I was the black sheep in my family. Everyone else seemed to be doing well - my siblings were thriving in school or sixth form, my friends all had plans, goals, structure. Meanwhile, I was doing nothing. My routine was simple: wake up, turn on my PC and play games all day. It was the one place I felt in control - a world where nothing was expected of me, and losing didn't feel real. 

Before things reached that point, I’d already spent years moving between secondary school but I never saw it as a big deal. Each new place felt like a fresh start, a chance to finally "get it right." But it always ended the same way. I thought I was the main character, that life revolved around me and things would just work out because they had to. Looking back, I realise I wasn't confident - I was lost.

My teachers would describe me as intelligent but silly, capable but disrespectful. At the time, I enjoyed the attention - it made me feel seen. But deep down, I knew I was more of an attachment than a friend. I was around people, but not really with them.

At home, my parents didn't understand me. They disciplined me often, and I remember being told that "the devil was using me." It sounds harsh now, but they were trying to make sense of what they couldn't see. I always knew I was different. I just didn't know why.

The hardest part of having undiagnosed ADHD was being punished for things I couldn't control. My impulses would take over - I'd say something I shouldn't, or do something without thinking - and only later that night, lying in bed, I'd replay it all in my head. I'd feel the weight of it, knowing I'd disappointed people again but not knowing how to stop the cycle.

My mum never gave up. She sacrificed so much - taking time off work whenever I was suspended, even risking losing the house to put me into a private school, believing it might save me. It didn't. I remember standing in the corridor of my science classroom, getting sent out of class for the second time that lesson, and realising nothing had changed. Different uniform, same problems.

Things started to shift in my fourth secondary school. One of my teachers, Ms Armstrong, noticed something in my behaviour that others hadn't. After appointments and assessments, I was diagnosed with ADHD. For the first time, things made sense. There was relief - I wasn't broken or possessed - but also hopelessness. I thought I was just destined to be the impulsive, restless kid who never quite fit in.

Suspensions became part of my identity. Getting permanently excluded felt like my life had been paused whilst everyone else kept moving. But my mum never gave up. I found myself at a pupil referral unit, and it was there, during my GCSE years and through lockdown, that things began to turn. My teachers saw potential, not just problems. Ms Armstrong reappeared - she had joined the PRU and helped guide me again. With their support, I achieved 7s in English and Maths. It wasn't top-tier, but it was mine - the first real proof that I could change my story.

After GCSEs, I drifted again. My mum told me I was hands-on and that one day I'd be an engineer. Those words stuck. I enrolled at UPS College for a Level 2 Engineering course, but the commute was long and my attendance slipped. Eventually, I dropped out. I slipped back into gaming, day and night. My friends were moving forward - university, apprenticeships, jobs - and I was stuck.

I remember lying awake one night realising that no one was coming to save me. If I wanted my life to change, I had to take control. I had to rewrite my script.

So I decided to try. I deleted all my social media, quit gaming completely, fixed my sleep schedule, and started rebuilding my discipline from scratch. I reconnected with a friend from the PRU who had started an apprenticeship. He told me to apply where he was working. I followed his advice and got the job.

That apprenticeship became my first real step into adulthood, but the environment became toxic. When my friend left, I was eventually dismissed - but strangely, I felt free. Being fired felt like a reset. I applied for new opportunities, faced rejection after rejection. But eventually, I was offered an apprenticeship at The Leigh UTC in Kent as an engineering technician.

That was my fresh start. I threw myself into learning. I started going to the gym before work, cycling everywhere, focusing on discipline and growth. I learned how to carry myself professionally, how to be accountable. It was there that I developed a passion for engineering and aspired to become a mechanical engineer.

During the summer holidays, I began reaching out for work experience in industry. One of the teachers gave me a contact for Alcatel Submarine Networks - a global engineering company that has been around for over 150 years. I arranged a two-week placement. At the end of those two weeks, they offered me the opportunity to join them as an Apprentice Production Mechanical Engineer.

I remember going back to the Leigh UTC and sitting down with the head of post-16, someone I could confide in. I opened up about this opportunity as I was nervous and unsure if I was ready. She asked me questions that made me reflect and think deeply. I took the offer - and it's been one of the best decisions I've ever made.

When I joined Alcatel Submarine Networks, I also founded Rewrite the Script. It wasn't planned; it just felt necessary. My journey had shown me how many young people were quietly fighting the same battles I once did - feeling misunderstood, lost, or written off before they'd even had a chance to prove themselves. I didn't want to just move on from that. I wanted to use it. My story is proof that one difficult chapter doesn't have to define the rest of the book.

Looking back, it's hard to believe how far I've come. From being labelled a "problem child" to becoming an apprentice mechanical engineer at one of the most respected engineering companies in the world - my journey hasn't been easy, but every chapter mattered. The mistakes, the exclusions, the failures - they were all part of my story. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that no situation is permanent. Change doesn't come from waiting for opportunities; it comes from building yourself until you're ready for them.

If you're reading this and feel like you've fallen behind - trust me, I've been there. You're not too late, and you're not too far gone. The version of yourself you're becoming is being written by the choices you make today. Take responsibility for your story, no matter how messy it feels. 

One chapter can change your story - but only if you pick up the pen.

Samuel Inyaba

Apprentice Production Mechanical Engineer

You can find out more and connect with Samuel on LinkedIn.