When I hit 15, my world went a little bit chaotic. The decision was made that we would move to New Zealand. The excitement of the new adventure was dampened by the sadness of moving…literally half way across the world…from my friends. I’d created a whole world in Scotland, and it was being destroyed. Of course, puberty and hormones and all the normalities of becoming a teenager didn’t exactly help my emotional state. Nevertheless, it was happening and there was nothing I could do about it.
Funnily enough, despite all of the self-created drama, I now identify as an honorary New Zealander. A kiwi. I learnt some pretty important parts of life during my 10 years there, and live with zero regrets.
But, 10 years was enough. Enough of living somewhere so incredibly far away from all of the places I wanted to explore, and the adventures I knew were waiting for me. So, I wrote my resignation, sold everything I owned, and packed my bags a month later to head to London for a job interview with the hope of staying on my friend of a friend of a friends couch.
And you know what?
It was the best decision I ever made.