THE FULL STORY

My father left when I was two years old. I don't remember his face.

I was raised by my mum until I was six, and then by a stepfather who made it clear, in every way a child can understand, that I wasn't wanted. That lasted twelve years. There was abuse — the kind I still don't talk about in detail — and there was no version of "safe" in that house.

By ten, I was smoking. By thirteen, drinking. By seventeen, into things a lot harder than that. I failed college. I fell in with the wrong crowd — the kind your mother warns you about, because I was one of them. None of this is a badge of honour. It's just what happened.

At eighteen, I left Poland for the UK, chasing the promise of a few weeks' work and a car I never got. What I found instead was a caravan with no heating, a job that paid a third of what I was promised, and a toilet made of stacked tyres. I didn't see it as a tragedy at the time — I saw it as an adventure, because it was mine and nobody was controlling it.

My mum eventually found out how bad things were and got my cousin to pull me out. He and his family took me in. That's the moment everything actually started — not the moment I "found myself," but the moment someone gave me a roof and I finally had room to think.

I worked. I saved. I brought my mum over. I built something out of very little, one uncomfortable decision at a time.

None of that fixed what was underneath, though. For years I carried it quietly — the defensiveness, the inability to sit still with discomfort, the anxiety I didn't have a name for yet. Success on the outside. Unfinished business on the inside.

The real work started later — sitting with the parts of myself I'd spent years running from, instead of outrunning them again. Getting sober. Losing 20kg. Learning to actually regulate my own emotions instead of being run by them. Becoming a father to my daughter, Thea, and realising I was no longer just responsible for surviving my own life — I was responsible for what she'd learn about how a man carries himself.

Writing The Art of Becoming came out of that process — not as a business plan, but because I needed to write it before I could fully live it. It became the foundation for the way I coach now.

WHY LIVED EXPERIENCE, NOT CREDENTIALS

"I'm not teaching you something I read in a textbook. I'm teaching you something I had to physically climb out of."

I'm currently completing my NLP Practitioner certification because I believe in sharpening the tools I use — but the credibility behind this work was never the paper. It's the twelve years it took me to become a man I'm not ashamed to have my daughter learn from.

LIFE TODAY

Where I'm at now:

I'm an amazing dad
I get to travel the world with an amazing woman that I got engaged with
In the best shape of my life

Author, The Art of Becoming
NLP and Timeline Therapy Coach
Happiest that I have ever been
Clear sense of purpose and direction
I'm becoming the dream version of myself, over and over everyday
I found my calling, hence why you're here.

Why I coach

I don't help men become someone new. I help them stop performing a version of themselves that was never really them to begin with.

Most of the men I work with are already doing well by every measure that shows up on paper. What they're missing isn't information — they've usually read more books on this than I have. What they're missing is someone who's actually done it, sitting across from them, refusing to let them talk themselves out of the next decision.

That's the job. Not motivation. Not theory. Direct, honest work with someone who's already walked the road.

If you're ready to stop performing and start becoming, I'd like to hear from you.

Identity. Discipline. Purpose.

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