3 words to describe yourself in 2015: eighteen, naive, moving

Back in 2015, making the decision to move away didn’t seem like a really big deal. I knew what it meant, but at the end of the day, it didn’t seem like a crazy idea. People moved away all the time and like someone once told me, ‘Just because I’m moving away doesn’t mean things have to change.” Stupidly, like then, I believed them.

The first day of moving to the Gong was uneventful. I packed up my car, got all my shit sorted, said ‘Smell ya later’ to my Mum and step-dad (they were gonna meet me down there with some of the bulky stuff), made sure I had 1 billion red p plates on my car and set off for the about 4 hour journey to my new home.
Arriving at I-House was nerve racking, but nothing too dramatic. Signed in, got a tour, started setting up my room. My family was already there, we had dinner together, I slept for the first night in my own little bare abode.

Before Mum left, she helped me decorate my new room. She hung up the How I Met Your Mother poster while I posted some photos of some friendly faces from back home. I added some lantern lights, my Mr Bean bobble-head, my figure of Zurg. During all this, I don’t think it was until I was facing saying bye to my mum, my step-dad, my sisters and my grandma that I really realised what was going on. They would continue on with their lives, one down, and I would start my brand spankin’ new one.

My real first night I cried myself to sleep. I didn’t know anyone, they didn’t know me. I didn’t know how to get from A to B, I was completely lost, completely doubting what I had moved for. Some friends from back home messaged me asking how it was going, and of course, I lied – I sent “OMG everything is fab!!! This is amazing!!! Hanging out with a couple of new friends!” from beneath the safety of my snug new doona Mum bought me.

One night, during O-Week festivities, we had this ice-breaking event. I thought it was kinda silly and stupid but I knew I had to force myself out of my room to actually see real. human. people. And against all odds, it was a pretty good icebreaker. I met some amazing people straight up, went out to a local dive later that night and realised we had way more in common than I thought possible.

Don’t be afraid to put yourself out there. How many times do you hear of a musician saying they were thhhiiiissss close to not going to a gig or an open-mic night and a talent scout happened to be there and they finally got discovered? And at the end of the day, how many times do you really want to say ‘That could have happened to me but I didn’t go?’ NADA.
That was exactly how I felt about moving. I was a bit naive, let’s be honest, but I knew that if I didn’t take the opportunity I would be forever cursing myself.

And in all honesty, it has been the best and worst 2 and a bit years of my life. I’ve struggled with being myself and being vulnerable. I’ve struggled with having to form brand new friendships all over again and rebuild trust I really never had to question when I was back home.

But I wouldn’t have met some of the most fabulous, daring, laid-back, hilarious and down-to-earth people. None of the memories I cherish would even be in my imagination, in my headspace. I wouldn’t be living with 4 of the loveliest gals and I would not have crossed paths with my gorgeous T.

So this is to you, my new loves.
For completely going above and beyond my hopes and expectations.
You all know who you are.

TNSAKCBIDBJ just to name a few. xxx


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