Knowing who you are

For the very first time, since graduation in 2012, I have found recruitment to be a battle, the whole process appears to be based on ability alone, and the fact an individual does or does not have autism apparently has nothing to do with it. Recruiters have suggested that they should follow suit and include autistic as well as neurotypical participants. What is most important is to be somebody who knows themselves better than anyone else, somebody who knows their strengths, but who also acknowledges that they have weaknesses and insecurities.

Most people would describe me as:

• Strong

• Passionate

• Kind

• Logical

• Brave

• Honest

• Intelligent

• Handsome

• Trustworthy

• Growing

• IT-Wizz

• Husband

• Son

• Grandson

• Cat-dad

• Academic

• Fashionable

• Dedicated

• Male

It seems that the whole game is about putting us as contestants under the microscope, exposing us to as much stress as possible, such that we're forced to confront elements of their personality that they've tried to keep hidden. Many have discovered talents within themselves that they never knew existed, others are surprised to find fault lines that under pressure start to crack apart. One of the advantages of the process of recruitment is that I have come away with far greater understanding of every part of my personality. In hindsight, looking back over my career to date I have realised that I still had lots more to learn too.

Growing up I started out living in Basingstoke, which was classed as a working city. It's busy and vibrant, full of builders, bricklayers and scaffolders - plus the odd law firm - and it is as British as they come. Going from there to Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia was a lot to take in. All of a sudden we had swapped the 4 bedroom house for an apartment in Kuala Lumpur. I had been used to cul-de-sacs and the chatter of passers by at the local district shopping centre. Now we were surrounded by high rise apartments in a densely packed city. How come we are living in a high rise apartment? Its easy to deal with change when you're moving two streets away, or two villages away, but this was about starting a life all over again, in a new country. This strangeness was compounded by the exhilarating freedom I discovered in our newfound isolation. We had moved in during the early summer monsoons; and since mum and dad were focused on getting things up and running, I was given the run of the swimming pool around the apartment block. Nobody told me what I could and couldn't do. And then it all came to an end - I started at an International School in Malaysia. Me and my family didn't speak a word of the Malaysian language. I was going to be one of the first English children to attend the International School.

When we got back from Malaysia in May 1995, I went straight into building a den in the woods near where I lived in Basingstoke. If there is one positive to be gained from a life in Malaysia and the loss of my mother when I was 12 years old, it is the process of self-reflection. If I had a more normal upbringing I bet I would have continued on a happy, oblivious path like most kids. Instead, there was my mothers death when I was 12 years old, and its incredibly unsettling and disorientating aftermath 15 years later, so much so that I think I did remarkably well with my education, considering. 'How am I going to get through this, and what is the solution?'. Ultimately there wasn't a solution, or maybe there was one but at the age range of five to twelve years old, this was well above my pay grade. My mum and dad chose to come back to the UK and change things up again. I was just a kid and I had no choice or power.

What I realised was that you have to go along with things - you're attending the International School in Malaysia whether you like it or not. You are living in Malaysia and Basingstoke whether you like it or not. I had to adapt to it, otherwise I would have crumbled.

Starting and following through with a PhD is also going to be a long complex process - so complex that perhaps it would be better for me to leave this to the army and marines. With the beauty of hindsight while I haven't been able to change each of these life situations I have been given the ability to change the way I perceive the situation. In the process I developed a habit that has stayed with me to this present day. The magnitude of life situations I have been through has been at times, so overwhelming, that I could not possibly begin to understand it, although I did comprehend that we were in a new country where they spoke a different language. An obvious rule was not to understand what I couldn't understand. The only thing I could understand - again with the beauty of hindsight - was myself. I couldn't control anything about being in Malaysia, I couldn't change the sheer fact of our location, but I could look inside myself and see what tools I had to face the situation. So that's what I did. When I couldn't understand why my mother had died so young, I cut it out and instead focused more on myself. I could control what I was doing and feeling. I've learnt in life that you cannot expect to have the answers all of the time, so why torment and confuse yourself by pretending otherwise?