MY STORY

I was born on 17 September 1998 at 7:00 am, weighing 7 pounds 7 ounces, Named Jordan Michael Harniman. I didn’t know it then, but I was born into a story that had started long before me.

I grew up in a family of seven—two older brothers, two older sisters, Mum, Dad and me. We didn’t have much, but we had each other. My mum carried more pain than most people will ever know. Before I was born, she survived unimaginable trauma that no child or woman should ever experience. My dad met her when she already had four children and chose to stay. He stepped into a life that wasn’t easy, and together they did the best they could with what they knew.

Our family moved house five times before I turned three. Drugs, alcohol and broken relationships meant stability was hard to find. Eventually we landed in a Housing Commission house on Marshall Street.

Marshall Street became home.

It was where I grew up, where I learnt life’s hardest lessons, and where the foundations of the person I would become were unknowingly laid.

As a kid, I was always described as rebellious. I challenged authority, pushed boundaries and seemed to find trouble wherever I went. But there was another side to me. I was mature beyond my years, curious, and when someone genuinely believed in me, I grabbed every opportunity with both hands. Looking back, I don’t think I was a bad kid—I think I was trying to make sense of a world that rarely made sense to me.

Growing up around addiction shaped the way I saw life. Watching intravenous drug use in my own environment made me hate drugs. I promised myself I’d never become part of that world.

Life has a funny way of humbling you.

Years later, I found myself becoming the very thing I believed I’d never be. Although I never used needles, addiction still found its way into my life. One decision became another, then another, until I looked around and barely recognised the person staring back at me.

The hardest truth I’ve ever had to face is that, at one point, I nearly lost my life—not because of someone else, but because of the life I’d built for myself.

That wasn’t the end of my story.

It became the beginning.

Recovery wasn’t a single decision. It was thousands of small ones. It was learning accountability instead of excuses. Choosing discipline over comfort. Choosing tomorrow over tonight.

Brick by brick, I started rebuilding.

Today, I’m the proud father of an incredible little boy who reminds me every day why this journey matters. Becoming his dad changed the way I look at the world. It gave me a reason greater than myself.

Life also gave me another gift I never expected.

After my father woke from life support, I had the opportunity to take him in and rebuild a relationship that had once felt impossible. Somewhere along the way I realised something that took me years to understand: my parents weren’t perfect, but they loved me in the only ways they knew how. Forgiveness didn’t erase the past, but it gave me a future.

After eight years in my trade, I made the biggest decision of my life.

I walked away.

Not because it was easy, but because I knew there was something inside me that would never leave me alone if I ignored it.

Music.

Storytelling.

Connection.

Building something that means more than a pay cheque.

Today, I’m building a life centred around creativity, fatherhood and purpose. I’m creating music under the name Harnsy, building a community through content, creating clothing that represents resilience, and working towards a dream that once felt impossible.

People often ask me what The Rebuild means.

It isn’t about pretending the past never happened.

It isn’t about becoming someone new.

It’s about taking everything you’ve lived through—the good, the bad, the mistakes, the victories—and using it to build someone stronger than yesterday.

Every song I release…

Every conversation I have…

Every person I meet…

Every challenge I overcome…

They’re all another brick.

This isn’t a story about surviving.

It’s a story about rebuilding.

And if you’re reading this while trying to rebuild your own life…

Welcome.

You’re in the right place.

— Harnsy