Running on Empty

By Damien Rider

Once I finished the paddle, I figured I would have something solid to share, a real achievement for my legacy. Part of that goal would be stoking the media's interest. My plan was to get a few local papers to do update stories along the way, find some places to give some talks after I paddled in for the day, spread the message, and help people go back to the beach. I felt I had something positive to share. I'm back in the ocean, and I'm feeling great with all this training. This message is what I want to share about how healing the ocean is. Go and paddle, go and surf... just get down to the beach. I really thought I was going to do the paddle, then get back to my life and build my active-wear business. That’s not what happened. From the moment I stepped into the water, laid on the board, and started stroking out of Rainbow Bay, my paddle became something much, much more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Damien Rider
• Release date: Apr 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005696047

Damien Rider

Damien Rider, an Australian, had been tormented by his childhood memories every day, and this continued even into his adulthood, causing him great pain and triggering flashbacks that led to self-destructive behavior. Despite seeking help from various psychologists without success, Damien decided to take charge of his own healing journey, confront his inner demons, and find the answers he needed.This marked a new phase in Damien’s life, which began with his solo and unassisted 800km paddleboard adventure from Gold Coast to Bondi, and he became even more motivated to assist others who have faced trauma, abuse, or difficulties in their daily lives. He utilized extreme endurance events to purposely put himself through various physical and mental pain to understand how to overcome them and keep moving forward smoothly, he would use these events as a medium to spread his message to the world, and his accomplishments in this area are incredibly inspiring.He has broken multiple world records and achieved several world-first events, authored books, produced films, and is now a highly sought-after speaker, a life coach to many celebrities, and a recognized innovator and leader in wellness worldwide.Damien Rider is a multi-faceted individual with a diverse range of skills and accomplishments. As a Life Coach and Mindset Mentor, Damien helps his clients shift their focus from problems to solutions, empowering them to approach challenges with a positive and proactive mindset. He encourages clients to identify clear solutions and goals, rather than dwelling on the complexities of life.Damien’s expertise in neurophysiology, and his passion for men’s health, gained him multiple awards for his wellness programs. His achievements as an Adventure & Extreme Sports Athlete, his international humanitarian work, and his contributions to the field of meditation further demonstrate his dedication to helping others discover their full potential mentally and physically.

Book preview

Chapter 1 Is This Normal?:

Our daily life went up and down like a crazy yo-yo. Sometimes, my mum’s boyfriend would be all right, knock around with us, have a laugh. Then a switch would go off in his head. The next thing I knew, I was getting dragged by a foot and smashed against a wall. He’d get drunk and attack my mother, absolutely beat the shit out of her and throw her against the wall. Her face was often black and blue, split open. He’d rape her and then turn on us if we tried to help her out. I’d go to bed, hear him laughing, then all of a sudden something would get smashed on the floor, or against the wall. Usually, it was my Mum’s head and frail body. I’d hear screams and thuds, sounds no one should hear. I would shake and scream so loud that nothing came out.

I remember the first time this happened, Scott says. I’d been out to the beach all day, I came back to the unit, and I heard Damien crying in Mum’s bedroom. The door was half ajar, so I walked in. Mum’s sitting on the bed, crying as well. Damien’s crying, and he’s got no clothes on. All of a sudden, Mum’s boyfriend comes out of nowhere, yells something at me, and slams the door. I just ran back to the beach.

My Mum was too scared to say anything. She wasn’t emotionally strong herself, and it was hard to get any answers as to why this was going on or what I was supposed to do. I would run outside and try to tell the neighbors. We’d scream for help, but no one listened. They’d go in the house and shut their doors, not wanting to be involved or pretend they didn’t see or hear anything. Early 1980s Australian society was not far along in their awareness and understanding of the effects of domestic and child abuse. There’s a lot more awareness now but still so far behind really addressing the long-term effects or giving access to a results-driven solution, to heal the negative emotional memories.

When things got really bad at home, I usually ran down the road to the beach. That was my sanctuary. I’d have to hide and sleep in the rocks, shivering uncontrollably on cold nights, sometimes naked or just in my PJs. During the day, if I weren’t in school, I’d look for new places, new caves, new bushes where I could sleep. I’d dig out some lantana bushes in the sand dunes nearby or hollow out a little cave. I should’ve been playing with friends on the beach, not looking for places to sleep on the streets, waiting for the next time I needed to save myself.

That’s it. Jetties, rock caves, and bushes, for both of us, Scott says. Sleeping in the sand’s not that comfortable; it’s hard and cold, and you don’t sleep too well. We slept in trees as well; I fell out a couple of times. Really, we slept in a lot of different places.

One night when I was seven, I walked down the beach to Glenelg jetty, spending the night sleeping on the streets after another hectic blood bath at the house. I was standing out at the end of the jetty, and I could hear a group of drunk men coming towards me. I remember shaking uncontrollably, and as I went to walk past them, one of them picked me up and threw me off the jetty. From midnight to sun-up, I clung to the jetty pilings, the barnacles ripping my hands and arms apart. Finally, I swam to shore, went to the cop station, and yelled at them I was going to kill all of them — the cops — for doing fuck-all and allowing this shit to happen.

I lived in fear at home and in fear on the streets. Adelaide was full of thugs and pedophiles; riots plagued the city in 1984. I constantly feared pedophiles or child murderers would get me as some of the biggest names in Australian history of serial killers were around those parts then.

When I went to school, I would always be put on detention, because I showed up with bruises or cut arms. The teachers thought I was fighting with kids on the way to school. They never listened to what was really going on. Between them and the police not doing anything, I lost all respect for authority figures or rules.

His history is amongst the worst cases that I have come across in almost 40 years of practice as a psychologist, Australian psychologist Dr. Brett Addison writes. To listen to even brief descriptions of what he endured leaves a listener severely traumatized.

So, what happens when your childhood is so messed up? A childhood of traumatic, systematic and ongoing child abuse, so full of anger, emotional and physical pain and the constant fear of survival? He continues, Your connection with the social definition of normal goes out the window — for life. How can you live in a normal way when you never saw or experienced a minute of it from the people you’re supposed to look up to and learn from as a kid?

Life becomes unpredictable and chaotic, with lots of ups and downs, but not the ups and downs compared to, say, a road with dips in it. These ups and downs are like a rundown Six Flags rollercoaster every day, leaving everyone hanging on, holding their breath, hoping to get through it, and feeling less balanced and more inner chaos after doing so.

When you endure what Scott and I did, and somehow survive, you learn to become resourceful on your own, even as a young bloke. We also knew about the struggle in putting some food on the table. I would walk the streets with my mum to collect cans and bottles and get the deposits, or she would work in a factory or do some house cleaning to get by.

My brother and I found more creative ways to pitch in. Since Mum couldn’t afford bikes for us, we would go to the rubbish dump, pick bits of bikes out of the trash, and put them together into something we could