Being a naughty little boy
got me to where I am today.
Growing up in Brisbane, I was an adventurous child.
Maybe too adventurous. I didn’t have a lot of friends, so I spent a lot of time alone with my imagination, which was very vivid.
I would run away from my mother in shopping centres, chasing fun and adventure, and while she would be in a panic trying to find me, I never had any worries.
I just naturally had a lot of confidence.
But it wouldn’t stay that way.
Even though I was in and out of hospitals constantly since birth, I didn’t feel different to other kids – not until society made me feel different. Adults would stare at me, or whisper about me to other people. And even though I had hearing difficulties, I could still hear the things they said. Being a defiant child, I would stare straight back at them. I knew there was more to me than what most people chose to see, and I was determined to show them that.
In the primary school playground is where my confidence, my defiance, disappeared.
My only ‘friend’ was a schoolmate who didn’t treat me like a friend at all. They put me down constantly; called me names; made me feel useless and worthless, like there was something wrong with me. I would cry myself to sleep most nights, and the next day return to their company at school. Because having their company, as painful as it was, was better than having no company at all.
Over time I stopped being the naughty, mischievous, adventurous risk-taker, and instead became someone who tried to make myself as small as possible.
So when I started getting really bad migraines, I didn’t say anything. What I didn’t know was that the internal tube I have that pumps fluid from my head to my stomach, the tube that keeps me alive, had become blocked. The pain became the worst I’d ever experienced, but I still kept it to myself. Eventually, my mother knew something was very wrong and she and my father rushed me to hospital where I underwent emergency surgery. Without their intervention, I would have died.
People ask me what my life goals or career aspirations were when I was young. The answer is I didn’t have any because I simply didn’t think there was any point. I didn’t think I’d ever have a future, let alone future goals and dreams.
I didn’t see myself living into adulthood. I spent a lot of time believing that it would be better if I wasn’t alive anymore. That eventually everything would end; that it would be better if I ended it. But whenever I dwelled too long and hard on that, my thoughts would eventually land on my family, my mum and dad, and how that would impact their lives.
Despite all the hardships in my childhood, my parents were my constant, saving grace. I was blessed with a Mum and Dad who not only were able to accommodate my needs, but who also gave me so much love and encouragement. They never saw me as different. They only ever saw, with joy, their naughty, mischievous, adventurous son.
It took many years for me to fight through the feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness, force my way back out of my shell, and believe that I was worthy of love and friendship, but I eventually did it.
In early 2023 I started working at Endeavour Foundation in the marketing department. Marketing is something I’ve been interested in for a while because I felt it would be a great place where I could use my writing and storytelling skills.
I was excited when they offered me the job, but at the same time I was immediately nervous about doing something new. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to do it. Those negative thoughts came flooding back – you won’t be any good at it, they won’t like you, you won’t fit in. Listening to those thoughts makes it easier to say no. But I didn’t let them win. I wouldn’t know if I could do it unless I gave it a go. So, I said yes.
I may need to work a bit differently to other people – I can’t focus on one thing for long periods of time, for instance, so I need a structured day of varied tasks – but that doesn’t mean I can’t be a valuable contributor in a team.
Our society needs to challenge its assumptions about people with disability. We need more openness and less judgement.
Assumption kills confidence and opportunity. Unless we’re given the opportunity, we won’t know what we’re capable of, and you won’t either.
Imagine what so many others with disability could be doing, if they just had the opportunity to learn and explore different skills, and more places willing to let them put those skills into practice, to not just find a job, but do something they are passionate about.
When I said earlier that I had no dreams as a child, that wasn’t quite true. I did have a dream – that one day I’d be a writer, and people would read the things that I wrote. Now here I am, writing about my life story, and here you are, reading it. If telling my story can change even one mind, or help one person with disability, then I’ve done something meaningful and purposeful. Because I don’t want any other young kids with disability out there feeling the way I did, growing up.
There is so much for me to be proud of myself for. In my short, adult life, I’ve already done some great things. I’ve spoken at Parliament House about my experiences growing up as someone with disability; I’ve spoken on camera here at Endeavour, been part of live lottery draws, and written lots of content for the organisation. I’ve explored new interests, learned new things, made new friends. I’ve been given opportunities that, once upon a time, I never even considered would be a reality.
Now, I’m keen to see what the future holds.
So being a naughty boy did get me to where I am today.
It made me curious, and bold, and defiant. And it helped me to get back on track when I lost my confidence and didn’t want to continue with life anymore.
I knew in my heart that I was worth more than the negative opinions of strangers. And with every day that passes, surrounded by my loving support network, and with each opportunity I get, I’m continuing to show them that I am far more intelligent and capable than they believed, and that they were wrong to make assumptions about me without first getting to know me.
I’ve apologised so much for who I am over the years, but I’m not doing that anymore. Life can be best described as a journey with its fair share of difficulties, but I am fortunate that through self-acceptance and the love given to me by my friends and family, I am well on my way to being who I want to be in the life that I want to live.
There is so much for me to be proud of,
and I am only just getting started on my way.
By donating to Endeavour Foundation's tax appeal, you can help to provide more placements in our vocational skills training programs so that more people with disability can gain the skills they need to pursue wider job opportunities.
It will also help to develop new, innovative employer training programs that will give workplaces the tools they need to not only employ but also support people with disability – which is a great start to breaking down those long-standing barriers to meaningful employment.
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