past

‘Welcome home.’ The customs girl smiles as she hands back my passport over the counter at Auckland airport. Home. It sounds weird in my head, kind of like when you say the same word over and over again until it loses it's meaning. I’ve been back pretty much every year since I moved to Melbourne, which was almost 8 years ago now. It gets harder and harder each time and I don’t really know why, but I decided this trip would be a reflective one, and rather than avoiding thinking about past events that trigger me I would force myself to have a big old look inward and challenge these thoughts and write them all out. Also I feel my psychologist would be proud of me assigning myself homework, and it matters a lot to me that he likes me as a person because validation.

It’s really not that far away when you think about it, 3 hours 15 minutes (longer on the way back because wind apparently) which is half the new Ryan Holiday book and three episodes of Offspring. Definitely not enough time to process my anxiety about coming back and figure out exactly what the hell my problem is and why I’m pretty much bitter and irritable from the second I walk through those carved Maori archways to the baggage carousel. The thing about running away from your problems is that they will always be there waiting for you, so it feels like you’ve brought that extra luggage anyway, even though you didn't get check in because you didn't want to pay an extra $60 and also the terror of waiting at the carousel when your bag is literally always last and you are practically certain that it’s gone to a different country every single time.

I talked to my psychologist (he’s new btw so I often talk about him just like when you’re dating someone new and feel the need to insert them into every conversation whether it’s relevant or not) before I left about how worried I was about coming ‘home’ and how I couldn’t really articulate why, but upon arriving and after the third bottle of Lindauer (not exaggerating) the feelings kind of unlocked themselves and I realized how much hurt I still have from events and relationships and times in my life that didn't seem the worst ever back then but because I ‘dealt’ with them by just ignoring them all and moving to another country they now seem glaringly huge, kind of like how when you leave IRD adds all the interest back onto your student loan (dicks). I think that no matter how much I’ve tried to cover everything with muscles and tattoos there’s just some things that won’t ever go away and I don’t even know how you start dealing with age old angst and should you even bother, because you should let sleeping dogs lie or not poke the bear or whatever. But it’s like I’m surrounded by very awake dogs and bears every time I come back so it’s like either sort my shit out now or be destined to be more of an anxious wreck each time.

It sucks because I had so many good times when I was living here, but the bad times seem to outweigh them to the point that they block the view. I don’t even know how you start working through shit from almost a decade ago besides acknowledging it and hoping just that action in itself diminishes the power it holds over you. When I left Auckland 8 years ago I was 100% running away from the person I had become who I didn’t really like, a person who had zero purpose and much of anything to offer besides a good time. That whole thing, combined with the realization that just because you love someone more than you love yourself doesn't mean they’ll feel the same way back pretty much just shattered my twenty-something year old heart into a million pieces. That level of rejection sticks to you like sun-melted gum to your jandal and it’s like may as well just fucking throw that pair out coz that shit is never coming off sorry.

So maybe it’s time to actually apply some of this #mindgold I’ve been drilling into my brain for the past year or so rather than wallowing in irrelevant BS and reverting to old habits to conceal hurt around some very fucking expired events experienced by someone who isn’t really me anymore. The most relevant new thought process I think I’ve learnt to date (but that I need to keep reminding myself) is that things are only bad or good depending on your perspective. I could choose to think of my past life in Auckland as full of misery and heartbreak and allow the memory of this to fuck my brain in its ass. I could choose to think about leaving as a fail and coming back as shameful and embarrassing. I could choose to continue to harbor this age old resentment and be triggered by places and people and let it continue to ruin all future trips back home.

OR

I could acknowledge that leaving, although the hardest thing I’ve ever done, was also by far my best and bravest achievement. I could be proud of the fact that I moved to a city I’d never even been before, by myself, and completely changed my life, simply through the power of my own determination to prove I could. I could celebrate how much I’ve grown from adversity and used it to define who I am as a person, to set boundaries in my personal relationships, and to get to the point that I love who I am and firmly believe that I am worthy of love and respect. The best part is that I can continue to apply this thinking and perspective to future BS that will undoubtedly come my way, knowing that in the end it will do nothing but make me stronger, if I let it.

Before I left for this latest trip I was expressing my anxiety about it to a friend (I don’t do surface level banter). She had an awesome spin on in which was that I should think of each trip back as a “victory lap”, as in a chance to showcase the new me, rather than a stressful and unpleasant trip down memory fucking lane. I loved this take on it, and she was 100% right. I can’t change my past, but I can change how I feel about my present, which is basically that I am a resilient motherfucker who has every right to take up space in the universe, regardless of my location in it.