The birth of live a little.

I haven't made many questionable decisions, mostly, but this was one permanent decision I would carry for the rest of my life, etched on my skin in black ink.

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When I was 25 years old I boarded a plane to England. I had wanted to do this since I saw my first episode of Made in Chelsea at the age of 19.

I had a good job, boyfriend (questionably good), my family, and friends. I had never lived out of home, never lived in another country and could never of imagined leaving said boyfriend after 5 years together. But I did it.

I was at the gate with my family, my boyfriend and my aunty who kindly offered to usher me across the Indian Ocean to my new life. You cant get any further away from New Zealand than England can you?

My aunty whispered to my mum "I think its time to go". I ripped myself away from my mum and got ready to walk through, much to my aunties shock, said boyfriend shuffled along behind us. I think she was hoping he was staying behind and the crying may ease. Little did she know, he was heading to America for a holiday and his flight left 2 hours after mine. He had always wanted to go and we thought it might ease the initial shock of my departure to leave on the same day. It did for him, but not for me.

It was a traumatic hour and a half before we finally said goodbye at the entry to the plane. Bystanders watched as we kissed and hugged each other for the final time. I turned away and forced my legs to take the steps they so desperately didn't want too. I dragged myself along the ramp, my doc martins feeling like two concrete blocks strapped to my feet.

I whispered to myself words of encouragement ... "Live a little".