8 Years On…

How do I capture life in the past 8 years in one single post?

New Zealand life, as we started out, a young family with Jack and Veronique being 3 and 1, to the 11 and 9-year-olds they are today.   Needless to say, a lot has happened, and we have fully embraced that change, for most of those 8 years.

We finally are able to say out loud to people that we have retired, instead of feeling awkward and slightly shameful like we haven’t fully achieved giving our fullest in the professional world, and make up some lame thing we do, like investing and manage finances for ourselves, just trying to sound normal and fit in, when in fact, that takes so little of our hours and focus.

We are full time parents.  We watched the kids ride their bikes without balance wheels for the first time, learn to swim, learn to play the violin and the piano, make friends, teach them the value of money by making them do local paper delivery rounds and earn their own pay cheque, see them busking at the farmers market and use those funds to buy a kayak, a GoPro.   We bought tents, hiked and camped, bought a campervan, did roadtrips, including a 67-day trip to the North Island trip together (speaking of being together 24/7 in close quarters, you can’t get any closer than that).  We played games, lots and lots of them - Catan, Azul, Cacassone, 7 Wonders, Splendor, mexican train, unstable unicorn, … you name it, we have probably played it.  We know our children like the back of our hands, see their every mood and reaction.  They were blessed with wonderful teachers in their lives, from our adopted Kiwi nana Raelene that was their preschool teacher, to their wonderful inspiring violin teacher Tamsin.  We even homeschooled, one year for Veronique and two years for Jack.

We learned new skills.  Moving from the glamour of city life with a balcony and some house plants and herbs pots to a house with land and garden and trees.  So we planted, lots and lots of trees — avacado, cherries, pear, apple, figs (4 varieties), peaches (3 varieties), apricots, lime, lemon, and quince.  We grew some of our own food in a vegetable garden.  We learned to compost.  I even did a soil microbiology course learning about the interconnectedness of bacteria, fungi, nematodes and microarthropods.  We can chop wood and start a fire with ease now.  We fix things around the house because there is no one to call. We adapted to NZ life.

We cooked.  Or rather, I cooked, and they ate.  We created world cuisines in our home just because we couldn’t get them in the neighborhood like we used to.  I learned to make so many things from scratch.  I started to become very interested in knowing where my ingredients come from, so I got to know a number of the small farmers around, supporting little businesses and causes that are dear to my heart.  We hosted meals and banquet gatherings trying to make new friends, and my food at home is nicknamed “The Delicious Cafe” by the children.

We struggled and thrived.  The remoteness of our life gave us a sense of solidarity but can be incredibly lonely at times.  We turned to each other and strengthened that sense of family and togetherness, of the four of us.  We made friends, a handful only, but somehow those relationships are deeper than I have ever imagined them to be.  I have people and shoulders to cry on when I am upset, and people to laugh and celebrate milestones with.  I was grateful for everything.

Life was perfect.  I was content.  Until I was not.

The perfect storm hit just after three years of COVID lock-down and our regular trips to visit family and friends overseas ceased with no warning.  Mic’s mother passed away just at the beginning of that time.  His father re-married soon after.  I went through a short depression in December 2022 with no apparent cause.  Then, it seems like a mid-life crisis in the making that eventually made us feel the full brunt of our lack of our understanding of ourselves, our marriage and family started to crumble in March 2023.  

The last year, to say it was hard, was probably an understatement.  It was the hardest thing and the biggest challenge I have been through in my life.  Everything that I had built up to this point seem to have lost meaning.  More tears were shed and more insomnia and sleepless nights than I have ever experienced.  I lost 7 kilograms in one year, unintentionally returning to the weight I had when I was in high school.  I went to therapy, read over 60 books in one year about vulnerability, conflict, the art of loving, emotional inheritance, forgiveness, religion, searching for meaning and understanding.  

And gradually, I went from drowning, franticaly swinging my arms to gasp air at the surface, to slowly being dragged to shore, by the love and understanding of those who stood by me, family that showed unconditional love, friends old and new that was willing to see me for who I am and encourage me and hold me gently.  And slowly, I am finding my feet on the ground again.  I look back at the entries of this blog, the words written, and the path travelled.  I still have this tremendous faith that all things in life happen for a reason, pain, is the necessary propellor of growth.  And I am growing.

As for when I will reach the other side of this dark tunnel and what awaits me at the end of this journey of self-discovery, I don’t know and am not looking for an answer, even though traveling without a direction in the thickest fog is the hardest thing for me, but I am learning to accept, that life cannot be rushed, no matter how agonizing it may seem at the time.  I can only do so with eyes wide open, willing to see pain and see the silver lining that I am still tremendously blessed, therefore I should not give up on myself.

Patience, and sometimes, just learn to sit, and breathe.