Of the last 12 places I have lived, I did not include the time I called a campervan my home when in Australia nor did I include when my only home was the tent in my pack as I walked across New Zealand. And so, without those - this next change of address will be number 13.
I am hoping this next place of residence will be my lucky number 13. I am not going far - really just down the road a bit - but I am hoping my choice to live somewhere more affordable with a few other people in a house will allow me to have more flexibility in what I want to do with my life. Financially. Socially. Everything in between.
I find it difficult to even conceptualize all that has happened in the past few months. Since I last wrote, I have started (and nearly finished) a position of Youth Development Coordinator at work where I have been working on developing a new support service for young adults with disabilities. Between balancing that and my other role of Outcomes Facilitator (supporting individuals with their goals in life) there has been little mental energy at the end of the day for much else. Things such as my art have gone by the wayside as I have been concentrating all my time in sinking my teeth into giving 110% at work.
But I have managed to start to make some connections in the community. I've picked up rock-climbing with a weekly group, continued to go to the markets each Sunday, explored the wide-variety of food and drink in Wellington (a Cambodian restaurant has taken the top of my list), gone to Roller Disco, watched a couple of rugby games and even had the pleasure of showing my mom around this little city I call home.
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