Over the last couple of days, I've spent a lot of time reflecting on some of the threads from my childhood and how they've shaped the father, husband and man I am today.
When I look back, I genuinely think I was a good kid. I loved adventure. BMX bikes, skateboards, rugby, riding motorbikes, building things, getting dirty, disappearing with my mates until the sun went down. I was curious, energetic and always looking for the next bit of excitement. But underneath all of that was a young boy who carried a lot of anger. I reacted quickly. I remember kicking a hole in a classroom wall after getting into trouble. I remember stealing Mum's wedding ring and trying to sell it at school, having absolutely no understanding of what it meant or why it mattered. Looking back now, those moments weren't because I was a bad kid. They were moments of pure immaturity, confusion and emotional reactivity that I simply didn't have the tools to navigate. However the decisions I made then led me on a path.
I changed schools more than once when I was young, and then at thirteen, just as I'd found a solid group of mates and started to feel settled, Mum and Dad came home from a trip to Oz for an aunties 40th and told us we were moving to Australia... Within a month they sold everything, packed a shipping container and started again in a completely different country.
When I really sit with that now, I can see how much adapting I did as a young bloke. Every time life changed, I learnt how to fit in. I became the chameleon. I learnt how to read people, connect quickly, make friends and find my place wherever I landed. For a long time I probably saw that as survival mechanism, for sure. Today I see it as one of my greatest gifts. It allows me to connect deeply with people from all walks of life, and it's become one of the foundations of the work I do with men and in my community and in business.
My dad worked incredibly hard. He was always building something, fixing something or working in the motorcycle shop. Some of my greatest memories are wrapped up in that freedom. Riding bikes around town, hanging around the workshop and exploring the world. I also remember crashing one of his little motorbikes and getting an almighty spray. At the time it felt terrifying. Now, as a father, I understand that he was doing the best he could with what he knew. I can also see parts of him in me now. There are qualities I carry forward with gratitude, and others I've consciously chosen to soften.
One of the biggest lessons I've learnt is that our wounds don't have to become our identity. They can become our teachers. Wisdom.
The uncertainty I experienced taught me resilience. Starting again, often ; taught me confidence. Learning to fit into different groups taught me connection. Even my anger has become something I now recognise early, take responsibility for and work with, instead of letting it control me. Those things that once felt like burdens have become some of my greatest strengths.
As a father, I'm trying to build something different. Not because my parents got it wrong, but because every generation gets an opportunity to evolve.
Our family sits around the dinner table most nights. We talk. We listen. We ask questions. I want my kids to know they can bring me anything without fear of judgement. Not because I'll solve every problem, but because they'll never have to carry it alone.
We're also very honest about struggle. We've experienced financial pressure, and we don't pretend everything is perfect. I believe struggle is part of life. (Although I would like to take a pause for a while please god😂) It's where resilience, wisdom and character are built. Suffering, though, is definitely optional. We don't run from hard conversations or difficult seasons. We move through them together. Whether it's training a martial art as a family, facing setbacks or navigating uncertainty, I want my kids to know that difficult things aren't something to fear. They're something that can shape you if you let them.
I also want to leave them with practical wisdom. Financial literacy. The confidence to choose work that aligns with who they are, not just what pays the bills. I don't remember having those conversations growing up, and I want to change that for my children.
The legacy I hope to leave isn't measured by money alone, although I do hope to leave them with security, some land and a place they can always call home. It's much deeper than that.
I want my children, and one day my grandchildren, to know there will always be a place of refuge and retreat. A place where they're welcomed without conditions. A place grounded in love, honesty, laughter, spirituality and deep connection. I want them to know they never have to earn their place in this family—they already belong.
If I can leave them with that sense of belonging, and the confidence to meet life with courage, openness and compassion, then I think I'll have lived the kind of fatherhood I'm striving for.
Big love brothers.