What do you want?

You’ve done everything right. So why doesn’t it feel right?

I spent twenty years building a life that looked exactly how it was supposed to, then broke down on a footpath in suburban Brisbane without knowing why (That story’s here).

This page is about what I do now.

Is this you?

You’re not in crisis. That’s what makes it hard to talk about. You’re doing fine. Better than fine, most days. The job’s good, the family’s good, and if anyone asked, you’d say you can’t complain.

But you’ve got very good at answering “How are you going?” without saying anything true.

Sunday afternoons feel heavier than they used to. You’re tired in a way sleep doesn’t fix. And somewhere in the last few years, the thing you spent two decades building stopped feeling like yours. You’re just not sure when that happened, or who you’d tell.

You’re the one people come to. Nobody’s worried about you.

You’ve made sure of that.

What’s actually going on

Most men I work with aren’t unhappy because something’s gone wrong. They’re unhappy because nobody ever asked them what they wanted.

We get told early. Study this. Earn that. Buy the house. Be responsible. Most of it comes from people who love us and mean well; and it works, right up until the day you realise you’ve built an entire life around other people’s answers.

Here’s the part that surprises men most.

Wanting something for yourself isn’t selfish. It’s the thing everything else depends on.

What we do together

We start with the question you’ve been avoiding: What do you actually want?

You won’t answer it in the first session. Almost nobody does. What we do is work out what sits underneath it: the beliefs you’ve inherited, the stories you’ve accepted, the things you’ve been calling ‘just how it is’.

Then we work out what’s in the way, and what has to change.

I’m not going to hand you a plan. I don’t know how you should live, and neither does anyone else. What I’ve got is twenty years of asking better questions, and the experience of doing this work on myself when I couldn’t see a way through.

You’ll do work between sessions. Some of it will be uncomfortable. That’s the part that actually moves things.

Ways to work with me

Start here: The First Conversation

Free · 20 minutes · Phone or video

No pitch. No pressure.

I’ll ask what’s going on. You ask whatever you want. At the end I’ll tell you honestly whether I think I can help — and if I can’t, I’ll say so and point you somewhere better.

Most men have never said any of this out loud. Twenty minutes is usually enough to find out whether saying it helps.

Five in Five

$197 USD · Five 30-minute sessions · Weekly

Five weeks on one question: What do you actually want?

Thirty minutes at a time, with something to work on between each one. Short enough to fit around a real life. Long enough to get somewhere.

You’ll finish with more clarity than you’ve had in years, and a decision to make about whether you want to go deeper.

It’s priced low on purpose. I’d rather you started than spent another six months thinking about it.

The Full Engagement

$1,600 USD · Ten sessions over five months · Weekly or fortnightly

This is where the real work happens

Ten sessions to work out who you are, what you want, what’s in the way, and what you’re going to do about it.

Includes:

• Ten one-hour sessions
• Work between every session
• Email access between sessions
• A review at the halfway point

If you’ve done Five in Five, that $197 USD comes off this.

Payment plans available. This is my introductory rate for 2026.

The Round Table

$49 USD · Monthly · 90 minutes · Online

A small group of men — no more than eight — working through one question together.

Most men have never had this conversation with another bloke. Not once. That’s the whole point of the room.

You don’t have to say anything. Turn your camera off if you want. But most men find that hearing someone else say the thing out loud is what finally lets them say it too.

Currently online. In-person sessions in Brisbane coming soon.

What this isn’t

It isn’t therapy. If you’re dealing with depression, trauma, or something clinical, you want a psychologist — and I’ll tell you so. Coaching is for men who are functioning and want more than functioning.

Note: If you’re in a darker place than this page describes, coaching isn’t the right help — and that’s not a failure on your part. Call Lifeline on 13 11 14, any time of day or night.

It isn’t advice. I’m not going to tell you to leave your job or your marriage. Those are your calls. My job is to make sure you’re making them consciously.

It isn’t forever. The point is that you stop needing me.

What you’re probably thinking

“I should be able to work this out myself.”
That was my first mistake too. I was partly right — I just couldn’t do it alone. Being smart enough isn’t the same as being able to see yourself clearly.

“I’m not bad enough to need this.”
You’re comparing yourself to men who are genuinely struggling and deciding you don’t qualify. You don’t have to be falling apart to want something better. Waiting until you are is the expensive option.

“I don’t have time.”
Thirty minutes a week to start. You’ve spent twenty years finding time for everyone else.

“I’m not sure I want to talk about my feelings.”
Neither was I. This is less about feelings than you’d think. It’s mostly about being honest with yourself about what you want — which turns out to be harder, and more useful.

It works

Most of the men I work with arrive believing that wanting something for themselves would make them selfish.

One of them had spent so long keeping everyone else happy that he’d stopped having preferences at all. He worried that turning any attention inward would make him a worse husband.

It did the opposite.

A few months in, his wife told him she’d noticed the difference. Not that he’d become selfish. That he was more present than he’d been in years.

Where to start

Twenty minutes. No cost. No pitch.