

Mark Scott-Majhet

With my brother Peter. A proud day - officially welcomed to the NSW Police (30 September 2000)

Proud parents. But looking back mum does look a bit worried. (30 September 2000)

With my gorgeous and supportive wife.
As a child, I grew up in the western suburbs of Sydney, and from the age of five, I had a clear ambition to become a police officer. School was never easy for me—academics didn’t come naturally, and no matter how hard I tried, I always seemed to just scrape by at best. This continued throughout my schooling, but I pushed through with determination. At 19, I entered the police academy.
By 20, I was serving as a cop in Western Sydney. It was a tough job, but I loved it. In the earlier years, it was all about the mateship, loyalty, and camaraderie, coupled with the excitement of chasing bad guys. It made the job thrilling. Looking back, I realise there was no shortage of great role models to look up to, but the most important thing was the brotherhood and sisterhood that existed. We all had a common goal and a genuine respect for each other and that's what made it all worth it.
Fast forward fifteen years into my life and career. From the outside, things may have looked happy and successful, but on the inside, I was struggling. I felt scared and afraid without a logical reason for my fear. My world felt like it was crumbling, and that was terrifying. I sought medical help, and within a few months, it became clear that the challenging and traumatic experiences of my past had caught up with me—PTSD had taken hold. It didn't take long before the reality set in that my policing career was over. That realisation alone was frightening, but even more so was how I viewed the future. The world felt dangerous and unpredictable, and having a young family only amplified my fear. It saddened me deeply because I wanted to be the best husband and father I could be, yet my healing trajectory didn’t seem promising.
I threw myself into the healing journey, knowing that my odds of living a fulfilled, loving, and purposeful life were uncertain. I understood that true healing required not just effort but also curiosity, an open mind, and self-accountability. I committed to this fully. I followed the guidance of medical experts, but I also explored alternative therapies, lifestyle adjustments, and strategies to improve my quality of life. More than anything, I wanted to be present with my wife and children—to feel love and connection without intrusive memories, visions, and nightmares getting in the way. I made a promise to myself to never stop striving for healing, and I kept that promise. Along the way, I connected with many others suffering from PTSD and noticed a pattern. Most reached a certain level of recovery and then moved on with their lives. I experienced this as well. I call this stage 'therapy overload' where I was exhausted from therapy. I had healed to a point where I could manage my symptoms and get by in life, but was I truly fulfilled? No. Was I content? Absolutely not. I was out of survival mode, but something inside me pushed for more.
About five years into my journey, I attended a seminar where I was guided through a process that changed everything. I asked myself a simple yet profound question: "In years to come, who is the person I want to be?" I got very visual with my answer. How emotionally connected do I want to be with my family? How do I want to show up for my children, my wife and my community? The question scared me because I was nowhere near the ideal version of myself. The deep connection I longed for with my family was not yet available to me. But as with any goal, clarity on the outcome was essential. I was already committed to healing, but now I embraced relentless curiosity to self-improvement. Many times, I found myself plateauing until I came across something new. A podcast, an audiobook, a meditation technique—something would introduce a fresh perspective or tool. I would adopt it, test it, analyse it, and, if beneficial, incorporate it into my daily life. I had to reinvent myself and take control of my future.
I became crystal clear about the mindset I wanted to cultivate, the personality I wanted to develop, and how I wanted to show up each day. Meditation practices are now part of my daily routine and when possible I ask myself "What emotional state do I want to be in today?" I took full accountability for my life and committed to continual growth and lifelong learning. One of the most powerful beliefs I adopted was: "There will always be more to learn and discover to improve the quality of my life." This belief gave me hope when I was at my lowest, and as it turns out, it was true. Keeping an open mind to new possibilities was essential to my healing journey.
Ten years after my diagnosis, I am a completely transformed person. I now have a deep sense of positivity, a passion for life, and a belief system that is the complete opposite of what it once was. Where I was once emotionally closed off, I am now open and loving toward my family in ways I never was before. Through my healing journey, I immersed myself in learning and applying various self-monitoring techniques to ensure I show up as the best version of myself. After everything I had been through, I felt an undeniable calling to help others on their healing and growth journeys and that’s how Propelled Life Coaching was born.
So, do I only coach those with PTSD? Absolutely not. While I am deeply passionate about helping those with PTSD because of my own experiences, I also coach people from all walks of life facing a variety of challenges. Whether it’s someone feeling stuck in life, seeking real personal growth, or a professional athlete striving to improve their mindset and performance while finding greater fulfillment, my mission is to help and add value to peoples lives.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you have any questions or enquiries, please don’t hesitate to reach out—I’d love to connect and see how I may be able to help.
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20 years young. Still at the Acadamy (mid 2000)

Leaving hospital with our final addition. (July 2020)

My family and my reason why.
