Chapter 1: Standing at the Edge

The Turning Point Series:

A Journey Through Personal Transformation

Precontemplation is the space where change hasn’t quite arrived yet — at least not consciously. It’s the slow burn before the spark. Life may feel frustrating or heavy, but we rationalise it. We tell ourselves we’re fine. We manage. We make it work. Maybe there’s a vague unease, or a quiet longing, but we’re not ready to name it. Not out loud. Not even to ourselves.

This is where my journey began.

A Mirror to My Life

I arrived in New York filled with excitement and nostalgia. I was reuniting with a friend I hadn’t seen in over thirty years — someone I once danced with in Paris, back when life felt wide open and full of rhythm and possibility. We slipped into conversation as if no time had passed, pouring decades of life into just a few days.

We shared stories about our children, our careers, the countries we’d called home, the relationships that had shaped us. As we pieced together our personal timelines, I started to hear something new in my own voice — a pattern I hadn’t quite noticed before.

I kept returning to how unhappy I was in my current job. How much I missed my husband and children, who were living and working elsewhere. I talked about how much I loved the work I was doing, and yet how trapped I felt — stuck in a role that offered no growth, no future, no room to breathe. I was pouring so much of myself into a system that didn’t value what I truly cared about.

At the same time, New York had this buzzing, chaotic energy that whispered anything is possible. Walking its streets made me feel strangely powerful — like maybe I wasn’t as stuck as I thought. And listening to my friend talk about her own struggles and triumphs lit something in me. Her resilience, her honesty — they reminded me that I didn’t have to keep living like this. That maybe, just maybe, there was another way.

But I wasn’t ready to act yet. Not really. I was still rationalising. Still clinging to the certainty of a steady income. Still unsure what I even wanted, let alone how to get there.

Finding My Voice Through Story

From New York, I travelled to Washington D.C. to attend a digital storytelling workshop and international conference — something I’d been dreaming about for years. I had first encountered digital storytelling back in 2020, thanks to a colleague whose passion for filmmaking was infectious. He showed me how a simple short film could hold a world of emotion, and I was immediately hooked.

At the time, I was already running a life stories project with older adults in residential care and living in the community — creating books and posters to preserve their memories. Digital storytelling felt like a natural, powerful evolution. A way to bring those stories to life. So, when I was invited to co-present at the international conference in 2022 (virtually), I jumped at the chance. And when the opportunity came to attend a workshop and the conference in person, I didn’t hesitate for a second.

In the days prior to the conference, I attended a workshop run by StoryCentre. The workshop, From Word to Image, was deeply emotional. I brought the only personal piece of writing I had — the eulogy I’d written for my Aunty. My original idea was to use dance imagery to reflect our shared passion, but when I started scrolling through photos, I found pictures of her property in Brisbane — gum trees, the dam, the old shed, the fire, local wildlife, and quiet little nooks around the house filled with light. Suddenly, I saw how these images could be metaphors for our relationship, for grief, for love. What unfolded in those two days was both cathartic and healing — an artistic unburdening that touched something deep within me.

Coming out of the workshop, I went straight into the International Digital Storytelling Conference — a whirlwind of creativity, connection and conversation. On the first day, I met two extraordinary women: wise, fearless, and endlessly curious, from Santa Fe and Toronto. They had lived and worked across the globe — the kind of women who make you feel both seen and challenged in the best possible way.

They asked me about my work. I told them everything — the excitement, the exhaustion, the stuck-ness. They listened, then asked the questions I hadn’t dared ask myself.

Why are you still doing something that makes you feel this way?

What would it look like if you said yes to what truly matters?

What would you do differently if you weren’t afraid?

Those questions lodged themselves in me. I wasn’t quite ready to answer them, but I couldn’t un-hear them either.

I left Washington D.C. buzzing with ideas and questions. My mind was spinning with possibility. I still hadn’t made any decisions — but the foundations were cracking. The stories I told about myself were starting to shift. I wasn’t just explaining my frustration anymore. I was starting to see the edges of my longing.

And once you’ve seen it… you can’t unsee it.

Tribute to my Aunty by Xanthe Golenko

Made during StoryCentre workshop, From Word to Image, June 2023.