Mending the Heart: The Strength of Support and Understanding.

When a baby is born, the heart is pure and unafraid. We cry, and we receive everything we need: love, food, a change of clothes or nappy, and a roof over our head. We believe nothing can go wrong, and it will always be like this. But one day, you cry because you’re hungry and angry –?hangry?– but your parents are drunk. They don’t give you a bottle for two hours, even though you’ve been crying the whole time.

Your heart hurts a little, but you think it’s just a one-off, that next time your parents will be there for you. Unfortunately, it happens again, and again, and each time your heart hurts a little more.

Now you’re 5 years old. It's just you and your mum because your dad left one day. You don’t know why, and he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You keep asking, “Where is Daddy?” but your mum keeps saying, “He’s gone now and doesn’t love us.” Your mum’s drinking gets worse, and she still doesn’t come when you need something like food, a change of clothes, or a hug for comfort. Each time, your heart hurts a little more.

Now you’re 15 years old. Your mum is in another domestic violence (DV) relationship, and your basic needs still aren’t being met. You start acting out – fighting with your mum and stepdad, barely attending school. Nobody understands what’s wrong with you, and they keep putting you down.

Let’s pause for a second and break down what’s happening to you at age 15.

By this point, you’ve experienced things that have deeply affected your once-pure heart – things most kids your age wouldn’t even have nightmares about. All that time, each hurt has built a wall around your heart.

These walls will impact your whole life. They make you feel different from other kids your age, and you didn’t have a choice in building them. One of these walls might make you lash out in fights every time someone looks at you the wrong way or turn to self-harm because physical pain is easier to bear than emotional pain. But nobody understands you, let alone cares if you’re being fed, if you have a roof over your head, or if you’re getting the love you need to grow.

Now, let’s fast-forward. You’re 20 years old. Life is hard. You live on your own, and you’re an alcoholic, just like your mum. You struggle to hold down a job or regulate your emotions, leading to outbursts and a couple of court appearances.

But then you get a job as a carpenter and connect with one of the workers, Jack. Jack’s a good bloke, five years older than you, and he’s overcome some struggles of his own. You become close, and you open up to him about your childhood. As you talk, your heart feels heavy – it’s a strange feeling, different from the usual pain – but you keep talking to Jack over the next few weeks. Each time you talk, that heavy feeling lifts a little more. Jack suggests you see a professional for support.

You take his advice and work hard for the next six months to better yourself. You hold down the job, get into a healthy relationship, and you’re starting to manage your emotions better.

As with most stories, it ends on a hopeful note. But what actually happened to your heart?

First, it’s important to note that feeling physical pain during emotional distress is normal. If your heart hurts while reading this story, it’s not because you’re having a heart attack. I wrote this in a way that I hoped you’d feel some of the pain that the "you" in the story felt.

The pain you felt in the story was your heart building walls to protect itself from being hurt over and over again. Remember when we talked about how, at birth, our hearts are perfect and pure? As we go through life’s experiences – good and bad – our hearts change. The trauma you faced as a child made you put up walls, which led you to act out. And the cycle continued, because nobody understood you.

I’m sharing this with you because?you?can be someone’s Jack. You can be the person who believes in your clients when no one else does. We often see behaviour that seems inexplicable and label it as just "bad behaviour." But if we take a step back and think of the baby’s heart, we might ask: What are they missing? Is it food? Shelter? Love?

This is a superpower when working with young people. If you can identify what’s missing – whether it’s love, shelter, or security –?that?is what will begin to make the change. Even if you can’t fix their heart, you can still be the one person they need during tough times, working alongside other services and supports. As the saying goes, “It takes a village to raise a child,” and it definitely takes a village to help a child, teenager, or adult whose heart isn’t as pure as it once was.

I know this because all it took was one person to believe in me and help me reconnect with my pure heart. Doing so changed my life and my support system.

I hope that the next time you encounter someone who may need help finding their pure heart, you’ll remember this story. Remind yourself – and them – that it?can?be done. And you are there for them, no matter what, without judgment.