While I prepared for my trip from California, I thought the mere celebration of my birthday in a foreign country was excitement enough. I didn’t think too much about what I wanted to do, for I thought I’d never be without activity. At that, wherever I would be was better than where I was, so why worry?

I had three WWOOFing experiences during my time in Aotearoa, but I must admit, Gilly's involvement in the third one made it the best.

All three experiences occurred in close quarters with each other, but I’d arranged the final one before I left California.

I was initially contacted by Ruth, who I’m insistent is one of the kindest souls I’ve ever encountered. After my week with her, she arranged for me to help out at the Stubbs’ farm.

When I told my bus driver I was hopping off in Waitomo, he responded, “Why? The only thing to do there is Blackwater Rafting. You’ll be bored out of your mind, but good luck.”

I didn’t let his negativity sway me. He didn’t know about the connections I had in Waitomo who assured my lack of boredom.

To my surprise, hardly anyone else knew this was a filming location for Narnia. I didn’t realize I’d be the only one excited about that aspect, but no matter. The mind of the fantasy author is not one to be questioned or tampered with, and just as I did as a child through the forests of Yosemite, my mind took me into the world of Narnia.

A week wasn’t a week in New Zealand unless accompanied by at least one major mental breakdown. Each meltdown came in waves, and fear always acted as its driving force. I’d suffered through Auckland and feared I wouldn’t enjoy the trip — only to find the Williams. I then got comfortable at their residence until it came time to face the fears again.

During my research about ways to save money in New Zealand, I found Willing Workers on Organic Farms, or “WWOOFing.”

Part of the comfort zone I stepped out of coming to New Zealand revolved around my work life. I knew how to do what I was familiar with, but I wanted to learn what else was out there.

My original plan upon arrival in New Zealand was to check into the hostel, buy a ticket for the Sky Tower, and jump off of it.

I even booked my hostel right next to the Sky Tower so I wouldn’t get lost.

People didn’t think I could survived this trip, and I wanted to make a statement, start bold and do something that evoked adrenaline and proved I could do whatever I wanted.

The day I left for New Zealand, I woke to the sound of my mother vomiting.

My eyes snapped open.

Oh no… She won’t be able to see me off at the airport with Dad!

I detangled myself from my sheets and sprinted into the living room.

That problem intensified when I found Dad vomiting over the sink, as my mom had claimed the bathroom.

The night I changed my life, I turned out all the lights. I embraced the darkness that fought to keep me bound in chains, circled candles around me, and summoned forth enough light to be bathed, but not enough to be consumed. I sat with a beating heart, my mind alight with an unfathomable number of questions. How can I make a change to my life? How can I make the best of this broken heart? Why can’t I seem to find any happiness?