The power of mirrors.

Written in May of 2023:

I moved to Australia in December of 2018, right as I entered my 30^th year of life.

To be more specific, I moved to Western Australia. The entire state of Western Australia (WA) has a population of only about 2.8 million people in total. It’s geographical equivalent would be from about Montana, Wyoming and Western Texas to the Pacific Coast. Perth has approximately 2.2 million people in the greater metropolitan area, and only about 30k living in the actual city itself. The context is important when I try to place some of the drastic shifts that happened in my life moving from Seattle, Washington to the Hills of Western Australia.

I spent the bulk of my 20s living in my favorite neighborhood with everything I loved from my running trail to my yoga studio to my favorite Korean fusion restaurant to my favorite brewery; all being walkable. Even working downtown, I enjoyed walking home along Lake Union, taking in the beauty of the city, crossing the Fremont bridge, shedding the day and being ready to pour energy into my personal life. I had the people I loved most at the tips of my fingers. The amount of days I would just walk over to my sister Becca’s apartment to see if she was home and then enjoy a beer on her stoup basking in the sunshine. Or when I had a particularly hard day I knew I could come over with a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine and we would just lay on her couch watch LOTR or Harry Potter. My sister Andrea and I got to go on hikes together or plan backpacking trips when we needed to free ourselves from the city and soak in some nature. She introduced me to a million amazing restaurants and taught me the joy of sitting at chef’s table and getting your curiosity satiated through conversations with the chefs. When I missed my sister Liz and her children, I could book a flight and go bask in their company for a weekend to soothe my soul. Even just knowing she was a mere flight away brought me such comfort. I had regular access to nearly all my closest friends who I spent the better part of my 20s pouring my energy and love into. I had the majesty of Rainier looking over me every day and calming me every evening. I had nearly no responsibility, enough cash to pay my bills and still have some fun, and the future felt like a million years away. The only real downside to Seattle was my taste in men and that was self-inflicted.

And then I met a man who changed everything and because of the love I had cultivated across so many people in my 20s I felt like I had the ability to take not just a chance on him, but a chance on myself. For me, it always felt that the worst-case scenario was that we would break up and I would move back. Which really isn’t that bad; I’ve gone through devastating breakups before and I came out stronger on the other side.  I knew I had a community. I knew I had a support system. I knew I was a competent, capable person with enough privilege to reestablish myself quickly. There was no downside to this gamble.

And so I left. I left at the peak of a bubble that was about to burst without having to experience it firsthand. I left with a romantic view of my life in Seattle and the unique moment of time I had been existing in for the last few years. And I left, not realizing what 2020 would bring.

Before I go on to whinge about my experiences, I have to acknowledge the immense privilege of easily obtaining a visa, moving to another country where my partner was capable and willing to financially support me when I got there, with a beautiful home, all while speaking the same language and generally looking similar to the people around me. I have a huge support system back in the States made up of family and friends who have become family. I don’t have an immigrant sob story. I came to this country with immense privilege and that has only attracted more privilege to me.

It's also all these things that didn’t immediately make me realize how much I was struggling with being an expat during an already wild transition in my life.

Years ago, after I went through a breakup, one of my friends expressed the pain of bearing witness to me making myself and my life smaller; that while I was finally seeing the cumulative effect, she had watched the accumulation. It was an eye-opening moment for me.

Now, after five years in Australia, I’ve entered a similar moment.

In April of this year, my beautiful soul friend Keri came to visit me for three weeks while she took some respite from work. Keri and I have known each other since high school and been friends for the past decade and a half, but our friendship has almost entirely been long distance. We often go months without talking and years without seeing each other. And yet every time I am with her, there is innumerable joy. I don’t think either of us really knew what to expect or had any real expectation over the visit but we embraced the chance to hang freely. And it transformed my fucking life.

I felt at ease. I felt like myself. I felt free. I felt known. I felt home. I felt understood. I felt seen. I felt unadulterated joy. I was taken aback by the amount of people who commented on how happy and lighthearted I seemed or said how radiant I was looking. Her presence lit up a part of me I didn’t realize I had snuffed out.

Suddenly I had more energy. I was more articulate, more connected with my words. I was sillier. I was happier with and kinder to my husband. Who then in turn was happier and kinder with me. And I began to feel an excitement in my life I hadn’t felt in a while. I felt a deep sense of pride being able to share my life with her and all the things I love here.

As her trip came to a close, a slow dread started to creep in. She had unlocked a part of me that I had unwittingly tucked away and I was scared when she left I’d lose it again.

2023 started for me with a significant depressive episode, unlike any I had experience in the last decade. One day in particular, Matthew lovingly asked me if I was going to get up at all and I looked at him in complete exhaustion and responded that I had no interest in experiencing the day. And so I slept through it. I quickly realized this was beyond what I was capable of handling and that Peloton wasn’t actually going to save me, so I sought professional help. The best part about my therapist, beyond her reframes, is that our sessions are done outside. Walking together along the foreshore. Sometimes we sit. Sometimes we mediate. But she has created an environment where I can release the energy that gets churned up in a session as it comes.

I brought to her in our session the dread I was feeling and the joy I was scared of losing. And as we talked about it, so many of the other sessions we had all started to fall into place and I began to fully understand the cumulative effect of the last five years.

In the weeks leading up to moving to Western Australia I routinely sobbed uncontrollably. I am taking about full body shaking, can’t breathe, snot dripping from my nose, eyes bloodshot, SOBBING. I imagine it was deeply unsettling for my friends and family to witness this as they sent me off into the complete unknown. In those moments, I wasn’t crying out of fear of what was to come I was grieving all the love I was geographically distancing myself from.

So I came to Australia emotionally wrecked. And yet, the minute I stepped off the last plane, came down that escalator and saw Matthew’s face, I immediately felt at home. I knew with absolute certainty, I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Living in the Hills with 13 acres, its pretty damn easy to concoct your own world without seeing anyone else, and I spent a good portion of my free time video chatting with people back home. It felt almost like an extended vacation with my love. Those first six months I was living in Australia loving Matthew, but mentally I was still in the States.

Yes, I felt deeply unsure of myself. I had to learn the culture, colloquialisms and customs that define even basic things like your coffee order or your humor or grocery shopping or what side of the car to get into and what side of the road to drive on; and what pop culture references they are talking about or which colors signify different teams AND NEVER to confuse them. I had no friends of my own and the people I did know where all through Matthew which always left me with the impression I couldn’t necessarily be my whole self around them.

It felt like a million paper cuts burning regularly and that was the beginning of making my world a little smaller, but it also still felt manageable. I had my friends and family and while I was far away, they still felt so near. And I had my baby girl Winnie who I got to explore and watch change everyday. And I had my incredibly supportive partner who gave me time and space to adjust and who brought so much joy into my life.

After about six months, we had some stress and slightly destabilizing events that left me feeling the need for control. This coincided with a recruiter approaching me about a role similar to those from my career in the States and despite having wanted to escape the drudges of corporate life, the stability was too enticing and within a week I had a job.

This is where I think it’s important to mention there are less than 6k Americans living in Western Australia. We literally make up less than .002% of the population. So when I say I am the only American, I mean it. And don’t I feel it. Almost every time I’ve gone drinking or socializing with a group, someone starts asking me about the orange glob of human treachery that is Donald Trump.

After one such instance, one of my new friends even asked me – doesn’t it get old always being asked and having to represent all Americans? Yes, yes it fucking does.

Australians, particularly Western Australians pride themselves on being moderate. They believe in a “Fair Go” and purport having an egalitarian culture. While I think it’s likely an ideal they are working towards more so than a complete reality, I would say that at a baseline you’d have a better shot making in Australia than the US. Universal healthcare, affordable education, mandatory voting, a legal system that is substantially more fair, more nontraditional paths to employment and a more balanced political landscape (for now).

That being said, they also tend to value social cohesion over a progressive mindset. And there’s the rub.

I started working for my company in June 2019 and very quickly I became The American. That was tolerable for a bit, but fast forward to 2020 – the year of George Floyd’s murder at the unapologetic hands of police, the arrival of COVID, and the 2020 Presidential Election – and I could not take it. I could not take people taking so continuously and so casually talking about the US.

Normally when I start working for a company, I spend my early months observing and digesting the work, the people, and the dynamics. I am more reserved in the expression of my personality, my beliefs and my opinions. And I kept to that at first. Until I couldn’t take it any longer.

I sometimes envy people who have privilege and don’t care to explore it or use it to challenge the world. It’s just so much simpler to sit in your own comfort and live your life and ignore the things happening around you because they don’t impact you. But I am not built this way. Not to say that I am perfect, far from it to be sure – I have a lot I continue to learn and unpack on a regular basis and my beliefs are ever evolving. But the more I become aware of the world and the injustices in it, the more I try to fix it in the ways that I can and the more I try to speak truth to it.

So very quickly, I started speaking up. I became practiced in keeping a calm, measured tone. To share historical context, prioritize facts, challenge misinformation. I firmly believe it is responsibility of elevated groups to speak up, challenge and change the notions and systems we have created over generations that marginalize others. They didn’t build this, we did, so we have to break it down. But it is a constant and unending slog. And it perpetually made me feel other than.

What I really struggled with was these people talked about everything so casually because it was a different world for them. It’s a freakshow to gaze upon and comment on. It’s voyeuristic.

But for me, it was my life. It was my loved ones.

I have family and friends who are Black.

I have friends who have been harassed by police because of the color of their skin.

I have friends and family who are Immigrants and even some who were Undocumented.

I have friends and family who are Queer and Trans.

I have friends who have had abortions.

I have been on various forms of birth control since I was 1, courtesy of lethal periods.

I have relied on Unemployment.

I have been in a position where because I lost my job I lost my health insurance.

I had the privilege at that same time of being able to get onto my parent’s health insurance because of the Affordable Care Act (“Obamacare”)

I have family that are retired and need their Social Security and their Medicare.

I have, and have friends and family with mental health issues.

I have friends and family who are medically complex.

I have family with severe disabilities.

I have friends and family who came down with COVID and either 1) had severe symptoms without much access to medical care or 2) have had long term symptoms that they have had to navigate through a challenging medical system. Shit, when my sister brought my niece to the Emergency department, they had to turn her away because they were already at capacity with other children in more dire conditions. They told my sister to take her home and just keep an eye out for if her lips or fingertips started to turn blue (a sign of oxygen deprivation) which would mean she would need to come back. What kind of horror show do we live in where that reality is happening, and an entire fucking political party tries to gaslight the world into thinking it’s a hoax. Or people in my state here complaining about having to wear a mask during yoga. FACEPALM.

The list goes on and on and on.

My point being, what you casually talk about as watercooler fodder is not merely politics, it is people’s actual lives. It is my fucking life.

And every conversation, every news article, every everything made me feel, for the first time since I had left for Australia, oceans away from my loved ones. And completely powerless. Indefinitely.

It broke me wide open. And this distance took away my ability to self soothe through others company and forced me to be with myself. That started pulling at a thread longer than I could have imagined. I started to feel deeply alone.

I also started to observe shifts in some of my friendships. Many of them had relied heavily on my physical presence and now that I could no longer provide that access, they struggled to find their footing. I started to realize they were analysing, whether it be conscious or subconscious, my life from a lens of “was it worth it?”

Was it worth it? This is a question I have been asked far more than I ever anticipated. To be honest, it feels like more of a reflection of the person asking than of me. I feel like what they really mean is: was he worth it? But that is a fundamental misunderstanding of the choice I made. I didn’t choose a man. I had the man already. I chose a feeling.

I chose the feeling I had when I visited him in the Hills. The calm. The sunshine. The sound of the birds ushering in the day. The joy of starting every day with a hike through the trees. I chose a well-regulated nervous system. I chose adventure.

Feeling as though certain people were measuring my conversations through their own lens of “was it worth it” made me feel protective about my life. It made me withdraw. In person, it weirdly had the opposite effect of feeling so frustrated that it had to be perfect in their eyes for them to cope with their own grief around me leaving, made me want to vent all the things that were driving me crazy and shatter that curated perspective. These are the perpetual narratives I was navigating in my own brain. And it fed into the swirl I was experiencing.

A swirl I now see as grief. Grief of the living, of the letting go, in the growing up, in relinquishing alternate realities of what my life might have been. Grieving how I viewed my relationships and my world. The people are alive, the places still exist, I am still here. And yet, it’s all different.

This grief has also given me the profound gift of curiosity; of reevaluating my relationships to alcohol, to my body, to my sexuality, to the impact of my Christian upbringing, to money and power, to my values, to my career, to my father’s death, to familial and childhood trauma, to health and wellness. Through this process, I began to expose old wounds, both spiritual and physical, and attempted to use the tools at my disposal to heal them; quickly realizing I didn’t have enough or the right ones.

I’ve spent five years questioning almost every part of my identity. And it wasn’t pretty. And all the while I kept adding more complexities to my life. One dog wasn’t enough, so we got two. Two wasn’t enough, so we got three. Three isn’t enough, and now I want cats. Kidding. Not really. But for now kidding. Because every beautiful furbaby we took on is more emotionally and medically complex than the last and the dynamic of being outnumbered by a wild pack all while my partner’s travel schedule has increased tenfold, has taken me to my fucking brink. In the past year alone we’ve probably spent around $15k in vet bills alone. Not food, not equipment, not the $2k we spent in dog training. Oh no, just vet bills. We bought an additional block of land with a challenging history and relationship to the neighbours and that temporarily drained our savings. Which from the lens of our ever-mounting vet bills, was very stressful albeit an exceptional investment and a great opportunity. 

Funnily, I actually thought I was managing it ok. I am resilient and I find joy in every day. I pride myself deeply on these traits. I have kept perspective on the privilege I have in the world, the community I have to support me, and my own capabilities and competencies. It couldn’t be that bad.

And then I talked to one of my sisters and she shared how worried she was with the way I was white knuckling through life. My immediate reaction was defensiveness but when someone you hold in high regard offers you an honest mirror to yourself, it’s worth taking a look.

I chose to unpack it in my next therapy session and it showed me: I am incredibly resilient; I do create joy; I have manifested financial and professional success; I am self-aware and actively seeking to grow; I have done a lot of to invest in myself; I have built a beautiful community for myself here; I am incredibly proud of my relationship. It also showed me: there are other measures for wellness; that I have been holding my breath; that I have been self-sacrificing and resentful; that I have been carrying grief for the dead and the living; that I am angry at certain people in my life for falling short of what I expected from them; that I have far more agency in my life than I have been claiming; that I have been letting my fear dictate some decisions more than my values.

It’s amazing what a mirror can show you. And I am so thankful for the people in my life who hold them up for me to look. This distance has brought me the clarity around the role my sisters play in my life. They are my A1 Day Ones. My foundation. If best friend is a tier, they are the top. And because of this, they have had the front row seat to the accumulation of changes.

For me, I didn’t fully perceive the cumulative change until Keri came and dusted the cobwebs off.

And so now the ball is in my court. I have the honor of moving forward with intention. Of designing this life to suit me. To curate what feeds the spark that Keri started. Starting to teach yoga again, reading more, dropping down to four days a week, writing again, spending more time with friends, adventuring around Perth suburbs.

I hope I have the courage and presence of mind to continue.