boy, was I wrong.

I now know that “Little Joe”—my brain—was carrying a secret to protect me. Back then, my brain responded with a dissociative episode. These episodes weren’t uncommon for me, but this one was different.

As I listened to people in the room talk about their experiences and the horrible things they had lived through, my brain switched off and everyone became a threat. I’ve written other blogs about this, and there is a link at the bottom if you would like to read more about my dissociative episodes. For the sake of this blog, though, I “flipped out” and threw a chair through a window. Luckily, nobody was hurt, and the window could be repaired.

This is where the most powerful conversation of my life took place. At home, if I had “flipped out” and even thought about breaking something—no matter the reason—I would have been flogged. But here, they were calm. Trust me, I thought I was going to be flogged and sent home. Instead, three fellas sat me down and wanted to talk: Mark, a youth leader; Peter, another youth leader; and Heath, who was the CEO of Youth Insearch at the time. They didn’t even raise their voices.

I don’t remember the conversation word for word, but they explained that what I had done wasn’t okay because other people had been affected by my behaviour. They told me that if I kept going down this path, I would end up dead or in jail because of my actions—but it wasn’t too late to change direction.

They listened to me. They heard me talk about my life, and they wanted to understand my “episodes”. They went on to explain that the life I was living wasn’t normal. It wasn’t normal to steal food to survive. It wasn’t normal to be beaten every few days. And it wasn’t normal to have episodes in which I couldn’t remember what I had done and, during those episodes, hurt other people. That conversation changed my life forever.

By explaining that my life wasn’t normal, they sparked something in me. That might sound silly, but when you don’t know anything else, you don’t realise that the way you’re living isn’t normal. They helped me understand that I could change my path. Their words were powerful, but so were their actions. In my mind, I had done something wrong and should have been bashed for it. But they didn’t lay a hand on me. In fact, they wanted to give me a hug and tell me it was going to be okay.

What the fuck was happening here?

I was shocked by their kindness—their words and their actions. After that conversation, I was determined to get better.

Fast-forward two years, and I became a youth leader in the program. Another year later, I became a team leader, flying around Australia to speak about the program and rubbing shoulders with some of the most influential people in the country.

More importantly, my last episode happened six months after that first program. My overall quality of life improved because I realised that the life I had been living wasn’t normal—and that I could do better. It might be hard to believe, and I’m not saying the program worked like magic.

I still had to go through hours of therapy and put in a lot of work on myself. Truthfully, I’m still working my arse off every day to become the man I want to be. But that weekend shows the difference one group of people can make simply by believing in someone, showing them that they have value, and helping them see that they can build a better life.

There is obviously much more to this story. I go into greater detail in the book I’m writing, but if anyone wants to talk about my experience or learn more about Youth Insearch, I’m always here for a chat.

To this day, I still speak to everyone mentioned in this story and all the other people from YIS that have had a massive influence on my life. They are my family. If I’m ever feeling down or need someone to talk to, I know my people will be there.

I love you all so much. Thank you for being such a huge part of my story.