Brene Brown in her book, Daring Greatly expounds upon vulnerability (defined as “uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure.”) and speaks to her research which shows that to our detriment we often “armour up” to avoid feeling particular emotions which feel too big for us in order to “be in control”.

If I’m honest with myself (and anyone who reads this), at the moment I’m using the “numbing out” tactic to avoid my grief about moving. I’m avoiding acknowledging it. It catches me unaware at the worst of times and I need to lean-in, embrace and work through my grief in order to get the most out of this new adventure we’re on and not alienate my family through my suppressed emotions bubbling out.

So here’s me leaning in. I can’t really say I’m a fan of Dr Brown if I don’t follow her advice…  Feel free to read along, and in doing so, I hope my vulnerability will give you courage when you need to be vulnerable in the future.

The Why of Moving

Around February this past year my life was thriving. Hitting A’s on my MBA studies, fulfilled at work, great friends and my amazing home. To be honest, my home was my dream… something I never thought that we’d ever have – an incredible space for the kids to blossom in, a space we could host and share, a place with space, and peace and beauty.

(This next bit I share with my husband’s permission)

My husband, Mr Incredible, however was not thriving. Truth be told he hadn’t thrived since we moved to New Zealand. Despite his incredible work ethic, training and abilities (three degrees including a Masters, speaker of three languages and a great work history) he couldn’t get meaningful work. Amazingly to me, despite how difficult it was for him, he always encouraged and supported me as my career took off and I took on additional study on top of a demanding job.

For two years, all he could get were minimum wage laboring jobs, helping with the elections, or assisting an electrician friend. He did all of this without complaining, but it was soul-destroying. To be so competent and yet unable to even land interviews, let alone jobs, was exceptionally hard for him. Through a great recruiter, he got an IT job, despite it not being his field. He was competent in IT and could perform the job well, but he wasn’t using his full potential. After much deliberation, he decided to go back to his first training, engineering, and pursue a graduate diploma to enhance his initial bachelor’s degree. As I watched from the sidelines, seeing and living his journey, I broached the thought of moving back to Australia, and from there, the discussion gained momentum, picking up other reasons for moving as the months progressed, until it became an unquestionable decision.

We sold the farm within three weeks of putting it on the market (and yes, selling a place you thought you’d have for twenty years and accumulated possessions and hadn’t finished off particular jobs because of such is as hard as it sounds). We settled three weeks after that flew out to Australia the day after we officially handed over. So many things just fell into place. For those, and so much more I am exceedingly thankful.

To sum it all up: instigating the move was mine. Doing so was and is the right thing for my husband, my kids, and as we’re a family, it’s also the right thing for me. I don’t regret the move… but I do regret not appreciating what we had more. Making more time out of work to appreciate it. I admit to a deep ache inside my belly that makes me irritable and prickly.

I have no answers other than to share our journey, for those who read my happier posts to know it’s not all sunshine and beaches and happy families. For those looking to make the move the other way across the ditch I’ll share particulars soon. But I had to share this part first.

A few pictures from the farm
(and yes, we brought Teddy the Golden Retriever across with us along with our two shelter-rescued cats, Buttons and Georgie).