Sam’s journey from trauma to trust

June 25, 2026

When Living Skills Worker Angela first met Sam, she was nervous.

“I’d read his file – 24 placements, a history of serious trauma. I remember thinking, ‘What if he hates me? What if he doesn’t understand my accent? What if he never opens the door?’” Angela says.

Sam was 18 at the time, living with PTSD, high anxiety and depression. After spending most of his childhood in foster care and Intensive Therapeutic Care (ITC), he was accepted into CatholicCare’s Therapeutic Supported Independent Living (TSIL) program, which supports young people transitioning to independent adulthood. Sam was deeply distrustful, overwhelmed by the world, and utterly closed off to those trying to help him.

“He used to swear all the time,” Angela says. “He didn’t trust anyone and to him, the world was dangerous. He had to be on guard constantly.”

Angela and her team saw the trauma beneath Sam’s behaviour. Removed from his family at a young age, Sam had been in dozens of placements, many of which had further harmed rather than helped him. “He was abused by people he should have been able to trust,” Angela shares. “It’s no wonder he couldn’t trust us. He thought that the only reason we did anything for him was because we were paid.”

The beginning was tough. “There were days I cried. Days I didn’t know what to do,” Angela admits. “Sometimes he wouldn’t open the door. Sometimes he’d tell me to leave. But I came back. Every time.”

Angela started small – grocery shopping, offering company, sitting outside his door. Slowly, Sam began to open up.

“One day, he just started talking,” she remembers. “He cried and told me about his dad. He said, ‘Why did that happen to me? Why did my dad do that?’ And in that moment, it wasn’t about programs or therapy. It was about being human and showing him someone really cared.”

Eventually, their bond grew strong enough that Sam began looking forward to her visits. “He’d be outside waiting for me, saying ‘You’re late!’ That was huge. He was outside. He was waiting for someone.”

Over time, Sam began imagining a future – something he had previously refused to do. “When I asked him early on, ‘What do you want to do with your life?’ he’d shut down and say, ‘Don’t ask me that. I don’t want to think about the future.'”

But now, at 20, Sam plans to finish Year 12 through TAFE and is considering a future in the army. “He’s planning,” Angela says, smiling. “He’s asking about documents he needs. He’s thinking ahead. It’s incredible.”

For someone whose entire life had been survival-focused, his ability to imagine a future for himself is huge. 

“He even takes daily showers now,” Angela adds. “That sounds small, but he used to avoid looking in the mirror. Now he says he can look at himself and not hate what he sees.”

Though Sam has since moved to an Individualised Living Option (ILO) where he is supported through the NDIS, Angela still sees him every few weeks.

“He still says he’s the same person,” she laughs. “But he’s not. He’s calmer, more respectful. He makes jokes, sometimes still shows me the finger – but in a funny way, not angry. He’s learning how to feel safe with people.”

Angela credits the support of her CatholicCare team for making it through the harder times. “There were moments I was stuck, unsure, exhausted. We talked a lot as a team – should I go in, should I stay outside, how far do I push? You need that when you’re doing this work. None of us could do it alone. Reflecting on her journey with Sam, Angela says the biggest lesson she’s learned is about the power of presence and love.

“These kids – they know,” she says. “They can feel when you really care. You don’t need to say it. They know. Sam used to say about other workers, ‘She’s just pretending.’ But with me, he said, ‘I know how you feel. I know you care.’”

Angela gets emotional talking about Sam’s transformation. “He says the thing he’s most proud of is just being alive. That breaks your heart and lifts it at the same time. It’s not the kind of success that gets headlines – he’s not at university or in full-time work – but it’s success. He’s starting to believe he’s worth something. He’s got dreams. He’s choosing life. And that, to me, is everything.”