I am sitting on our green window seat, watching the rain fall on our garden out our dining room window. Our window. Our garden. Our house. Well, probably more appropriately, the bank’s house but still, not someone else’s investment. Ours.
It has taken nearly two years for that to sit, somewhat, comfortably with me. When we purchased the section back in December 2023 and made the commitment to build, I was, at best, hesitant. Everyone was so excited for us and I tried to match the excitement I saw in others. But behind the façade was more anxiety than enthusiasm.
My parents built a house when I was 9 years old. It went 100% over budget and contributed to some very tough financial times for my family. I was never going to build a house. Unfortunately, the logic for building was undeniable Wanaka where the housing stock is low, especially for small affordable houses, and as we knew so many good trades people (including the best builder in all the land).
However, the logical arguments for building struggled to outweigh my internal qualms. The thought of being trapped geographically and financially was oppressive. Objectively, I have won the lottery here. I have great friends, stunning mountains, and a well-paying, 4-day work week job. All I ever wanted and more. But there is still a restless part of me that observes the routine I have fallen into and feels like I am wasting my life away. The commitment to a massive mortgage and a settled life here means I can’t just quit my job when I get fed up with it and move on a whim to a different country. There are so many different skies I will never get to see because I am here, working a 9-5, and paying the greedy banks stupid amounts of interest. I also suddenly have something to lose. There is something so beautiful in the simplicity of having nothing and nothing too lose.
I think my solution to deal with my hesitation was to stay emotionally removed from the build and try and to make as few decisions as possible. Always focusing on budget and function rather than becoming invested in something I felt so unsure about. I tried to considering boring things like ‘resale’ value over fully committing to making this place a home.
At some point while moving in to our newly completed build, I got grumpy. I hate moving. I find it so confronting how much stuff we have accumulated and it stresses me out. I used to be able to fit my whole life in the back of a station wagon – now it takes three days and a trailer to go anywhere. So I was grumping at Tom about how much stuff he had, he simply turned to me (in his wise ways) and said “You know you are choosing this right?” to which I decided to be sassy and reply “What? Choosing to live with you and your 16 camera bags?” Of course he turned it back on me by calmly saying “all of it” and then left me in the attic space alone to contemplate that.
I had to swallow my pride and agree with him. I have a tendency to pretend that my life has just happened to me, that I have let fate, coincidence and circumstances just blow me along. But I have had the controls all the way. I am choosing this life because I have weighed up a bunch of options and it seems like the right thing to do with the information I have on hand. I feel like taking ownership of those decisions which we are less sure about is really hard.
A while ago I was given this beautiful compass with The Road Less Taken by Robert Frost inscribed on it by a friend. It is one of the possessions I truly cherish. I have always related to the poem due to my tendency to deviate from the norm – where it be my indie music tastes, being a female in engineering, quitting my first proper job within eight months to travel, or wanting to run stupidly long distances or ski steep faces for no justifiable reason. All of these choices put me on the road less travelled.
At many of the decision points in my life I have decided to take the hard way but in many ways that path had been more interesting or meaningful but sometimes painful and destructive. So buying in to the house and a “normal” way of life feels a little like I have just ended up back on the same path as everyone else but behind where they are. It is hard not to question if I was always just going to end up back here – what was the point of the wild, thorny, heart-breaking detour?
Sometimes I like to think about the different versions of myself that could’ve been if I have made different decisions. Not so much in a longing way, anymore, but more just mulling over key decisions that have shaped me into who I am today. I think committing to the house is good for me in so many ways but it is just so against my innate nature to want to be free and forever able to run away. I think I will always feel a bit torn about what I am giving up and what I am getting. But I am still making the decision to be here and be this current version of myself. The reason for the thorny detour was that I wouldn’t have had the capacity to the appreciate life I have now to the full, without the lessons I learnt on that path.
Now after nearly after nearly five months in the house, I contemplate what it would be like to give up this life now. To leave this house, my home. Leaving this has become the more terrifying option. I think about my plants. The little misshaped root bound half-dead bargain plants I have nursed back to health, the literal roots I have put down, and the thought of not seeing them reach their potential fills me with sorrow. I think about the solid oak book shelf we found on Facebook marketplace. It perfectly fits our books, records and a monster aloe vera plant, and can’t even begin to contemplate where those things would go if not there. Somewhere along the way I have begun to commit myself to this place more than I ever thought possible and I am willing to fight for it.
Sure, I still I get lost sometimes. Recently, I have been so busy with work I haven’t even had time to feel the existential angst caused by the daily routine. Instead, my thoughts have been less philosophical more operational, just focusing on surviving the next day or week. I have been sucked into, and thankfully spat out, by the social media vortex which preys on a tried brain with mindless entertainment. I haven’t prioritized creativity or learning or spending time with the people I care about enough. I am not always living the best version of the life have chosen.
But my goal for the now is to keep my eyes open, stay aware of how lucky I am to have the opportunity to put down roots and know that it is my choice to be here. I am choosing this life. I am trying be one person, in one place, at one point in time. I am trying to give it my all.