Detainment to Attainment

The 5 Keys That Unlocked My Mind During A Year in Immigration Detention

June 13: One Year in Detention

Authors Note:

A year ago today, I was detained by Australian Border Force.

No warning. No sentence. Just a good ole fashioned bait-and-switch… a parole meeting that turned out to be a handcuff handover. One moment I was walking in free, the next I was in the back of a van headed straight into a system full of grey walls, shifting goalposts, and bureaucratic fog.

Welcome to limbo. Population: me.

But pretty early on, I made a choice… one I’d have to remake most mornings. I wasn’t going to let this place decide who I became.
If I was stuck here, I’d at least use the time. Not let it use me.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not polishing a turd and calling it a pearl. There were days I hit the floor emotionally. Plenty of them, too. Days I didn’t want to get out of bed, let alone make it.

But through the madness, five things slowly rose to the top. Not fancy ideas or wishful thinking… just real, grounded daily practices that kept me human when this place was trying to file that off me.

And here’s the gold: you don’t need to be behind razor wire for these to matter.
You could be trapped in a job, a routine, a relationship, a rut… anything that feels like it’s shrinking you. These five things? They’re escape hatches for the soul.

Here’s what helped me hold the line.
Maybe they’ll do the same for you.

1. Humour — The Freedom I Can Keep
"Against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand." — Mark Twain

It’s hard to explain how important laughter becomes in a place like this.

There’s no escape… so you either sink, or you start digging for reasons to smile.

For me, it’s been the hilarious moments with my partner. I’ve said it before… I’ve had more belly laughs this past year than probably the last ten combined. Our humour’s so in sync we barely make it through a phone call without cracking up. Just three nights ago, she told me she’d never heard me laugh so hard. And if you knew what triggered it? Let’s just say… it was not highbrow. It wouldn’t win any awards for sophistication and that’s the point. Joy doesn’t need a silver platter. It just needs someone willing to look for it.

In here, humour isn’t just relief. It’s resistance.

The jokes we have carry just enough truth to sting, and just enough cheek to keep us afloat. It’s a fine line… walk it well, and you can stay upright in the roughest of seas.

It wasn’t constant. But it was regular enough to remind me:
They can lock up your body, but they can’t confiscate your sense of humour.

That’s yours.
That’s freedom.
And in a place built to flatten you, that’s what keeps you going.

How to use it outside the wire?
Don’t wait for life to be polished or perfect to laugh. Find the funny in the mess. Swap the news for a daft meme. Call that mate who always makes you wheeze. Be the one who breaks the tension with a wink or a wisecrack. It’s not shallow… it’s soul-saving. When you choose to laugh, especially when it’s hard, you’re not escaping life. You’re showing it who’s boss.

2. Writing — Making Sense of It All
"We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect." — Anaïs Nin

I didn’t set out to be a writer in here. I just needed a way to keep busy.
To stop the noise from taking over.

It started small… notes to myself, reflections scribbled on the back of forms, texts to loved ones. I’d rewrite in my head a hundred times before hitting send. Then it grew… into poems, journal entries, essays. And eventually, Unshackled.

Writing helped me create meaning where there was none. It turned endless waiting into something worthwhile. It reminded me that I still had a voice… even in here. Especially in here.

When I couldn’t speak freely, I could still write honestly. And that was enough.

Ironically, finding my voice through writing has led to me using it out loud… now running presentations and workshops with the guys in here. Speaking hope into the room, not because I’ve got it all figured out, but because I know what it feels like to be lost.

Some days, it felt like shouting into the void. But even before anyone was reading, it gave structure to my thoughts. It helped me feel seen. And when the words finally started reaching others? It made it all worthwhile.

I don’t write because I have all the answers. I write because it helps me survive the questions.

How to use it outside the wire?
You don’t need to be a poet. You just need a pen… or the Notes app. Write what you’re feeling before it festers. Write a list of what’s good when everything feels bad. Write a message to someone you miss. Writing doesn’t fix the chaos, but it clears a space inside you where you can breathe again. And sometimes, that’s enough to keep going.

3. Exercise — Keeping Myself Going
"It is exercise alone that supports the spirits and keeps the mind in vigour." — Marcus Tullius Cicero

There’s a small gym here. Limited equipment. Limited time. But enough. Just enough.

I started with the basics… body-weight routines, light weights, boxing. Not for the mirror. Not to chase a six-pack. For my mind. For the rhythm. For the feeling that I still had control over something when everything else was chaos.

Even when the rest of my world felt stuck, I could still move. Maybe not far. But far enough to remember I was alive.

And when I train… whether it’s a 60-minute lift or five rounds on the pads… it becomes more than just exercise. It’s a message. To myself. To the system. I’m still here. And I’m still choosing life.

There were days I didn’t want to do it. But I always felt better after. A little stronger. A little clearer. A little more like the bloke I want to be.

How to use it outside the wire?
Don’t overthink it. You don’t need a fancy gym or a fitness tracker that costs more than your weekly shop. Just move your body. Go for a walk. Do some push-ups. Stretch while the kettle boils. Get the blood pumping and the mind will follow. It’s not about punishment. It’s about reminding yourself… you still have power. And you’re still worth showing up for.

4. Connection — The Reason I Keep Showing Up
"We are born in relationship, we are wounded in relationship, and we can be healed in relationship." — Harville Hendrix

This one’s a tough one.

Because some days, connection felt far away. Calls dropped out. Emails disappeared into the void. People on the outside, through no fault of their own, started to drift.

But then came the anchors.

The slow, solid build of a relationship based on real communication… not convenience. The laughs with my parents, still managing to take the mick and lift the mood like only they can. The chats with my sisters… now proud grandmothers… who somehow wrap joy in every word like it’s a family tradition.

The bond with my daughter… not always frequent (she’s a teenager, after all), but unshakeable. When we talk, I don’t hear distance. I hear home.

My “ride and die” friends, you know who you are. The ones that always show up for me when I do need them. Because… I do need them. And appreciate them.

And then… the unexpected connections. From readers. Fellow writers. From strangers who saw my words, and in them, saw me. Not as a case number. Not as a detainee. But as a man. As a human being.

These are the threads that stitched me back together when I was starting to come undone. They reminded me I’m still a partner. A father. A son. A mate.

Not a file on someone’s desk. Not a warning label. A person.

How to use it outside the wire?
Reach out. Properly. Not just a like or a “u good?” text. Call your mate. Hug your nan. Reply to that message you’ve been meaning to get back to. Connection doesn’t have to be deep every time… but it does have to be real. Don’t wait for a crisis to realise who matters. Remind them. Remind yourself. That’s how we stay human.

5. Purpose — Choosing How I Live
"He who has a why to live can bear almost any how." — Friedrich Nietzsche

I ran my workshop last Tuesday on this very quote by Nietzsche. It went off!

Detention is built for limbo. You’re not sentenced. You’re not free. You just wait.

But I decided not to wait.

I read. I trained. I reflected. I wrote. I showed up for other detainees when I could. And when the staff asked me to run motivational workshops, I said yes… not because I had all the answers, but because I know what it feels like to be lost.

I couldn’t change where I was. But I could change how I used each day.

And over time, I started to remember who I really am. Not just a guy caught in a system, but someone with skills, passion, value.

Whether it’s through the written word or standing in front of a group, something comes alive in me. And that something is purpose.

How to use it outside the wire?
Find your why. When life feels stuck in limbo, decide to show up anyway. Keep learning. Keep creating. Offer your presence to others. Purpose isn’t about having all the answers… it’s the choice to keep moving forward even when the path is unclear. That’s how we reclaim our humanity.

One Year On

June 13 isn’t a celebration. But it’s not a day for commiseration either.

It’s a marker.

A moment to look back on a year that… against all odds… became one of the most meaningful of my life.

Not because it was easy. But because I grew. I stripped everything back and found what truly matters.

Humour. Writing. Exercise. Connection. Purpose.

They didn’t set me completely free. But they gave me the strength to stay free on the inside. And in a place built to break you quietly, that’s no small thing.

If you’re reading this and facing your own tough season, a stuck moment, or a silent struggle… maybe these five things can help you too. Don’t hesitate to reach out and share your journey. If there’s any way I can help, you know I will…. Just reach out….

Final Thought…

These keys… they’re not magic.

But when you use them all in unison, they become the skeleton keys we need to open any lock on our mind.

Stay Unshackled, My Friends.