Looking Back – The Road to New Zealand

‘Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game.’ – Babe Ruth.

As children, we are encouraged to pursue our dreams, however
unrealistic they may be at the time.

   “I want to be an astronaut.”

   “I want to be a superhero.”

   And our parents reply is “Go
for it, you can do anything, aim for the stars, you’ll succeed in whatever you endeavor
to do.”

It’s the nice thing about childhood, a mixture of heady dreams and
aspirations, coupled with our own innocence and our parents firm belief that
their child can achieve anything they want and more.

As we get older, our innocence fades, which is only natural, and we
come to realise that we probably can’t do everything
we thought we could do as a child. Anyone that does achieve everything they
dreamed of doing as a child is, in my opinion, amazing but I’m guessing they
are in the smallest minority of people in the world.

As our aims and objectives for life become more realistic, let’s say,
they probably also become more achievable. We break them down into manageable
chunks and move forwards with an ending in sight, something tangible that we
can attain and feel pleased and proud of ourselves that we’ve reached our goal.
Working for a degree, getting a great job, maybe settling down and getting
married, travelling the world… Everyone has different goals and aspirations and
we are all working towards them slowly, quietly, in our own way.

But what happens if you get stuck in a rut and lose sight of where you
wanted to be heading? Or you hit a wall that you can’t climb over? I think that
is what happened to me, around this time last year, and it turned me into an
absolute misery.

I suppose I’d been kind of drifting along for a while. I was working
in a job that I didn’t dislike, but I also didn’t love it. There weren’t really
any good career prospects within the organisation. I liked the waste industry
but not necessarily the environment within which I worked. I felt a bit jaded
and I didn’t really have any clue where I was headed, or even where I wanted to
be going next. I had some great opportunities in my job, such as project
management training, and I learnt a hell of a lot, but after two years, I was
getting close to having had enough.

It was reflecting on my personal life too. I became withdrawn and
extremely grumpy, especially with my close friends, which I regret to this day,
and am sorry for. Just because my work life wasn’t so great did not mean I
should have closed down and turned on them. I suppose that’s just how I dealt
with it – by ignoring the obvious (I was stuck in the proverbial rut and had
hit the proverbial wall), I thought it might just go away.

I was frightened by change, despite my obvious unhappiness in my
situation, and so I halfheartedly looked for jobs elsewhere, without much
success. I guess they could tell my heart wasn’t really in it. I felt lost. On
the one hand, I was happy with my friends, my family, and I liked the community
I lived in. On the other, I didn’t want to get out of bed in the morning to go
to work, I was bored out of my mind and I felt trapped.

It reached a head for me during a brief trip to Cornwall in June 2014
for my cousin’s wedding. I felt irritable and stressed all day, and although I
enjoyed the wedding and my cousin’s and relatives obvious happiness, I myself
didn’t really get into the spirit of things. I had just come back from Morocco
and loved every minute of it, and it was so nice to get out of Wales and see
some of the UK I’d never seen before. In the car on the way to Cornwall, my
sister extolled the virtues of travel to me – she was living in Spain and loved
practically every minute of it. I was frustrated that I hadn’t even been
offered any interviews for the jobs I’d applied for, my contract with the council
was running out in three months and I had literally no plan whatsoever. I felt pretty
shit, to be honest, a bit worthless, pissed off with life in general and like I
had nothing whatsoever going for me anymore, really.

Back in work the following week, and with that cloud still hanging
over me, I Googled Canadian working holiday visas, almost on a whim, during a
lunch break in work. The quota for 2014 had expired, another potential avenue
shut down to me (or that’s how it felt, anyway). But before I could log off, my
friend walked past, saw what I was looking at and said something along the
lines of:

   “My friend / cousin (I forget
which) is in New Zealand at the moment on a working holiday. It looks amazing
out there!”

I’ve mentioned all this next bit before, but the rest, as they say, is
history. Within two or three days, I’d paid for and received my WHV for New
Zealand. A few days after that, I’d booked my one-way flight. I was leaving in
October. I finally had something meaningful back in my life, something to plan
and prepare for, something to look forward to. I had smashed through the wall
that I’d hit and decided to take a leap of faith and do the most challenging
thing possible to get me out of my rut and back out there, enjoying my life
again.

It definitely wasn’t easy leaving, despite everything. Everything I’d
known for three or so years was in Wales – my friends, family, my home. But I
know now, looking back, that if there’s one thing I could have regretted in my
life, it would have been not coming to New Zealand when I thought of it. It has
taken coming to New Zealand to remind me of all my worth, all my potential, of
the things I could and want to achieve. I have goals and aspirations again, a
direction I want to take. It’s almost as though I’ve got some of my childhood
innocence back – I can do anything I want to do and I’ll work hard and I’ll
make it happen. Nothing is unattainable, or too unrealistic.

I hope this new found confidence in myself remains, or if it fades
anytime, I can remind myself of what I’ve achieved in the past and it will come
flooding back. I hope that people who may not have understood my drastic
decision at the time (although they all supported me 100% anyway – legends!)
might read this and feel they understand me and my decision a bit better now.

I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again – if anyone has a chance to
do something that deep down they really want to do, but they feel nervous or
scared by it, just go for it anyway! Pushing yourself out of your comfort zone
is supposed to be scary and huge and nerve wracking. I’m pretty sure it will
also be wonderful and exciting too.

PS – I felt quite nervous posting this blog – it feels a lot more
personal than normal and as if I’ve put myself on the line a bit. But I hope
you like reading it – I wanted to write it so that people could understand the
emotions that I had before New Zealand, why I felt I had very few other choices
and why that choice to come is definitely one of the best I ever made.