On Directions Part 3
To all the square ones we encounter throughout our lives.
I’m currently in a transitional period of my life. For a long while now—the last couple of weeks or so—I was so determined to join the Air Force. And I want to take a moment, from this busy life, to reflect on that decision.
There was a point at my current job when I was working and I realised that Michelin had offered everything it could to me. That I had taken all that I could from this place—and that, in order to grow, in order to see the world, I needed to move on.
And perhaps part of that came from the trips I took with Kevin, to various places around the world. I realised how big the world really is. And how small my personal world had become.
Each time I returned to work after a holiday, I felt like I was back inside a bubble. A safe bubble. But a small one. And it made me feel small. Like I wasn’t living up to my full potential. Like I could be doing more, being more.
So, I started looking. I wanted to take some time off from full-time work and maybe work part-time, to give myself space to breathe, to explore the things I haven’t had much time for—writing, gaming, dreaming. But honestly? I manage my time so efficiently that I can squeeze all of that in already. So maybe, just maybe, I didn’t need more time. I just needed a pause. A deep breath.
I looked up airport roles—ramp agents, that kind of thing—and while browsing, I came across a job called “Air Traffic Controller.” It caught my eye. And when I dug deeper, I found out that the Australian government also offered that role through the Air Force.
And that sparked something in me.
I thought—I think I can do something like that.
A specialised team. A role that challenges me. That pushes my limits.
And so, I did what any sensible man would do at that point—
I told literally everyone in my life.
Most of them were shocked. But also supportive.
I signed up for the career information session, and I’m glad I did—because it was an eye-opener. Four presenters spoke that day, and I noticed something strange. None of them… had a soul. Not one of them showed warmth or humanity in the way they spoke. One of them, a sergeant, said that the main goal of the Australian Defence Force is to “put bombs on targets.”
And that didn’t sit right with me.
I left that session feeling… conflicted. Split. Unsure.
I learned I would have to serve six years minimum. And I was ready to do it. I was ready for a change. Ready to relocate if needed. I’m free. I’m single. I’m untethered. Uncommitted. The perfect candidate.
But then—something shifted.
I was sitting at my favourite café, eating a schnitzel roll, when a thought hit me:
A core part of who I am… is curiosity.
I ask why when others don’t. I feel deeply. I see people, truly see them, and I want to connect.
And then it dawned on me.
The military suppresses those things. Curiosity and feelings don’t belong on a battlefield. They’re liabilities. At the wrong moment, they can cost lives. If you question orders—or hesitate to pull a trigger—that’s it.
And I thought, What am I doing?
I’m a healer.
Not a warrior.
That’s why massage therapy made sense.
And suddenly, I felt lost again.
Back to square one.
So I asked myself the question—if I could do anything in the world, what would I choose?
And the answer was simple. It was always there, waiting.
I want to return to personal training.
I want to help people transform—mind and body.
I want to connect deeply. And I still want to see the world.
And then it clicked.
A personal trainer on a cruise ship.
I’ve seen those guys on the Princess Cruise before, never imagining that one day I could be that guy. But now? That’s exactly what I want to be.
It’s the dream. Leading group classes. Hosting seminars. Working with older clients. Helping them move, stretch, come back to life. And between sessions? Exploring the world.
These nights, I sleep like a baby. My mind is calm. My heart is full.
Because I have a direction now.
And that—
That feels amazing.
Future Note to Self:
If you ever get lost, remember—
You’re a healer.
You’re here to hold space for people to be themselves.
To see them.
To help mend the parts of them that are ready to be mended.
Not to fix them—because people aren’t broken.
They just need to be held.
Edited by Philip
Added Future Note to Self section
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