Today marks my one year anniversary of arriving in Australia. In that time, I have found jobs, made friends, and more. I have tried and dropped various hobbies, rediscovered old ones, organised and let groups go. I cursed the time zone differences, travelled back and forth to New Zealand twice, and have spent more time in Airports than is healthy.
It’s been a busy year. I know that more than a few people wondered what happened to me. I already knew that I was terrible at keeping up with people, worse when they didn’t live in the same city as me, as it turns out, more still when the distance and time zone differences add up.
So was it a good idea? Was uprooting my entire life, and jetting to a city with no job, no place to live, and no support network to fall back on a good idea?
Part of wishes I had done this sooner. Part of me also knows that I didn’t believe in myself enough to do so.
I am not the same person I was a year ago. I’ve forced myself to do things that scare me. To walk into a room of people I don’t know and make friends, to make plans that will probably fail and try anyway, and to actually get into my bed and go to sleep when I know there’s a medium size unidentified Australian spider under it somewhere.
I knew I’d made a breakthrough in my own personal confidence and determination (some would say stubbornness) when I managed to finish a three pitch outdoor climb while suffering from drug-induced* anxiety and vertigo.
I figure if I can do that, I can do anything.
* Promethazine, aka. Phenergan. Ironically, for most people it can be used to treat these ailments, and help with insomnia. In my case, it apparently makes them worse and keeps me up until 3am.