A sheltered kid

“I never imagined myself being in these positions and doing as well as I have, never imagined it being possible,” he says. “I just feel incredibly blessed.”

That’s partly because, for Paul, getting to this point was no easy feat.

Survival mode

Paul doesn’t have many strong recollections of his childhood. A parental divorce and a move to a new city when he was 12 tend to bring up feelings he’d rather avoid.

“A lot of my childhood up until the age of 18 is a very hazy, confusing spot that I prefer not to revisit,” he says. “I can’t trust my own memories.”

After completing high school in 2016, he enrolled in a university course on a bridging program for Indigenous students. For a young man who’d been “sort of coddled” as a child, the sudden freedom was more than Paul could manage.

“Too much independence too fast can be devastating,” he says. “I became lost very quickly. It was very difficult, trying to figure out who I was.”

He began drinking, as a way of “getting rid of the bad thoughts”.

“Just to get through the day or wipe a bad day from memory, all that sort of stuff.”

In the midst of alcohol dependence and depression, he remembered that he’d always wanted to be a soldier.

A supportive recruitment advisor pointed him in the right direction, and Paul joined the army – first in the reserves, then leaving university to take on a full-time role as an infantryman.

“It’s always something I wanted to do since I was young,” says Paul, who joined the Royal Australian Infantry Corps in February 2018. “I just sort of threw all my eggs into that one basket.”

A proud moment

Army recruit training was brutal, especially for someone who describes himself as “not physically inclined”. That Paul managed to get through it surprised even his greatest supporters.

He recalls his march-out parade as the proudest moment of his life, watched on by his parents, stepparents, sister, grandparents and an uncle.

“I suppose everybody thought it was a bit of a pipe dream,” he says. “Once I actually managed it, it was vindication for me and even a vindication for others who may have doubted me but wanted the best for me.”

With a spring in his step, Paul was posted to the 1st Battalion of the Royal Australian Regiment in Townsville.

It was early 2020, just as the pandemic arrived. Before he had even had a chance to settle in, military training and exercises were cancelled or postponed.

This signalled a turn for the worse for Paul. The confinement and boredom prompted heavy drinking and a lack of focus, and his mood began to spiral.

When training eventually restarted, he wasn’t prepared for it – physically or mentally. He deteriorated further, leading to a major personal crisis.

“All these feelings just came to the surface,” he says. “It was an incredibly difficult time and I’m just glad I made it through.”

In mid-2022, Paul was medically discharged from the army – a tough moment which, in hindsight, he sees as a blessing in disguise. He managed the discharge process on his own, with no advocate.

“It reinforced that stubbornness and, you know, being willing to forge my own success.”

Community and clarity

Paul spent a few months at home feeling miserable before deciding to get back on track.

He knew that ACU had a dedicated Veteran Entry Program and admission pathways for Indigenous students, and thought the university seemed a good fit.

When he arrived at the Melbourne Campus in Fitzroy, what he found was community, so he immediately threw himself into it – living in student accommodation on campus, getting involved with the veterans’ society and the Jim-baa-yer unit.

Then, in his first year of study, Paul got sober. It was, he says, the turn that changed it all.

“That was the driver into the successes I’ve been blessed with, and all the opportunities I never imagined I would ever have.”

In May 2024, Paul went through another change when he converted to Catholicism. He describes this as a “major catalyst” that provided new meaning for the struggles he had experienced.

“All those awful things that happened to me, that suffering served a purpose,” he says.

Two years in, he’s still figuring it all out, “still failing in some respects”. But his newfound faith has given him two crucial things that he’d been missing: a stable identity and a sense of direction.  

“It inspires me to keep getting up and plodding along,” he says, “while also trying to help others to do the same.”

Being of service

Paul’s initial draw to studying criminology was simple.

“It was just tied to my need to get back into a uniform,” he says.

What kind of uniform – police, corrections or border force – was less important than the sense of belonging that would come with it.

“You see somebody in the same uniform, you’ve done the same stuff, you probably have a similar pattern, way and manner of speaking, the same mentality towards the job and what it entails,” he says. “So there’s a comfort in having that uniform, the solidarity and commonality it brings.”

Four years in, however, his outlook has changed. Paul is now more open to where his eventual qualification will take him, and sees the degree as “more of a vehicle”.

“It’s a way of making networks, finding companionship and taking advantage of those other opportunities for professional development outside of the degree,” he says.

“All the extracurricular things I’m doing – the Student Veterans Society, the Indigenous Higher Education Unit, the Campus Ministry – they’ve been major drivers in reframing that need to be in uniform.”

In place of that is “a need for service”. Wherever he can, Paul is using his own lived experience – as a former soldier, as a Wiradjuri man, as someone who’s struggled with depression and addiction – to guide others who’ve faced similar struggles.

“When somebody is struggling and they come to me, I find it a blessing that they can trust me with their struggles,” he says. “It’s being a living testimony and giving counsel where I can. I just hope I'm doing right by them by being there, giving some kind words.”

It’s a far cry from the sheltered kid who didn’t get out much, and felt no desire to be with others.

“It’s been quite the evolution,” he admits.

Meanwhile, when you ask Paul what he’d say to a veteran considering university study, the answer is both practical and wise.

“Be patient,” he says. “You’ve still got plenty of life ahead of you. And remember to give yourself some grace.”