Moving Across The Planet And Other Easy Decisions

I suspect there are easier ways to do this. But I was tired of easy. I needed something more along the lines of piss off everyone and throw it all away but with, you know.... a soft landing.

Enter Australia.

For the sake of transparency I must say am wildly lucky in a very surprising way. My husband is a truly good person. One of the best ones out there. Granted it took me no small amount of really bad (for me) ones to try on for size understand what I needed but I'll save that story for another day. Long story shortened, my husband is a gem that came with a surprising bonus. He's a dual citizen of the US and Australia. When we met this wasn't a big one on my radar. I'd never been to Australia and to be honest it wasn't on my top 5, maybe even top 10 places I'd dreamed of traveling. Not because of the infamous deadly creatures but because it seemed from the limited accounts I'd heard, kind of like a calmer, saner America with cute accents. And I just had no interest in going anywhere that in any way resembled a place that I was growing increasingly desperate to escape. But as things got worse and worse in the good old U S of A we took our first trip, then our second and by our third had begun to talk about whether a move could be possible. I began to fall in love with it for reasons that deserve their own post which will also be forthcoming.

It wasn't easy. As a known procrastinator and avoider of hard things, the task of applying for residency via a partner visa and beginning to work with banks on lending options (hint; its basically impossible to get an overseas mortgage), all of which involved an mind boggling amount of paperwork and accordingly stress and shame about my poor organizational skills, was more than daunting. It was my version of hell. Somehow though my neurotypical and excessively patient husband kept us moving along and about 4 years later I was granted my permanent residency. About a year after that somehow, miraculously, we bought a house in beautiful Pottsville, New South Wales, a tiny town in Northern Rivers with incredible beaches and lush forests filled with all manner of noisy and exotic to me wildlife. A chill and slow place with possibly the happiest and most helpful people on the planet. A place that everyone who lives here calls paradise.

Out intention at first was to use the house as an investment and vacation home. But when we got here 4 months ago something changed in me. My nervous system started to relax. I began to feel safe in a way I hadn't completely realized I had not felt in decades. My hair and my heart started to expand in the humidity. The absolutely bonkers sound of kookaburras at 5 am became something that migrated from confusion and shock to eager expectation every morning. Once we had made our way to the deck with coffee in hand somewhere closer to 6 when every other bird was chiming in, there was simply too much sound, too much color, too much movement in and between the trees to think about or feel anything but what was directly surrounding me. In short, nature was taking over and she decided I was hers now.

The decision to stay wasn't easy. We were not 2 but 3 and family member number 3, my younger son, did not want to stay. My husband wanted to but couldn't because of work which meant we were talking about living apart for most of the year. I have a 23 year old son that I adore and aging parents back home that I felt both love and obligation for. A practice I had spent 17 years building and clients I had deep and long relationships with. In short, I felt like a massive asshole for even considering staying. But an even louder voice, an even stronger force was telling me I couldn't go back. Every cell in my body felt like it was ready to abandon ship and dive into the cerulean ocean waters here while my husk of a form dragged herself back to a place I knew I didn't want to be when I tried to convince myself it was the right thing to do. The responsible and reasonable and kind thing to do. The thing that people wanted and even needed me to do. But I could not do it. I think if I had tried something would have intervened; an illness or accident or natural disaster. As it were, I made a choice after months of agonizing uncertainty, guilt and incredibly hard conversations, to root down and build a life here. Or at least to try to before returning if it didn't work out.

Looking back now I know it was the right choice. I'm finding myself again and my child, previously debilitated by the kind of anxiety, depression and burnout that only life as a neurodivergent kid in a capitalist, conformist, fast paced and high pressure culture can bring, is slowly recovering. My marriage is strong and my husband as supportive and patient as a person can be under the less than ideal or fair circumstances.

The land and the people here have showed up to embrace us and I feel the tug of sign after sign reminding us we are in the right place. That we can find what we need here. That we can become the people we want to be and not the ones we had to when everything external to us was dictating our choices and our identities.

And so, it's time to begin. Again.