One thing I have always loved about life is that you never truly know what’s around the corner.
It’s only when you look back that you can see the wonder in how each event — the good, the bad, and the ugly — is woven together to bring you to where you are now.
The hard part is seeing this while you’re in the trenches.
When life feels mundane, despairing, or downright hopeless, it’s difficult to trust that better things are coming. It’s even harder to know whether you’re meant to endure the situation you’re in — or recognise the moment when it’s time to take the next exit.
In my experience, knowing the difference comes from three things:
- a strong connection to your intuition
- clarity about where you want to go
- and an understanding that no matter which path you choose, challenges are inevitable
But despite the challenges, better things are coming.
That’s the beauty of growth.
That’s the beauty of building a life that expands with every step forward.
If you want that kind of life, you just have to keep walking.
One step at a time.
Better things are coming.
When I Stepped Onto Te Araroa
When I made the decision to walk Te Araroa, I had no idea what was ahead.
I didn’t know how challenging the journey would be. I only knew how hard it had been to walk 1,000 kilometres across British Columbia months earlier.
When I sat down to map the route, there were no official maps — the trail wasn’t finished. I didn’t have certainty, infrastructure, or guarantees. I only had an inner trust that I would find my way.
When I assessed my resources, I knew my finances were low. But I also knew that letting money stop me would mean turning my back on something I felt, deep in my soul, I was meant to do.
I didn’t know how Te Araroa would change me.
I didn’t know how it would force me to confront my flaws.
I didn’t know whether walking alongside a newly formed friendship was the right decision.
I only knew one thing: I was meant to step onto the trail.
I trusted that better things were coming.
The Long Road Back to Myself
It has taken me 15 years to fully understand what Te Araroa gave me.
Fifteen years to realise that it wasn’t the destination — it was the foundation. And that the “better things” it set in motion would take time to unfold.
On the surface, life looked fine. Admirable, even. I pushed myself, tried new things, took risks and developed thought-provoking perspectives on life that made it appear as though I had everything together.
But beneath that image, I was a people-pleaser, carefully morphing my words and actions to appease those around me. I lived with glimpses of my own authenticity, but rarely allowed myself to shine fully.
I shrank myself — my goals, my vision, my truth — until I squeezed into an image of “normal” accepted by those around me. I floated between career paths, circling the idea of stepping fully into life as an entrepreneur, author, and coach, but never quite committing.
I managed my money just well enough to survive, never well enough to thrive. I stayed fit and healthy enough to keep up, while convincing myself that the physique I had on Te Araroa wasn’t sustainable in “real life.”
I listened more to those around me than to my own inner voice. I started to believe what they had to say.
I thought my goals were too big.
That my opinions were too much.
That I needed to soften my edges so I wouldn’t make others uncomfortable.
So I shrank.
I felt I had to to survive.
Living on Autopilot
It took me 15 years after Te Araroa to realise that I had been living on autopilot.
The universe repeatedly offered opportunities to step forward and take the wheel — and each time, I chose the back seat. I told myself I was happier there.
That mindset left me with friendships with people I couldn’t trust, a bank balance that hovered just above survival, and a constant feeling that no one quite saw me for who I was — all the while still wearing a mask to avoid truly being known.
I stayed small, safe, and disconnected from my own truth.
The Moment Everything Changed
The turning point came at the end of 2024, through a relationship where, over time, I had learned to survive by making myself smaller.
I no longer recognised who I was in that life. I had slowly packed away parts of myself — my voice, my instincts, my truth — not because I didn’t value them, but because it felt necessary at the time.
I realised I had been living in a way that required me to silence parts of myself to stay safe and accepted.
What I came to understand was this: a life that requires you to abandon yourself is not a life you can grow in.
Choosing to reclaim myself meant choosing change — even when it was difficult, disruptive, and deeply confronting.
In that moment, the truth landed hard: I had to reject the life I had built — and the relationship I was in.
And that’s where growth finally began.
Returning to Who I Was Always Meant to Be
2025 has been a year of reconnecting to my intuition and finding clarity in where I want to go in life. It’s been exhilerating to let go of my people-pleasing ways and take strong steps towards my own authenticity, but it also hasn’t been without challenges.
I rebuilt myself.
I reclaimed myself.
I returned to the place where I last felt truly free to be me.
That place was Te Araroa.
Not every day. Not every step. But within that journey were glimpses of my authentic self — the version of me that didn’t shrink, didn’t apologise, and didn’t dilute her vision.
Only now, with hindsight, can I see the full picture of who I was then — and who I was always capable of becoming. And only now can I use that knowing to guide my steps forward.
Looking Ahead
2026 begins tomorrow.
And all I can say is this:
Better things are coming.
