Andrew’s Story: From Bullied Boy to Life Coach

A Rough Start

Growing up in Belfast in the 80s and 90s was no easy ride. I was bullied repeatedly at school—teased for my weight, mocked for being quiet, and often cornered by kids who seemed to know I wasn’t equipped to fight back.

Back then, things were different. Teachers weren’t exactly role models of kindness. Even though physical discipline had long been banned, some of the older ones still couldn’t help themselves. A clip around the ear, a shove, a smack with a ruler—things that today would make headlines were just another day in the classroom.

You didn’t run home to your parents and complain. That was weakness. You didn’t report the teachers, either. That was weakness too. So you bottled it up. And for me, I comfort ate. Food became my escape, but also my curse. The more I ate, the bigger I got. The bigger I got, the more they bullied me. A vicious circle I couldn’t break.

Feeling Unequipped

I came from a good family, with wealth, stability, and love at home. But my school was full of kids from rougher neighbourhoods, kids who had tough upbringings and knew how to survive in ways I didn’t. They smelled weakness, and I had it written all over me.

A Turning Point

One day, everything shifted. A lad at school—one of the tough ones, ironically—took a liking to me. Maybe he saw something in me others didn’t. His dad ran a local boxing club, and he invited me along.

I was terrified at first, but that gym became my sanctuary. For the first time, I wasn’t weak. I trained, I sweated, I punched bags until my knuckles ached. And slowly, the weight came off. My body grew stronger, but more importantly, so did my mind.

I never ended up in fights. That wasn’t the point. The point was that I knew, deep down, I could look after myself if I needed to. And that confidence changed everything.

Becoming a Coach

Now in my 50s, I’m a personal trainer and life coach. But I don’t chase the glamorous clients. I seek out people I can relate to—the ones who feel invisible, who carry old scars, who think they’re not good enough. Because I know what it feels like to be that kid, trapped in a cycle of fear and shame.

And I know what it feels like to break free.

For me, fitness isn’t about six-packs or posing in the mirror. It’s about becoming strong enough inside and out to live the life you want. It’s about showing up for yourself, even when the world feels like it’s against you.

That’s what I teach. That’s what I live by. That’s what keeps me quietly glorious.

— Andrew, Belfast