I Was Scared Shitless
Why I Started a Men’s Group
I grew up surrounded by good people. But maybe we were too close, or we had been through too much together; I couldn’t bring myself to look to them for the answers I needed. At twenty-three, I was more confused than I’d ever been.
I was destined to be a pro athlete. That was my only path to success. When that path ended, I was staring into a void. I hadn’t planned for life to work out any other way.
I was scared shitless.
What do I do now? How do I become successful? What will make people like me?
It was daunting, and I wasn’t ready to face it, so I didn’t. I avoided it at all costs. I numbed myself and lied to myself, hoping something would simply fall into my lap. Nothing did. Eventually, I hit the crossroads: keep avoiding reality, or amount to nothing.
Both options terrified me, but only one could save my life.
I didn’t know who to turn to. I was too proud to ask my family and too embarrassed to tell my friends I was drowning. I told myself a twenty-three-year-old should have his life sorted. Since I didn’t, I felt like a total failure.
I decided I needed to find men who were successful in life, not just in sport. I needed strangers. Men who were wealthy, strong-minded, and adventurous, with families they actually cared about. I wanted to learn what went through their minds: the doubts, the mistakes, the sacrifices. I needed to know if I was the only person running away from his own thoughts, or if there were others like me.
By late 2017, I was in Europe. I had been documenting my journey of “sorting my shit out” on social media for a few years. I started getting flooded with questions from men and women: “How did you overcome doubt?” “How do I help my husband with his anger?”
I was no expert, but I knew the one thing that had actually helped: talking about it.
That realisation lit a fire. I posted a video on Instagram: “When I get back to Australia, I am going to run a men’s circle in Brisbane. Open to all blokes who are keen to become better.”
I had thrown myself into the deep end. I had no idea if anyone would show up or how I would even lead them. I just wanted to give other men the same experience I’d found attending personal development events.
My plan was simple: put some chairs in a circle, share my story, and hope others followed suit. Eight men showed up that first night. At the last minute, I decided to throw my prepared story in the bin and just lead with three rules:
What happens here, stays here.
No advice. Only lived experience and perspective.
Seek to understand, not to be understood.
It was as simple as it needed to be. I didn’t need to be the authority; every man walking through that door was an expert in something I wasn’t. I was just the facilitator. By creating the space correctly, we could all learn, and we could all walk away empowered.
That circle ran for two years. We grew to thirty men every month… doctors, lawyers, carpenters, students, and trainers. Different paths, same connection.
Most men told me they felt “lighter” when they left. I was grateful to have created that space for them and for myself, but over time, I realised we were hitting a ceiling. Men were coming back month after month with the same recurring problems. I began to wonder why they weren’t making actual changes.
Talking was the vital first step, but it wasn’t the last. They needed a second step, and so did I.
That realisation is what led me into coaching. The circle was the catalyst, but coaching was the work. We had spent enough time identifying the weight, it was finally time to start lifting it
.