For a long time, what people saw on the outside and what was happening inside were two very different worlds.
I grew up in Mount Isa, a mining town in outback Queensland, Australia.
There were some great years there. I got involved in music, made close friends and had experiences I still look back on fondly.
But there was another side to it that almost nobody knew about.
I was bullied and humiliated at school from a very young age.
I worried far too much about what other people thought of me and was constantly seeking approval from others.
But I didn’t walk around telling people any of that because I became an expert at hiding it.
I just got on with life.
To most people, I was Harold. Easy to get along with, involved in things, making friends, having a laugh and doing what everybody else was doing.
My own family didn’t know about the bullying until I was in my forties.
That’s how separate those two worlds had become.
By the time I was 22, I wanted to leave Mount Isa.
People thought I was going overseas for a holiday, and in fact I was.
But in my head, I was actually escaping.
Little did I know I’d be away for 26 years before coming back to Australia to live.
The interesting thing is, leaving worked in plenty of ways.
My world got bigger. I travelled, met extraordinary people, built businesses, worked in different countries and eventually found myself in roles where people trusted me to make important decisions, solve problems and carry responsibility.
From the outside, I could look like somebody who had his shit together, and a lot of the time I did.
But intertwined with all of that were business failures, financial failures, relationship failures and periods of my life that literally felt like hell.
Sometimes things were going well. Sometimes they weren’t.
Either way, the conversations inside my head didn’t just disappear.
There were still doubts I kept to myself, times when I wanted approval more than I wanted to admit, and situations where I could appear calm and capable while something very different was going on underneath.
For years, I didn’t really see those things as connected.
They were just life.
You get on with it, deal with what’s in front of you and keep moving.
It took me a long time to realise that changing the outside of my life didn’t automatically change everything happening inside it.
That realisation became a big part of what I eventually wanted to understand.
