A few days ago marked nine months since I left Australia — a country that was my home for five years. Life there was comfortable, predictable… almost like a script I already knew. And I was okay with that — content in the certainty.
But leaving wasn’t my decision. It was bureaucracy — the kind of thing life rearranges without asking — that forced me to leave my home, all of a sudden. Just like that, I had to start over. Run into walls. Meet versions of myself I’d never seen before.
At that new beginning, I found myself “stuck in Indonesia” — just me, my camera, and a journal. My silent witnesses. With them, I documented everything: my fears, my joys, my failures, my small wins, and my dreams.
Today, I read back through those journals pages, and found my own archive.
The beautiful thing about the past is how it renews the present —
when we take the time to look at it.
I’ve filled four journals so far in this adventure. Reading them feels like driving down a winding road — each one a little town of memories: of who I was, who I want to become, who I had to say goodbye to. It moves me deeply.
Leaving Australia remains one of the hardest transformations I’ve gone through. My heart aches missing Byron sometimes. So much of my story is rooted in that place — surfing The Pass with friends, the echo of a love that stayed behind, the warmth of everyday hugs, morning coffee at the Roadhouse. The list can go forever. Life was so simple.
But life has its own plans.
And sometimes, it pushes you — without asking.
Has that ever happened to you? You find yourself standing at the edge of the unknown… And — if you really think about it — maybe that unknown holds everything you once asked the universe for. Everything you wrote down with hope in your heart. If only you dared to leap.
But that’s where fear shows up. And then you realize: The biggest obstacle is yourself.
I don’t have all the answers. But taking ownership of my life — even in the midst of uncertainty — has led me through quiet, powerful transformations. It’s been a journey of unraveling. Often uncomfortable. One day, I’m crying over something I didn’t know still hurt. And another, I find myself smiling — alone — in a place that used to feel empty.
Somewhere in the chaos, life quietly surprised me with things I never thought possible. Remote work began to flow, growth followed - bringing travels, projects, meaningful connections, and a surge of photography and creativity that brightened my days. Slowly, all the things I once believed impossible began to find me. The things I wrote in my journal once, actually started to happen.
It’s still hard to believe — because none of it happened overnight. It was saying yes when I was terrified. And the truth is… I still am.
Today, I still don’t have a map. But I feel like I’m dancing with something bigger than me. Maybe this is the beginning of the life I always dreamed of — or maybe, just another lesson I came here to learn.
I walk with my camera in one hand and my heart in the other… Trying not to live from fear.
And when I feel lost, there’s one phrase that always returns to me —as if it knows exactly when I need it most:
“Life is a labyrinth.
That’s why I invite you to fly.”
So…
What does your life look like on the other side of fear?
—
PS: I invite you to listen to this song “I'm Every Sparkly Woman - Ana Roxanne" It was playing in the background while I was writing these words.
With love,
María