Every journey begins with a humble step

07.05.18

On Friday I leave Melbourne. While this seems like the beginning of my story, this adventure actually started one Christmas Eve, ten years ago. A friend and I were a bit fed up with our lives in Auckland, and we made the milestone decision of moving to Sydney. Two days later we had booked our tickets to fly out on the 15th of February, 2008.

I will never forget this day that has altered the course of my life forever.

We had about $500 between us and no idea where we would stay or what we would do.

Ten days later I landed a job in an office that I didn't even remember applying for. This government department boss had gone through twenty-six other assistants before me and I had no idea what i was doing. I lasted two weeks but was employed elsewhere in the department over the next seven months.

Those months were magical - I became very close with the friends I lived with and we spent most evenings with goon bags and cigarettes. Monday nights were champagne across the road at the local pub and weekends were Oxford Street and day trips to the Blue Mountains. Occasionally I updated my blog, a remnant of more political times, but it had become uncomfortably popular, along with attracting a stalker… and more trolls than I care to count. 

I then applied for a UK visa but left it too late to arrive in time, so I instead headed to Dublin to join a childhood friend.

Goon bags became Guinness and nights with friends changed to reading books and watching Scrubs every evening as I survived the Irish Winter. The two cities were, literally, miles apart.

Dublin carries with it a history of writers, and I channeled their ghosts as I documented Paris, Scotland, the Irish dating scene and its weather.

Christmas Eve was upon me again. The streets were lit up with fairy lights and the nights arrived at 4:30 pm. Christmas markets were on at Temple Bar, no need to refrigerate with the natural fridge (freezer) that Dublin was kind enough to provide. One year later to the day, I was sleeping off a huge night out when I suddenly awoke with the very pressing urge to return to New Zealand.

The following day I booked my flights and as chance would have it, I secured one for the 16th of February 2009, exactly one year and one day after my original departure.

Transitioning into life at home is always difficult after so long in bigger cities. Auckland remained the same, but it wasn't the same for me. It felt smaller.

I didn't find a job for over eight months so I got stuck into University on the degree I had so abruptly left behind. My marks improved, as did my fascination for old white male philosophers and European / US relations. I gave up on studying the law and accepted that politics was my life.

I was lucky enough to have the privilege of attending a Socialist Youth Festival in Hungary that year, all credit to the New Zealand Labour Party. So off I went again in July, this time through Dubai.

I met Jacinda again there and we all knew she was going places, even then. Sooner rather than later she became our Prime Minister by an unprecedented turn of events.

We orchestrated bilateral meetings with Malaysia and South Africa, to name a few. We made connections that appear to be lasting a lifetime, or the last nine years at least.

I remember feeling anxious about where I was going in my life, as I never expected it to be something other than becoming a lawyer. But one afternoon I was filled with an absolute certainty that everything was going to be all right. Giving a welcome in Maori to a crowd of international socialists while they scrambled with their earphone translation settings is one of my fondest memories.

When I am overseas my sense of not just survival but huge faith kicks in, and I often find myself kicking goals that I never dreamed were possible.

Life continued in Auckland and I settled for a while, but I always thought I would come back.

Unfortunately I got stuck in an abusive relationship, which would also change me forever.

Often in life people will tell you that everything happens for a reason; but what they don't tell you is that sometimes those reasons are bad. I would be better off now if it had never happened.

I didn't have enough love for myself or the emotional maturity to leave this guy, but I eventually managed to after about ten attempts. However by then I had dropped out of my postgraduate studies and was made redundant from my job managing the impossible task of a student exchange program at one of our biggest universities, in a mere twenty hours a week.

After I got my payout I went to Thailand with the guy for ten days. On the last day of our trip I was sitting on the floor at Grand Temple in Bangkok. It occurred to me that now was a time to pray. But before I uttered a single word in my head, the answer was there. The moment my forehead touched the marble to pay my obeisance, I was filled with the most incredible joy I have ever experienced. Words aren’t enough to describe what I felt but if there was a word, that word was Yes. When times are tough I think back to the impossible faith that existed in my heart for a few minutes. Whatever it was, it gives me hope. 

Post break up I learned that if your insides don't match your outsides, the insides find a way of manifesting themselves into a waking nightmare. That was my life, as I not only struggled to achieve anything – I could barely get out of bed.

I have been incredibly blessed in my life as the big man (or woman) above always gives me the right people at the right times.

We have this saying in New Zealand: 'He tangata, he tangata, he tangata.' 'It is people, it is people, it is people.'

It is people. With their help and generosity I eventually managed to pull myself out, but it didn’t happen overnight.

Nine months after the final break up, travel was on the cards again. I purchased a ticket to Melbourne and gave in my notice at the local council, where I had found a job the day after i was made redundant by the previous one.

My journey continued, and on a whim I delayed my departure for Melbourne for six weeks so that I could go fruit picking in the Far North of New Zealand. I needed to get away for a while, be with nature and get my sleeping patterns back on track. I was 25 years old and surrounded by not one, but five French guys. We picked avocados and then planted sweetcorn when the work dried up. In between harvesting, I hitch-hiked, went on adventures to hot springs, saw old friends, and traveled to the top of New Zealand and to Waitangi, where our treaty was signed. Summer was coming and it was coming for me.

When I finally arrived in Melbourne I found work within six days, at a place where I still work today.

Staying in one place, paradoxically, allowed me to move. I now have a career in project management, sit on the Board of a charity and have hundreds of martial arts moves up my sleeve. I learned about this little thing called resilience, and I finally grew up. I’ve been meaning to write for years but the words never came. Judging by this post, too many of them are coming now.

But bear with me. This part of my story will be where all the magic happens.