To understand who I am, and why I created Man 2 Man, you first need to understand where I came from.

My parents were born in El Salvador, a small country in Central America torn apart by civil war. My mum had already lived through a rough childhood, and her fiancé was murdered in front of her— a moment that deepened trauma she carried from a young age. My dad, before meeting her, had been in and out of jail. Eventually, the two met and began building a life together.

During the civil war, while my mum was pregnant with my second sister, she was shot — taking around to the leg and stomach shortly after finishing her shift at the bakery. The violence and instability around them were constant. When Australia opened its doors and offered refuge through its embassy, my parents and my sister were able to escape.

They started again in the western suburbs of Melbourne, Victoria. We grew up in housing commission, speaking Spanish at home, and navigating life as first-generation Australians, in low socioeconomic circumstances. Living that way made me question my worth from a young age and further eroded my self-esteem. Combined with what I was exposed to at home, it slowly pulled me away from the values I had gained through my religious upbringing.

Our home was a mix of love, chaos, violence, addiction, and emotional instability. My parents had no coping mechanisms, and it showed. There was yelling, aggression, name-calling, and moments that left me feeling unsafe, unloved, and unworthy. When I was in early primary school, my dad left us for another woman, and the fallout from that shaped a lot of my early years.

I carried that confusion and pain into high school. By Year 7, I was already drifting. I struggled academically, stopped caring, and eventually dropped out in Year 11. I started drinking at 14 or 15, hanging around the wrong crowds, getting into trouble, and living in survival mode. In my environment, drugs, violence, and crime felt normal. It was exciting, and I didn’t treat people the way they deserved. But deep down, I always knew I wanted more. Since I was young, I dreamed of becoming a soldier. It was the only thing that kept me in school long enough to get the grades.

The turning point came when some close mates got into trouble and ended up in prison. If it wasn’t for the fact that I happened to be somewhere else that night, I would have been with them. That was my moment. I signed up, left home, and moved to Townsville at 19.

The Army became a surrogate father. I learned values, discipline, and purpose — but I also carried a lot of my old habits with me. There were still poor decisions, alcohol, and no guidance. And then came the suicides of some of my friends… moments that made me question everything.

Eventually, I met my partner — the person who expected more of me and saw potential I couldn’t see in myself. Together we had our first daughter, and that became a turning point.

From the moment we started building a family, my trauma truly began to surface. Trying to create a healthy relationship and raise well-nurtured kids brought out the hurt I had carried for years — hurt from constantly seeking my father’s approval, craving an arm around my shoulder that never came. I had spent my life masking those feelings through overachievement, pushing myself to perform instead of allowing myself to feel. It was only in a loving and supportive environment that everything I had suppressed finally came to the surface. Facing it was uncomfortable, but it became the beginning of real growth, healing, and understanding the kind of man I wanted to be.

Over the next ten years, I built a strong military career, deployed to Afghanistan twice, and welcomed two more daughters. During this time, I also put myself through university while working full-time, driven by a desire to better myself and create a different future for my family.

And when the Army chapter closed, I realised something important:

Everything I went through — the trauma, chaos, mistakes, mentorship, and growth — had prepared me for this.

Man 2 Man exists to give boys what I never had — guidance, stability, direction, and a positive male role model.
A chance to break cycles.
A chance to become the men they were meant to be.