Public Knowledge

This morning I awoke with a line of deep purple crescents on the heels of my hands. Little bruises from having my fists clenched tight while I slept. I’ve been holding on too hard, I think, to something intangible. An alternate storyline for BLOX that is not meant to be right now. 

In my dreams (awake and sleeping), we are exploring Australia: diving the Great Barrier Reef, visiting the sacred sites at Uluru, penguin and whale watching on the Coastal Drive, trekking across the vast wasteland of the outback to gaze at Burringurrah, visiting the artists on Tiwi Islands, doing whatever people do in Tasmania, so many more. Our adventure bank sits neglected, full of unattempted ideas. We’ve been encumbered by daily life: work, school, chores and errands. Working class grind has and will always erode plans made by ambitious minds. And we recognize that we are immigrants, not travelers. Our finances and schedules don’t allow for extended holidays and travel. Still, we’ve been happy here- at least content on most days. And that’s what I’ve been digging my claws into. But I’ve left bruises on my palms because there’s nothing here for us to hold. 

Great Barrier Reef from the air

I’ve leaked it to a few, more here than there, but when you’ve said “this isn’t public knowledge yet” to a certain number of people- it’s time to reckon with the fact that it’s pretty much public knowledge. And even though plans are being made and confirmed, it doesn’t feel really real yet and I am quaking at the notion that announcing it will cement the fact. 

And the fact is: we are leaving Australia. 

BLOX’s great adventure in Oz is drawing to a close. Just a few months ago, we were getting close to a breakthrough on gaining permanent residency, but a lot changed very quickly in February/March and those prospects dried up. We fought it- bowed and scraped to make a new path to the same destination, but it’s proving too difficult. Impossible, really. 

I’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating- Immigration is HARD. It’s hard for everyone, but especially for blue-collar families. People of privilege have suggested we “just” try to pay our way through another year here and the path will open back up. Sure, I’m sure it would, but we don’t have another year’s worth of money to throw at the still-slim chance that taunts us. And, as much as that- we don’t have the mental and emotional reserves left to keep fighting to stay in a place that is even more prohibitive to poor immigrants than the States. We can’t- and don’t want to- keep paying private school sums for public education, get taxed at outrageous rates, get denied for every opportunity, credit lines, job placement, and fight for recompensation on every dollar we are entitled to from health insurance, just because we are not from here. We are exhausted and broke, but not broken (though I think if we were to keep bashing our stubborn heads against staying here, it would eventually wear us to bits). 

These signs are everywhere – wish the government would get the message

Our next move is one of convenience. None of is ever considered this place- not even as a holiday destination. And yet, it makes the most sense in terms of continuing my work in the Pacific and B has passed through the first few levels of what will (hopefully) be a fantastic job/training opportunity for him. We know there will be challenges there, too, but we hope that the good outweighs the bad (and maybe some of our U.S. friends will get off their lazy butts and actually come visit us there). I feel like a big baby whining about having to move to a place that many people dream of, but here I am. 

We are moving to Oahu, Hawaii. 

Thank you all for joining us on the Big Australian Adventure. We are sad that it is coming to an end, but looking forward to our new future. 

And, as our next jump is still “over the rainbow” I will keep this blog name and format intact so you can follow along as we do it all over again. 

With that, I will sign off- leaving you with this music video that I was crying over this morning.

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