This is the thought that came into my mind, late one night on a hard week of missing my former home. 

These existential questions and residual bouts of nostalgia might be emblematic of something. Is it the five-month mark since departing from Sydney? Was it the uncharacteristically touching few words from my old housemate Rupert on our recent phone catch-up? Maybe these feelings have been amplified by the dermatology appointment I had this week (causing me to reminisce scarier moments of diagnosis Down Under), or my encroaching 32nd birthday. 

It most definitely could have been the letter from AU immigration, which arrived in my inbox Monday morning. My visa has been cancelled - due to my lack of employment in Australia - and while months have gone by, it reminded me that the chapter on Oz is finally and officially closed. Closed forever? Not necessarily! But this symbol, in a time of limited travel and pandemic constraints, made me yearn for access to the door into Sydney simply because it's locked -- for now. 

Over the past three years of living abroad, I spent a lot of time reflecting on what made me feel at home while living halfway around the world. That self-awareness is helping me now as I attempt to cultivate the life I wanted to create upon moving back to Cali. As an avid loyalist to my journal and nerdy goal-setter since childhood, I have determined eight areas that I want to cultivate in particular. I think they'll help me feel intentional, cozy, comfortable in my own skin, and supported along the way.

2. My home! I have looked forward to this milestone of living on my own for a while now. It's finally here - I'm in my own apartment! With the help of my sisters, parents and bro-in-law, I am nearly set up for the coziest homey space of "hygge" ever. I can rest, exercise, lounge, or host. I can bake, blend, create and even sit outside! Finally, I have countless blankets, candles and essential oils that will help me quite literally infuse Sydney into my home. ​​

3. My community - both old and new. I could not be more grateful to be minutes from the Welsh fam. Weekly dinner with the Brocks or routine backyard catchups have been the soul-fuel for my transition back home. While I am back in my home county and surrounded by friends from childhood and USC, it's been hard to reconnect with as many as I'd like during a pandemic. Luckily, I have Zoom trivia and Jackbox TV game nights lined up with my closest friends so I can stay in touch with them from around the world. 

4. My creativity. Something I've been missing is the hobby of embracing my tactile, analog creativity! Especially after long days of virtual collaboration and screen-time, I long to leverage my creative juices in the evenings. I can do this by way of crafting or puzzling. I've even started sorting my Sydney prints for a scrapbook-gallery wall, and assembling a photo collage on my fridge was a simple pleasure. My friend Sue sent me a jewelry-making mandala kit - which fittingly fits into multiple goals like my wellness and this one! 
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Something I've been thinking about writing for WEEKS is the list of things that people never tell you. Who are "people," you may be asking yourself? The proverbial "they" -- the wiser and all knowing elders, the fellow expats, your friends who did something similar to you and perhaps moved abroad, built a life and moved home to their country of origin in order to be closer to [insert here: family, their calling, aging parents, better resources].

They don't tell you how bittersweet and weird it will feel moving back to the place you used to call home, yet so long ago. They don't tell you that your heart might feel split in two - divided by a chasm only x-thousand miles wide (and an ocean deep). They don't talk about the little things - seemingly mundane and too insignificant to possibly constitute "reverse culture shock." Am I petty for missing my coffee shop? My mattress? The Sydney coastal breeze?

I arrived on a sunny September morning after 15 hours in flight, twenty hours of travel combined. I walked through immigration at San Francisco International, reminiscent of many a work trip and morning spent looking for coffee through the fog of "the Mondays." I felt different this time, and yet immediately felt a piece of me so consumed by déjà vu that I was the same - transported back to age 25. I walked past the familiar terminals, acronyms and hanging symbol of red white and blue, realizing that I was back on home soil for the indefinite time being. It wasn't just a visit. I was moving "home" - but what did home mean, anyway?

My first weeks back as a SoCal resident have been smooth, familiar and yet sticky in the most unexpected places - like an old and comfy sweater discovered stuffed in the back of your closet or uncovered from under the bed after years, covered in dust bunnies. I drove on autopilot from the rental car hub up the 405-N, remembering college days and weekend drives to see my not-boyfriend in my early-twenties years. I connected to Bluetooth and called B, instantly grateful for the literal LUXURIES i hadn't had living in a hip metropolis for the past six years. Bluetooth and CarPlay? Starbucks drive-throughs? Don't mind if I do, I thought guiltlessly.

This year had been about choosing ease, after all.

I reflect constantly that there are parts and costs of traveling that people never tell you; they don't post them on Instagram or shout them from a giant-tree swing on their youtube travel vlogs. Traveling. home. is. HARD. Traveling period is taxing on the body, the soul, friendships, routine, our health, sometimes family, and unavoidably-- our wallets. But traveling home after time away is something that I have yet to read much about, and I want to know more.

Why did I hesitate? Am I too old? Is it too late? Will my family ever forgive me? I’ll never forget a local teammate at the time and future friend telling me that she had recently secured a new role in London. In response to my outward wondering of whether it was “too late to pull it off,” she said that “it’s never too late to pull it off if I’m 31 and pulling it off now.” Little did I know then that my boss Donna’s scenario also wouldn’t be the case. I’d have at least three roles ahead of me once I embraced the desired future I could no longer deny. That day, Abroad Down Under was born -- if only to be cultivated a significant number of months later.

The going wasn’t always easy, and I hadn’t even moved away from home yet. Once I decided that I was finally ready to, I started to experience a preview of the pains that come with leaving your home and everyone you know and love. I applied for a role in Asia’s glittering headquarters, Singapore. I was rejected for inadequate cultural experience with the intended market I’d serve. I told my current beau that this was something I had always wanted. He rejected my hopes of making it work and maximizing the time we had left together. I began to tell my friends and family that this was the aim, by the halfway point of what was now my 29th year. Some of those same friends asked why I’d want to venture so far away. Didn’t I like my friends, or love my life back home enough?

The implied notions – that I didn’t love home, wanted to be far from family or wasn’t enough of a cultural chameleon to thrive abroad anyway – led to inevitable self-doubt. There were months of wondering and conversing ahead of me. I faltered in confidence at times, but I also refused to falter when it came to having calls, reaching out to colleagues whose names I had heard and asking questions incessantly.

I am forever indebted to the friends and strangers who had “coffee talks” with me, even at my most clueless of times: Claire, Neil, Audra and Jonathan. Next, there were friends who I had recently met at a culture convention of sorts within our company: they were four new work-friends who hailed from Australia, and the perfect acquaintances to surge my aspirations and spark a fire in my search. To Millie, Kat, Chris and Mary: I couldn’t have done it without you!  Finally, I began interviewing for what seemed to be the perfect role Down Under: a job within my company and function that I was thriving in, amidst a slightly different business but related industry and newly growing team, into which I’d be eligible to transfer at my current level and into a young organization smaller than my own.

The more I type the words “little did I know,” the more I realize how little I knew about the pain that was ahead of me. There were countless heart aches, personal losses and days of uncertainty yet to come. At the same time, the road to the sunburnt country was also joyous and encouraging. I interviewed with two gentlemen – kind souls who pushed me and might have become adopted “dad” figures in Sydney – and the female mentor who would lead my soon-to-be greater team. I conversed with my god-sent recruiter named Millie, took my first stab at negotiating, and learned an endless amount by simply listening and verifying what I understood. The day I verbally agreed to come Down Under, I sat in a transparent glass-walled conference room on that same fateful Level 15 and felt – for the first and DEFINITELY not the last time – the bittersweet loneliness worthy of those on the path less traveled. Seconds later, I texted my best friend in the world since kindergarten, Chelsea - who had thankfully become a Work-BFF in the preceding year and worked in the same office that I did circa 2017. She immediately came to meet me, and held me as I sobbed with the realization of this thing I was manifesting – as well as the distance I’d be creating between me, and her, and home.

xo,The following months were a blur and a joy as well. I began selling my things and coordinating with my two roommates. I planned farewell festivities, took road trips across and down my home state of California and soaked up every inch I could have of San Francisco. Highlights stand out in my memories, of the small moments: laying in the grass outside my favorite city landmark, the Palace of Fine Arts with my more recent BFF Stephanie, her reading my tarot cards; sharing açaí bowls and body scrubs at a Korean spa alongside my three closest gals, both times cleansing the heart and soul of my SF-self in preparation for a new chapter. I relished in the glory of this city by the bay right as soon as I was getting ready to leave it. I went back to the aforementioned beau and gave in to the romantic bliss of knowing – or not knowing, rather – the expansive and distant future that was now ahead of us. I drove my cat and my things to Southern California, Mom there for moral support in the front passenger seat. I recall laying grasswards, watching fireworks in the final patriotic display I might witness as a CA resident for the next several years. July 4th fell a mere few weeks before I left the Mainland and country, and - surrounded by three women from different phases of my life spanning sisterhood, childhood basketball teams and later-in-life work friends-turned-soul sisters – I finally began to realize the implications of moving 6,000 miles across the ocean… including the moments, traditions, milestones and company that I’d miss.

There were constantly moments like the aforementioned one which simultaneously broke my heart and got me through at the same time. They began right then: one of those friends above gifted me a beautiful necklace containing the coordinates of home – asking me to be at her side during her wedding, regardless of where we were in the world! My sisters and Mom met me in a Hawaii for a well-earned stopover on my route to Sydney; there, they gifted me one of my most prized possessions still today: a simple, home-constructed memory box filled with notes from over forty of my other family members of friends to get me through the expat days ahead as a Broad Down Under. Finally, my beloved and pen-pal-extraordinaire Gramz not only wrote constantly but took my FaceTime call as I sat in the window seat aboard Delta flight XXX to SYD, August 4th 2017. She told me that although she’d miss me, she was also proud of me because going abroad would make me a better broad.

That was the day that not only my dream began coming to life; I see now that the woman I would become and the pages to follow were coming to life as well.

As I embark on a new writing journey of reflecting back on my time in Oz, I ask myself: Do I want to live hours of each day reliving my time and months in Australia? In part, I do. I've always wanted to write, not only to savor and taste life twice but in the off chance that I'll inspire one person to write too, or go abroad, or move away from home, or try something they might not have tried otherwise. Moreover, November marks National Novel Writing Month in the USA... and we know we'll measure our life by the risks we took and the absence of shots we didn't take! 

So to the past three years abroad Down Under that were to come… here's to relishing and celebrating them!
 
Xoxo,
Abroad Back Home  ​

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Where to begin with what I miss about you most? The photos featured Maybe and Silly Tart and Jacoby's in Newtown. There were the work gals, the book club gals, the epic jumping photo next to your STAR - The Opera House. I woke today thinking of more things that I miss: including but not limited to Canopy on the Park, spontaneous run-ins in Paddington, mixed berry muffins with Jenna and long walks through Surry with Simran. I miss Paramount Coffee Project and PRC upstairs, not just for our final moments together but for what it WAS when I went to daily six AM yoga, had coffee there, and generally ordered almond flat whites wherever I could get my hands on one -- all before COVID times. I miss Humming Puppy; I miss the pad see ew from Chin Chin. More than any single place I miss your resident bachelor and Peter-Pan for life: Rupert. I miss his couch and his presence. 

Finally, I miss my days: waking to the glowing line where the sky and north of Sydney met the sea. Reading in bed after meditating to the city street sounds. Wandering down for a flat white in my freshly showered wet hair, donning my purple Disneyland shirt or Kindness is Cool jumper (it was winter when I left, wasn't it?!). Next, I'd work a bit; then, I'd walk again or escape through Hyde Park to the Botanic Gardens for that daily view of TOH. I'd cook Marley Spoon or sneak Macchiato wraps with haloumi for lunch; I'd stop at Coles for bakery cookies or more almond milk and fruit for smoothies. Finally, I'd chat with Rupert and crawl onto our couch with the blue and gray blankets. Though I know time will fade them, I don't want to lose these memories. 

What do you miss most about me? Can't wait to hear from you. 
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Xo
Abroad Back Home 

Later, I indulged and upgraded from the occasional spray tan to UV beds in the University Village. I liked the solitude, the meditative nature of these beauty caves and I'd sit for six minutes, soon lying for seven or eight. Wasn't I knowingly frying my skin? I most definitely was, but I thought I could get away with it.

I was invincible -- basking in the seasonal glow of sunshine and warmth and the positive hormones that permeate our bodies when sparked by Vitamin D. I had magical day after day in that sunshine, teenage romance pulsing through my sun-kissed limbs as a fifteen year old picnicking with Adam, my first boyfriend, at that park behind Amgen in NP. Later, I'd lie in the grass outside Golden Gate Park or at Dolores in SF, twisting daisies into flower crowns. Was that my mid-twenties or was that at Manzanita? Either way, her loyal beams of light made my skin glow, lit up our selfies, made us brave and led Matt-something to roll over in that grass a la Pocahontas and kiss me like we were in a romantic comedy. Wasn't it the sun to blame then?

​In my third week in Europe and fifth week traveling the globe, I realized that this exact "sun" was the perfect symbol to embody how I was feeling about life and my inner workings, not to mention my calling: I wanted to light up every room I entered, like she does. I felt enlightened. I felt that on this trip, that light had been shed on my soul and on my potential, on the common nature of the world and of humankind no matter the country, city, park or streets we wandered. I doodled said "sun" on business cards and Metro maps, finally perusing a parlor in Prague where the uncannily perfect sun appeared to me.

​It had six rays and six mini-sun beams, perfect to represent the six cities I'd travel through by end of summer 2009. I was still headed to Italy (five) and had a week of freedom in Madrid -- that'd make six! So I did it: Emily B (now married with a new name and still a beaming ray of sunshine from what I see in pictures) held my hand while Sabrina, mentor and early boss who ultimately changed my trajectory around the sun for the better, stood at my shoulder. She taught me that my body is my canvas. Insert my first-ever tattoo here; July 2009.

En route back to Sydney this weekend - having just completed my fifth and final trip to Singapore -- I am more conscious than EVER that the idea of home is fleeting; fluid. After taking ten+ long-haul flights this year between Oz, New Zealand, Cali, India, Japan and Singapore, lately I worry that I don't even know what home means anymore. Am I forgetting what it feels like? I realize that I'm not only feeling disconnected from home but even from my fam (who I was just with), my friends Down Under, my routine and my own well-being. I've been away too often to feel grounded but not home enough to feel a part of my own family.

I read a quote recently that I pulled out of my Daily Dose box. It said that "every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home." Could this be it? Do I have it in me to find a sense of home while still in motion?

A few weeks after these feelings emerged, I started realizing that there are a few things that feel like home wherever I am. They're not all easy to find, some are abstract. But they are the things that remind me of who I am.

Being outside
Being underwater
Running the world
Hearing my songs
Chatting with the fam
Seeing the ocean
Remembering Gramz
Taking a bubble bath
The smell of Sleepy
Writing down my feelings
Opening a paperback
Singing in the shower
Making a connection
Smiling at a stranger
Breathing myself to sleep
Taking a mindful moment
Hearing from a friend =)
Watching one of my favorite movies
Having a smoothie for breakfast that I made myself! 
Cuddling a pet 
​Cuddling a person 
Sending a postcard 
Reading my favorite writers (like Steph, Liz Gilbert and JK Rowling)
Saying thank you! especially in writing 
Watching Moana 
​Talking with C
Cooking something new 
Walking into work
Taking a ferry ride with my AirPods 
Group FaceTime with all 15 of us (including boys and pets) 

The list goes on. The important part is that I've begun identifying the things, the rituals that I need to prioritize to be my most authentic self. As candid moments show, these are the things that bring me to life! Some of them are pillars of well-being; some align to my core values. Some are basic hobbies and some are objects of my obsession -- "Sleepy" scent from Lush included. 

For now, I'll keep building out the list and filling my days with intention. 

XOXO, 

​Abroad Down Under 

Last month marked my two year anniversary in Sydney. My two-year subscription to this site even renewed! 

With two years gone by, I've held two job roles, been to two sales Kickoffs and traveled to two new countries with LinkedIn - Japan and India. I have lived in two corners of town, have run two workshops AND have run two City2Surfs (at the time of writing this post) Down Under. Now two visas in with one renewal to go, I've hosted two family visitors and two of my own birthday parties, and I even prepared dishes and entertainment for two Friends-giving dinners. 

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It’s been a while since I’ve written, and I wish it were mostly due to my busyness living life. There are countless reasons: I turned thirty, had a fun-filled end of summer, went for a new job at work, and applied for a new Australian work visa. What else got in my way? Sporadic illness, procrastination, writer’s block and failure to dare greatly. I’ve journaled often and written reflections, but I’m always waiting to have that perfect a-ha moment or wave of clarity before I hit POST. 

There are a few reasons that I’m writing NOW. 

1. April is here, and the month’s name is said to come from the Latin word aperire or “to open.” As the time of year when flora tends to bloom and grow (in the Northern Hemisphere at least), my co-worker called it the perfect time to learn and grow too: a doorway not only to Spring but habits like regular learning, personal growth exercises and even "Spring Cleaning.” If there’s one thing that resonates with my feelings and goals for 2019, it’s Growth. More on that below. 
2. I just finished a compelling book this weekend called “Brave not Perfect” by Reshma Saujani, and subsequently watched her 15-minute TED talk. Her personal mission and that of her company Girls Who Code is to re-write the social norm that teaches young girls and women to be perfect in order to be accepted, successful etc. Coding teaches resilience, a growth mindset and the power of community instead. She shares a call-to-action in the book’s final chapters to model bravery. Here goes. 
3. One of my priorities this year is to dare greatly, and was so (​in writing!) before reading the aforementioned book. Being vulnerable and unabashedly myself rewards me in relationships, has served my career well and even works online. If for no other reason than to inspire others to be authentic too, I will continue to post and write what fires me up. 

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In the first quarter of 2019 I’ve already witnessed much, from great loss to new life. I’ve pondered and pivoted, endured waiting periods and ambiguity. To borrow from one of my comrades in cultivating a life with intention (yes - we have a “bookclub”) — my aim this year is to stay brave and leap whenever possible. If her goal is to leap, mine is growth -- I intend to try new things and keep flexing new muscles in order to build my career, cultivate courage, stay inspired and optimise for maximum well-being.  

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What do I mean by leap?

Leap 1

As 2018 came to a close and Christmas break approached back in California, I learned that a highly-ranked “dream job” was opening in my line of business at LinkedIn. In a unique intersection of high-demand and great timing, our APAC sales director was investing in a headcount role to support and enable our field team. In tech, this job is called Sales Enablement or, at LinkedIn, Sales Readiness. I wouldn’t know for a while if it would be based in Singapore or (potentially?!) Sydney, but what I did know was that I had been interested in teaching and consulting internally for years. I also had a chance opportunity to meet with the global leader of this team — she was working in our SoCal office at the time, and only through the end of 2018. We spoke that week.

After weeks of interviewing sales managers, talking to field reps and soliciting advice from learning professionals, I prepped a learning proposal geared at the team of which I’m currently a part. I spent those weeks considering my personal ambitions, my life and routine in Sydney, and my non-negotiables. Based on what’s in my heart, I told my company (in one of several “brave” moments) that I’m not currently willing to moving to Singapore. I shared my story, leveraged what I’ve learned from all my employers (to whom I’m so grateful, from Islands to Apple!), and taught a new concept or two. Days before my thirtieth birthday, I was offered the job of Sales Performance Consultant for LinkedIn APAC.  

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Leap 2

At the end of year while lounging at home in Cali, I considered my New Years’ Intentions differently than I had in the past. As I wrote ideas like “visit a new country” and “go on a solo trip abroad,” I was struck by a rhetorical question in my mind: what better time than the present? Though I knew work awaited and an interview process would begin as soon as possible, I also knew that January would be the best and slowest time for our customer business to be without me. I saw no better way to ensure I was ahead of my resolutions than by booking a trip while December was still in progress. So, off to Google Flights I went...

One of my dearest friends (Brittany the PhD!) and her hubs had a trip lined up to visit New Zealand’s South Island for their belated honeymoon come the first day of January. They invited me to rendezvous for part of their camper van road trip, but I was home in the U.S. during most of the time they’d be meandering. On the other hand, I recognised that I'm living in a remote corner of the Asia Pacific ring — right next to the beautiful and green island country — and shouldn’t miss an opportunity to meet my friends Down Under! While I had visited the North Island’s capital city of Auckland for a quick work trip, I had longed to see the South Island's natural beauty and lakefronts for a while. Finally, I learned that their itinerary’s January finale was a quick and affordable flight away from a long-desired bucket list location that all of my Sydney friends love: Queenstown.   

In the end, New Zealand was beckoning and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity! So I re-packed my suitcase and headed off for a five day adventure from Christchurch to Queenstown via coastal mountain road-trip. On Day One, I took a shuttle from CHC’s arts district to the mecca of marine mammals where I’d meet Britt and Jefe: Kaikoura. We made great decisions, from choosing whale-watching via small plane (success! and no seasickness. See below.) to seeking out a small, quirky brewery off the main road that donned an escape room and mini-golf course out back. Night One we spent cooking in the camper van and seeking out refuge from the rain, which was made easier by the Irish pub (and its cute British bartender) based behind our campsite. I even tried my hand at surfing and caught a wave so tall and scary that I stayed flat on my tummy throughout the entire, exhilarating ride. Thanks Jeff for the push! ​

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After saying goodbye to my travel buddies at CHC airport, I jetted off to Queenstown for my first international trip (mostly) solo. I was immediately met with stunning views and soothing ease; I took a $10 bus toward the lake town’s centre and walked mere steps to my hostel (recommended by a friend who was traveling days later). I arrived before 8am, allowing me to spend the day in leisurely solitude. First stop: the biggest mountain I could see - since it seemed likely to beget the biggest adventure on my way back down it.  See my video here. 

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I enjoyed two full days of strolling, savouring and leaping (from zip-line to zip-line). I even tried one of my scarier adventure sports yet: river-rafting (with strangers!) down the ice-cold Kawarau River. Queenstown was ridiculously picturesque, so I walked/jogged and dined/drank alongside the volcanic lake as much as humanly possible. I met friends traveling from the North of England (see: center), the middle of the U.S. and the cities of South America. I slept in a hostel [for the first time solo] and enjoyed a deluxe pod that reminded me of Zenon’s room on her space station. Finally, I met with one of my first American Sydney friends for fresh seafood, downhill luge rides at sunset, heartfelt catch-ups and overdue reflections on life. After 48 hours in solitude, it was special to have company and an adventure companion at that!  

Leap 3

The least-novel leap I’ve taken this year has somehow felt the scariest of all. After witnessing my own family and certain friends experience loss, I’ve come to re-appreciate and more deeply understand life’s profound fragility. Not despite but perhaps through the pain of distance and fear of worst-case-scenarios, I appreciate even more the fun times at home and today’s technology. I can’t predict the future, but I know that my home remains first - and always will - in California. So, led by my heart once again, I decided to pursue a second work visa to reside and consult in Australia. 

This week, on 23rd March — it was approved. I have the option to be A Broad Down Under through March 2021.  

I’ll take each new adventure and its subsequent teachings one leap at a time. For now, wish me luck and thanks for staying along for the ride!

xoxo, 

A Broad Down Under  

​I have a tradition each year where, on New Years eve night or shortly thereafter, I reflect on the year that’s about to end by thinking about each of the twelve months individually. I usually list experiences and memories that stand out in my mind without photos or calendar entries; sometimes, I cheat and sneak a look back at my journals, forgetful and then nostalgic/grateful toward all of the great things that blessed me that year.
 
This year is the first that I scribe this exercise with the intention of sharing. After watching a recent learning course on Leading yourself in the workplace, I found new appreciation for the value of reflection. The course led me to conduct a workshop on ways that we can better acknowledge and celebrate our achievements. Not only does this help us stay motivated and get recognition for our work professionally; it’s shown to cultivate countless other benefits including increased happiness and fulfillment, greater amounts of positive relationships and deeper gratitude (not necessarily in that order!).
 
This exercise fondly reminded me of a framework called the 18 areas of life. Introduced to me by my college and now-lifelong bestie Jill, it's a list of value categories that one can use to gauge and benchmark their overall contentment in life. From my recollection, the eighteen areas include the obvious: family, work, health, finances, spirituality, purpose. It also prompts me to rate my Relationships, Community, Home, Personal Space, Body (Sex too!). My favourites include degree of Learning, level of Adventure/Fun, and the basics we take for granted including Time and Habits.
 
2018 was a year of countless firsts, several failures, serious loss, and numerous learnings. It was abundant in travel, friendship, new discoveries and new habits. Though it's taken me weeks to think about said areas and finally sit down to draft this reflection -- perhaps delayed in part by the desire for more time or the absence of the right time -- it's nearly the end of January. I'm out of time. Better to just write than not share at all!

​A few lessons stand out as I think of what the Universe showed me this year:
 
Life's biggest lessons come at the most inconvenient of times. My last handwritten note from Gramz boasted these words on the front, and I read them two weeks after her passing - the day her note arrived in the mail. Being even further away from home than I normally am when I got the news, my biggest fear upon moving overseas had come true. Surrounded by new experiences and people who were celebrating, I had to stand up in her honour (see above) and accept both my award and the fact that life has highs and lows -- often at the same time.
 
Grief is weird and different for everyone. I had never related to those who lost someone-- not really. Certain friends and colleagues gave advice with the best intent, but no one else could put words to how I felt or what I should do. My deepest moments of grief came unexpectedly and sporadically. I miss and long for her as much as I savour my gratitude for her. I wish she could read this.
 
Everyone is doing the best they can at their level of consciousness. While such optimism reads like something I should have always believed, it wasn't until I realised my uniqueness and endured my hardest year that I truly understood the effort of -- humanity, I guess. How could she say that? Why don't they understand? We each see the world through our own lens and struggle with the same desperate hope of being happy or doing something great. We can't rightly assume that we would do better if we were in the other person's shoes, in the exact same "totality of their circumstances." We’re not them. We all have our struggles.
 
In order to live the life we desire, we have to release the hold that our past has on us. I've listened to this mantra through a digital meditation for years, but only this year realised the extent of its meaning. Releasing the hold that our past on us is not only about pain or those who may have “wronged us”; it's also about letting go the grip on our past selves as well as the expectations that we alone have set upon us. My previous chapters are precious and inked, yet closed.  
 
Music is woven into our family’s legacy. On Christmas Eve we sat and listened to holiday classics, acknowledging the greats who were favourites of Grandma and Gramz. As the thought crossed the room that it was like they both were with us, I realised a new appreciation for music's gift of connecting us: regardless of time or celestial plane. My mom’s choral teachings and my sisters’ lovely voices collectively weave some of my fondest memories together.
 
I can run the world. Moving my body across Sydney and even Newbury reminded me that there isn’t a minimum distance or a certain pace required. Running wasn’t a part of my SF life, or a ritual that belonged to Mike or the Embarcadero or the streets of LA. Running is a part of me, and running is about covering a little ground each day… in order to become a better version of myself when I fall asleep than I was when I woke up that morning. Thankful for discovering Coach Bennett through the Nike app to remind me of that!
 
No often isn’t a bad word! While essentialism taught me that boundaries garner respect, this year and its mentors taught me that "no" also makes room for "yes" by someone else. I can choose with intention when I know my heart and values. I can also decline opportunities without missing out on the right to others. I've built a community and circle of trust. I am worthy and I am enough exactly as I am. 
 
Manifesting my dreams won’t always turn out looking like my vision did. I believe so firmly in the power of intentions and visualising - but this year, several milestones arrived on unexpected paths. Where I assumed things would change or I'd be required to move somewhere else, an opportunity arrived in the place I newly call home. When I dreamed of crossing a bridge later down the line, I walked at the right pace and the bridge arrived before me. Finally, I need not cross the proverbial bridge until I come to it. I should only focus on what I can control and have faith in the rest. I'm applying this now to my pursuit of a new opportunity. My visa, my residence and the homes in my future? Only time will tell. 
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Finally, daring greatly will only reward me.
 
Being vulnerable when I was struggling at work helped me grow more effective strategies with my boss throughout the year, and being vulnerable with my friends or through social media paid dividends -- it turns out our confidantes appreciate authenticity. This year, I even "dared greatly" by posting videos, sharing my story of transformation and writing about how I built brand rapport since moving here. In turn, I was celebrated as a top profile at Linkedin AU and my long-form post on LinkedIn went viral. I constantly re-read Teddy Roosevelt's words via Brené Brown: 

“It is not the critic who counts; not the [one] who points out how the strong stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the [one] who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming... who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly”

Upon deeper reflection, countless highlights and bucket list items were ticked in 2018:
 
January Alyssa and I took the reef! We rang in the year at my first festival, first time camping, first time traveling together. Phil moved to Sydney. Book club thrived. I met one of my soul sisters here: Becca! 
February Scott and I took the Vic coast. Sydney too. I conquered the Great Ocean Road and I turned 29 with everyone I’d come to love! I climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge.
March I hosted my first culture program and cultivated an Int'l Women's Day. Jill and I discovered Byron Bay and even more of Melbs. Saw my first Mardi Gras in Australia! "30 before 30" began in a courageous attempt at dating. I met another true friend Cecilia and celebrated home[sickness] on Easter.
April I grew my crew. Becca’s birthday led to endless flirting, shameless dancing and my first true flame. Yoga continued, more goodbyes took place. Amanda came to visit and I savoured Sydney more deeply than ever! I filmed my first-ever web series as a travel host (dream job #1 -- coming soon).
May I also hosted my first true celebration on Cinco de Mayo. I hosted USC students! I got Lys married and fell in all kinds of love on Kauai for the weekend of a lifetime. I reconnected with SF. I saw Talia graduate and got to spend time with half my Welsh family. 
June I celebrated and said farewell to Gramz. I saw SD, explored with Chlo and Mom. Returned to Hamilton Island, showed Mom my city.  I had quality Bram & Sarah time and rounded out the best family visit.  
July I saw Macau and returned to HK. I won big, a career highlight… and we lost Gramz. I endured the lowest of lowlights I've experienced in this life. 
August I don’t recall clearly. I reaccelerated at work and took on a dream job (on the side) in welcoming our new hires. I started cooking; I set boundaries. I went on dates and opened my heart again. Kirb and Andy decided to spend their lives together.  
September Ticked the bucket list and went to the Blue Mountains to savour an escape. I branched out, started career chats and brought women leaders to LinkedIn. I started embracing Marley Spoon and growing my cooking confidence! 
October I rocked my most intentional and rewarding [Learning] InDay for employees! Made new friends, painted again. I started personal training with Raks. 
November Zina got married. I was recognised on LinkedIn, I wrote a post... and I hosted my very own fulfilling Friendsgiving! Explored more culture activities in Sydney and went out on my latest first dates. Saw potential by keeping my heart open. 
December I celebrated life love and 2018, from person to party to purposeful day after day. Partied across Sydney and then continued home to NP! Reunited across LA and AZ and got the family time I needed, pieces of Gramz included. 
 
I read at least 10 books, met more than 15 cute guys and cooked over 20 new meals. I went to 10 new cities and booked my first international solo trip! I ventured across Oz, grew my confidence, celebrated my loved ones from afar and saw countless new things, movies, recreational things and yummy restaurants.

In a forgotten journal entry from 2015, I wrote that "September is the new January.” It’s a month of fresh starts, spring cleaning and untapped potential. It marks the fourth quarter of the “game" as the clock runs out on the time for annual goals and New Years Resolutions. Seasons take a brisk turn, either down colourful autumn lane (back home) or onto the long sunny days of Summer. It's the final countdown. 

So much happened this month of September that it felt I was mid-leap from the spring of an inflection point I mentioned in my last post. If July endured the hardest combination of grief, joy, bittersweet pride, love and gratitude, then August was for healing and September was for building up my strength again! 

By absolutely no coincidence but, rather, a few fated opportunities and a stroke of intuition, I spent a long weekend in September taking my first entirely solo trip: in a town called Long Jetty in the Central Coast of New South Wales.

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I arrived via taxi after a two-hour train from Sydney. Sloped slightly downhill in number nine’s slanted driveway, I noticed I was being greeted by a banana yellow door like its AirBnB listing had promised. I approached the door and touched the digital padlock with a Hogwarts-sort of magic: the numbers glimmered to life on the screen and silently prompted me to tap: one one oh six. Unlock. 

The first thing I noticed was a coastal theme: warm hues of sunshine and sky blue adorned each room. In the master bed and bathroom, alternating blues and gold suddenly reminded me of my arch nemesis, the UCLA Bruin. That slid from my mind as I glimpsed seemingly local and aboriginal art; a wise elephant in Noir filter glanced down her trunk at me knowingly. This could work for my private thinking sanctuary.  ​

The next thing I saw was a critter on the floor, in stark contrast on the cream carpet and disrupting the otherwise peaceful ambiance. Deep breath. I delicately grabbed him up in a paper towel and freed him onto my private patio - let’s be honest, I chucked him onto the grassy depths below it - since the alternative was risking his company in my fresh white bed linens that night. This was not a replay of Jubilee Pocket in Airlie Beach circa earlier this year; I didn’t have a brave companion like Scott with whom I could chase and capture unwanted flatmates until all hours of the night! First proud moment of solitary courage: check. 

It was early afternoon, so I took my time to settle in and observe my spacious quarters. My room: cozy with electric blankets and three simple furnishings only. I took my three weekend outfits and placed them cozily rolled onto my corner chair. A hanging mirror and its protruding frame made a quaint shelf for my single pair of earrings and four rings. Later that evening, I’d place my precious findings from the day’s beach walk there. 

Past my room, a small dining table neighboured a lonely guitar and small houseplant. The room-length bookshelf featured classics and modern pop reads, mysteries like I’d find on our bookshelf in the pink room [back home]. My three-ring-binder of a host-guide told me there was Foxtel and Netflix for my enjoyment. I thought, I think I’ll avoid them in favour of the rarities only available on the Central Coast. 

​I set out for my first bout of exploration, inspired by the daily ritual and sole tourist attraction native to Long Jetty - The 3pm Pelican Feeding at "The Entrance" (fondly known as such for its unique and narrow waterway from the Pacific into a saltwater bay-like Tuggerah Lake). The birds were fearless, bigger than small preteens and resembled the epic pelicans that came out of Jumanji! After taking a look, I continued on an easy jogging path that circled the entire peninsula from Long Jetty (on the west side, facing the lake and the rest of Oz) all the way around the Entrance and several more ocean bays (named Blue and Toowoon). There were ocean baths, rocky beaches with treasure troves of abandoned shells, and only a scattered few passerby or vacationers (likely due to my weekday timing). I passed a pair of women, sisters, who walked their dog lovingly and asked what had brought me there. I also spied a beach bungalow hideaway back in the trees that I later discovered hold's the homey name of Kim's beachside retreat. I can see myself returning someday.  

​Upon reflection, I am just now noticing this coastal pocket's resemblance to a nearly-whole heart. Little did I know when I chose and booked it that such a whole-heartedly heart-encompassing journey would ensue. Bonus! Being positioned on the west coast of such a quaint peninsula (see "Long Jetty" on the map) would mean sunrises over the ocean and sunsets over the Lake just beyond my private backyard - see below. 

When I returned home that first evening, I found my patio to be framed in magic hour sunshine softened only by the second floor’s wooden pillars. A glass-top table and five wicker chairs look out over the lower patio deck, inviting with a giant outdoor sectional and black-brick fire pit that’s square in shape. To its left was a half yard of grass, an herb garden speckled in red and a hammock that’s been unjustly neglected according to its sun-faded hues. The thick, smooth branches of the yard's mystery-trees slashed starkly against the sky’s glow, resembling a monster-size urchin resting behind this cottage of mine (see it there behind my tea mug?).  The autumnal cloud-cover made for some heavenly witching hour-lighting. 

Enter: Day two of my first-ever solo retreat and vacation

My first morning’s jaunt was to the nearby Glass Onion Society, a neighbourhood corner haunt boasting coffee, food and vibes on its front door. All were served. In one of the first effortful activities of my phone-free day, I savoured each rare colour and taste on my plate instead of photographing them… like I normally would. Button mushrooms, cherry tomatoes on their vine, half a perfect avo and multi-coloured grain sourdough toasted to a crunch. Meals don’t often get better than that, but this one did - thanks to an almond flat white and tropics smoothie (featuring pine, mango, passion and coconut). 

I returned home to rest in my queen sized bed under a checker-quilted duvet in Long Jetty. There was Morning Tea at my bedside and a fresh apple in my belly, books stacked at my feet where Simba should be. As I both read and wrote and wondered what else would come of this retreat, I realised that Rilke’s words from Letters on Life touched on why I love journaling about my experiences: he says,

"The longer I live, the more urgent it seems to me to endure and transcribe the whole dictation of existence up to its end, for it might just be the case that only the very last sentence contains that small and possibly inconspicuous word through which everything we had struggled to learn and everything we had failed to understand will be transformed into magnificent sense.” 

​When I wasn't scribing my innermost thoughts, musings on my career goals and writing down every rich and lovely detail of my discoveries on this trip, I made time for activities that we don't often fit into the daily, city routine. I decided to attempt a digital detox on Day 2 and left my phone on airplane mode. I went for another stroll through the coastal path lined in rainforest-y foliage and did some sketching in the aforementioned backyard. I jogged through a protected marshland and waved to more pelicans; I even forewent headphones in favour of nature sounds.
​I picked up litter! Finally, I went back to the Glass Onion Society and listened to Central Coast locals share brave snippets of Spoken Word. Over a light Mexican food dinner at a cozy recommendation by my BnB hosts, I people-watched and appreciated the unique eccentricities of this quaint coastal town.

When asked how was it? about this quiet solo adventure, I reflect that it was both beautiful and quiet, raw and confronting. I had space to think, remember, dream and imagine. I reached several moments of the clarity I had set out striving toward. I savoured love and gratitude as well as well as longing and mourning. Finally, I watched the sun recede beyond the still lake and mysterious hills of NSW mainland. As quiet strollers and amateur fishermen and -women passed me on the long jetty, I acknowledged the 180-degree panoramic view of lake-sea around me (and no, not through my iPhone's Panorama setting). We should remember to unplug more often. 

Here's to have taken time for what's in my heart, and to many more solo adventures to come. 

Xoxo, 
Abroad Down Under