A green forces helmet and a black mortar board

Facing up to identity issues

Author: | 27 May 2025

Scholar Isaac Rasmussen is proud to have been a Royal Marine. But what happens when you’re not anymore? He reflects on belonging, loss and forging a new identity.

In my first blog for The Longford Trust, I touched on identity. I mentioned how identity was a major factor in how difficult I found transitioning from military to civilian life, which subsequently contributed to me falling foul of the law. I posted about that blog on social media and it sparked some interesting conversation between my friends and former Royal Marine colleagues.

I am proud to be able to call myself a Bootneck (Royal Marine) but I do not think of myself as the most ‘corps pissed’ as we would describe a person whose blood runs with the corps pattern colours, (blue, yellow, green and red, if you are interested). Nevertheless, once I had left the corps, the contrast of military and civilian worlds set in, and I suddenly find myself in a crisis of identity. With hindsight, I should have seen it coming but, as I was leaving the Royal Marines with a particularly bad taste in my mouth, why would I be bothered about an identity I no longer ‘cared’ for?

Identity crisis

Being in the military is a defining identity. The Royal Marines provided me with the opportunity to sink my teeth into something that would scratch an innate need to test myself, take risks. I would say lean into it, if you must. Walk it, talk it, breathe it, but keep something for yourself, something defining outside of the world you have become one with. Be proud but be prepared to move on. Find a replacement for the itch. It doesn’t have to be like for like: risk is risk, the stakes don’t have to always to be as high, or dangerous.

Veterans give a chunk of their lives to their country, sometimes most of their adult lives. When you leave, the wages stop but the brotherhood that you have become part of also fades. Not because it is not strong, more that it is just not practical to keep up that level of camaraderie after you leave. When the noise falls away and the basic responsibilities of life begin, you are left with less like-minded people to rely upon, and a level of pride that will not allow you to ask for help.

Taking on a new identity

I struggled, and I’m not the only one. Many veterans have been left, it seems, with PTSD, a high suicide rate, alcoholism and growing numbers within the prison system.  Yes, it’s about money, finding work but it’s also about identity. Becoming a career criminal could become your identity.

So who am I now? I’m a student, doing a degree, with ambition, a new story to tell. I often feel out of place in my new town, with new goals and new environments. However, academia and the world of journalism and media have welcomed me and my experiences with open arms – constantly pushing against all my doubts and reminding me that my differences, my experiences, in many ways, give me an upper hand.

Filling the void

The thrill now is in meeting deadlines at university, achieving a goal at work, making friends, public speaking, and exploring my country. This is what I intend to focus on, to fill the void after leaving life in the military, to help myself guard against making damaging decisions.

The challenges I have faced since leaving prison have been difficult – and why should they not be?  Success is born and bred in facing difficulties and finding the right direction on the compass of life. It is where those like me, with fire in their belly, find ourselves and our identity.

Read Isaac’s previous blog.

Hindsight is a wonderful thing

Author: | 7 May 2024

As he nears release, our Longford scholar Isaac Rasmussen is reflecting on the past decisions that led him from Royal Marine to prisoner. He describes how going to university is the first step on what he plans will be a career in journalism

As a serving prisoner I have done my fair share of fixating on one point in my life and asking myself where did it all go wrong? And, if I could change or take back that decision, would everything would be different. For me, the decision in question was to leave the Royal Marines.

In itself, it might not have been fatal. The problem was that no preparation was put in place to secure a seamless transition into civilian life. I fell back on the old Bootneck (Royal Marine) mantra “no cuff too tuff’’, meaning we’re always up for taking on the biggest challenges. We improvise, adapt and overcome – and approach it all with a sense of humour.

It was not long before it became apparent that this cuff was a little tougher than usual. I bounced from pointless job to no job to pointless job again. I moved up north as it had more affordable housing, and I still had friends there from the Corps (Royal Marines). But nothing filled the void the Corps had left. It was not long before I was ready to fill that gap with whatever would give me any kind of purpose and excitement, something that could happen to anyone in these circumstances, although some might be more vulnerable than others.

Preparation, preparation, preparation

I now realise, regardless of whether I decided to leave the Royal Marines or not, that if I had altered my mindset towards even the loosest of plans, I probably would not have found myself in trouble (within reason). Structure and focus in any positive direction would have prevented me from having a knee-jerk reaction to events and situations that life threw at me.  The military phrase I should have been focusing on is, “fail to prepare, prepare to fail”. It suits long-term goals infinitely better than “no cuff too tuff” which only works with short-term goals needing swift action.

I am learning, with the help of family, friends and now the Longford Trust, to balance taking risks with preparing properly.  Knowing that I will have a constant in Longford Trust from my first day of university to my release from prison and on to my first job and beyond helps to keep me grounded and concentrate on preparing for every eventuality. Through my mentor, or by engaging in the workshops and events, I can see that the Longford Trust understands where I have come from. It is a non-judgmental group of people I can count on for advice in a world that still does not quite understand the prisoner and the issues they face.

Turning Point

I now accept the decision to leave the Royal Marines had nothing to do with my subsequent failures and bad decisions. It is about how I went about things going forward. The real moral of my story is to not fixate on that single moment when you think it all went wrong. It is more likely that a pattern of events, fuelled by a pattern of behaviour, is what truly led to the negativity in your life. And the beauty of that truth is that it takes exactly same mechanism to improve things.

That means to improve your behaviour gradually over time, in regard of small events, and eventually you will see a change in your life for the better. The success can still feel as if it all happened by chance, but, if my experience is anything to go by, it didn’t. You effect the change habitually and you reap the rewards.

Education

Education is all around us. There is no such thing as useless knowledge. However, academia was never my strong suit. I always struggled in school. It was not because I didn’t understand what was being taught. I just did not really get on with the school system and so ultimately did not thrive.

Joining the Royal Marines meant that no more academia, for a while at least. But, of course, there were still things to be learnt at great pace and under great physical and mental pressure. I suffered, struggled, improved and struggled some more until I found a groove. The suffering never ended, it was me who got used to it. I even found a way to enjoy it. I have hung on to these tools.

I chose to study media, journalism and publishing because of my interest in becoming a journalist. During my time at my previous category C prison, I had ideas on studying history, but as time went on, I swayed more into the direction of studying journalism. From a logical point of view journalism offers more opportunities and different job types. Especially, with a course like the one I am on at Oxford Brookes University where journalism is grouped alongside media and publishing.  When I leave prison, that will help with as seamless a transition as possible into the job market doing something that will challenge me and keep me engaged. That is crucial to my rehabilitation.

On a personal level, I always dreamt from early childhood of somehow leaving my mark on the world. I didn’t know how, and to this day still don’t. Becoming a journalist is my way finally of finding the answer. So, here I am embarking on yet another journey in to the unknown. Studying will be a struggle, but no matter how hard it gets I know I have been here before and I am supported and equipped to get there in the end.

If you are a past or present scholar, or one of our mentors, and have a blog you want to contribute, contact Clare Lewis.