People start careers for various reasons. Some have a passion and an interest in the topic. Some want to make a difference by helping others, while it may be the money for others.

In my case, it began as all three, but soon it became much more than I could ever have imagined.

Through my teenage years and early to mid-twenties, I had primarily worked in the food industry and expected to stay managing and having part ownership in a restaurant. And while I was good at it, something was missing.

But for years, I would question it every once in a while, ask myself if I enjoyed it and could see myself in the industry for the rest of my life. So this question would come up occasionally, and most times, I would accept or talk myself into believing this was my career.

But then, the self-reflection became more prominent and demanded an honest answer. I found myself not accepting my self-talk as to this being my future. The nagging feeling I would get to be frank with myself became irritating till I decided I needed to take a good hard look at myself, my future, and what I truly wanted.

The one question I kept returning to time after time was, “do I feel a sense of purpose with what I am doing right now?” Quickly, the answer became a resounding, “NO!”

Then the doubt would come in, the thoughts like, “but you have small children at home, you can’t quit now and completely start over, and what would do that might give me that sense of purpose?”

Inevitably, I settled on the decision that I had to help others whatever I did. And by helping others, I would be helping myself.

At this time, I had been training in the martial arts, close to receiving my black belt in karate. In discussions with my Sensei at the time, Daniel Coles, we had agreed I could teach self-defence, not knowing how it would change my life.

From the very first time I got up in front of a class of about 20 teenage girls to teach, I was not terrified but highly excited and nervous in a good way. By the end of that first hour of teaching, I knew I had found my purpose for the rest of my life.

I was able to teach a topic that helped others, bring my personality (for better or worse) to this passion, and hopefully generate an income.

I soon decided to leave a comfortable, financially stable, secure “job” to begin this new journey. I can recall driving home after my last day in the food industry with an excitement unmatched in my work career.

The emotions were high, the yearning to dive deep into the business when the terror of, “what the hell have you done leaving a job paying me regularly to something unproven and zero guaranteed income.”

In the early days, I thought I needed to make money, and money was the critical and most crucial issue. And it was so I put my nose to the grindstone, as they say, focusing on building a self-defence program for high school girls.

I first focused on schools in Eastern Ontario in 1994, then a year or two later, as the number of schools was building and I was achieving some success, I began asking myself a new set of questions. Questions like, “why am I so obsessed with teaching self-defence? Why am I spending 16 hours plus a day on it, I am sure, to the detriment of my family?” Again, I thought of the money, but I knew there had to be more, but I did know why.

See, I had what I considered to be a perfect childhood. My sister and I often ask how we got so lucky with our parents. We saw no violence and experienced no violence, as many self-defence instructors have who gone into teaching to help others.

But that night, when I woke up crying, I recalled a story that I had buried, my trauma. When I was in grade 7 in an Ontario middle school, I was 11 or 12 years of age when an older student at the school rushed into the classroom and locked the door. He targeted another student, a young girl about the same age, and assaulted her in the classroom sexually.

I will not share the details, but I can still remember now, 45 years later, what he did, the anger he showed, but more impactful, the fear, sadness, and terror on the girl’s face. All of us kids hid under or behind the desks in fear until a teacher arrived. Unfortunately, the student physically assaulted the teacher as well.

I will not stop trying to find her and hope I can chat with her one day.

I am most proud of how many women, and some men we have not only taught but have certified to teach the SAFE program have shared their personal stories of abuse with me.

They want to help ensure other girls, boys, women and men never experience what they went through. And most of them had told me that when they first came to the SAFE website, they immediately connected to what we say we do, why we do it, and how.

We are not just teaching self-defence and violence prevention but also aiming to help Change & Save Lives.

Keep SAFE!