Reverse Culture Shock: A Year in Transition

As we touch down I expect to feel over the moon at being back in Australia after nine years.  But instead I’m uneasy. Everything looks familiar but feels strange.

It gets worse as I drive along the familiar routes I used to take during my divorce. I flashback to the bad memories. I feel disorientated and at night I constantly dream about the last 8 years, waking up soaked in sweat.  This is either reverse culture shock or burn out. Like so many tough times in the past, exercise has become my savior.

One day running along the beach in winter, soaked in sea spray and sweat, the haze lifts and my mind clears. There’s another home awaiting me.  I need to see all the places my Kiwi father once told me about.  To explore the wild seascapes, mountains and rainforests from his childhood adventures.  I need to live in New Zealand.


Milford Sound, New Zealand


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