When I met CJ at a Montreal hostel, I didn’t expect to purchase a one-way ticket to New Zealand around a year later. But after months of enduring a long-distance relationship between Chicago and Toronto (where he was living at the time), and falling deeply in love, I chose the path of least resistance: a New Zealand work visa and a flight to Christchurch, CJ’s hometown.
I moved without a shred of research, convinced love would be enough to build a personal foundation in a foreign country. I was in for a shock.
I relied on my partner’s social circle, instead of finding my own
CJ grew up in Christchurch, and I lazily relied on his established group of mates to become my social circle. While they were lovely, our lives couldn’t be more different. They were buying homes and having children, while CJ and I were still in the discovery phase of our relationship.
Everything changed when I made my first American friend. We bonded instantly over the things we missed from home and the friction of life here, and I finally felt seen. This relationship opened the door to my own community, and soon I had a group of people who knew me for me, not just as CJ’s partner.
Professional isolation seeped into every facet of my life
I kept my remote US marketing job when I moved. Earning USD was great, but it meant I was physically in New Zealand while mentally and socially stuck on another continent. I had no reason to leave the house, no local colleagues, and nothing anchoring me to New Zealand — aside from CJ. That’s a heck of a lot of pressure to put on a relationship.
Eventually, I landed a copywriting role at a Kiwi outdoor brand. It was a dream job I’d struggled to find in the US. Being part of an iconic company connected me to my new home and provided me with a professional identity that finally felt like me.
I focused on assimilation instead of identity
I suppressed my “Americanisms” for years — overenthusiasm and my love of country music, just to name a few — trying to fit in. I didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb, but I was quietly destroying myself. I didn’t bring my full, authentic self with me to New Zealand, and this was a reason for my constant homesickness.
It took years, but I slowly relearned who I was, sharing parts of my life I’d packed away. I hosted Thanksgiving dinners and threw country-music themed BBQs. I celebrated where I came from, and became comfortable with where I was.
I got my happily ever after
The road to happily living in New Zealand was long and hard, but here I stand, at the other side. My own rom-com played out well in the end. My partner and I are happily married and settled, but I could have saved myself a lot of hardship if I had done things a bit differently.
I’d do it all over again, but if I could give myself one piece of advice, I’d make sure I created my own life when I landed. Creating a strong foundation for myself, one that my partner and I could stand on without fear of cracking, would have made the journey so much easier.
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