Chapter 4: Stepping Into the Life I Choose

The Turning Point Series: A Journey Through Personal Transformation

San Luis Obispo

Stepping Into the Life I Chose

Returning Home, Australia

“Change doesn’t wait for permission — it waits for your yes.”

Back home, the emotional momentum carried me forward. I made choices that felt brave and necessary — leaving a job that no longer fit, reimagining where and how I wanted to live, reclaiming parts of myself that had been quiet for too long.

The Turning Point Series: A Journey Through Personal Transformation

There’s a particular electricity that comes with the Action phase of change. It’s not just planning or dreaming anymore — it’s showing up for yourself, doing the hard things, choosing differently. This chapter of my life begins with a long-haul flight home from the US and Canada, my head spinning with everything I had seen, felt, and promised myself along the way.

The Flight Home — and the First Leap

Coming back to Brisbane in July, I was jet-lagged but crystal clear. Something had shifted. I didn’t want to just reconnect with the arts from a safe administrative distance — I wanted to live it. For years, I’d quietly tucked away my past as a dancer — even keeping my time at the iconic Lido in Paris hidden from my academic colleagues. The arts world, particularly showgirl life, didn’t fit neatly into the polished university mould.

But before my travels, I attended a Creative Arts Symposium hosted by the University of Melbourne. It was like finding a secret doorway — researchers exploring creativity’s impact on wellbeing, validating the very things I’d once hidden. It felt like I was coming out of hiding. I was finally able to say out loud: I am a dancer. And for once, it was met with respect.

So the first action? I resigned. Within a couple of hours of landing, I emailed my boss and gave my four weeks’ notice. I wrapped up my work, tied loose ends, and closed that chapter — all just in time for my 56th birthday.

Getting My Hands Dirty (Literally)

With space in my life suddenly wide open, I signed up for a wheel-throwing ceramics workshop in Brisbane. I hadn’t touched clay since high school — but the tactile, messy joy of it brought me right back. It was imperfect and wobbly and deeply satisfying. I was creating again.

Meanwhile, my husband and I were plotting our next big move: to France. Originally scheduled for November, our plans shifted when he accepted a job in Sydney. That meant months of sorting, packing, selling, and saying goodbye — and a full-on life reset. We decided to rent out our Brisbane apartment, both for financial stability and as a safety net. By November, we were living out of suitcases in Sydney.

Redefining Myself — One Sketch at a Time

Sydney gave me room to breathe. My husband was working, and I was on my own to navigate this strange limbo — not quite an academic anymore, not quite “retired,” not yet an artist in any defined sense. My kids were overseas. My career identity had dissolved. It was unsettling.

So I did what I wanted to do: I created.

I bought a sketchbook and pencils, paints and brushes. One morning, I woke from a dream and began sketching the defining moments of my life. That drawing became Learn Me Anew — a collage of paint, photographs, and memories that helped me process the wild, beautiful mess of my journey. You can see the piece in my blog post “Curiosity Didn’t Kill the Cat.”

It was the beginning of something new.

Finding Community, Creating Story

I dove deeper into art, enrolling in a painting course that offered a sampler of everything: still life, portraits, landscapes, life drawing. I found myself gravitating toward interiors — quiet, contained, and expressive. I also visited countless galleries and markets, soaking in creative energy.

At one arts fair, I met a woman selling candles in handmade glass jars. The vessels, she told me, were crafted by homeless mothers in Bali. That story stuck with me. I’d done digital storytelling before, mostly for health and advocacy projects, but I saw how powerful it could be for artists. The spark became a plan: I would run a digital storytelling workshop just for creatives.

I pitched the idea to makers at arts fair, reached out to artist friends, and assembled a pilot group. The experience was deeply rewarding — a mix of vulnerability, creativity, and connection.

France: No Fixed Address, No Fixed Identity

When it was finally time, we flew to France and landed in Nantes — a city we chose because of a friend’s recommendation, its proximity to the sea, and its strong creative spirit. We planned to rent. But with no rental history, we quickly realized we’d need to buy. We found a small two-bedroom apartment and signed the papers. With several months before settlement, we embraced our nomadic moment and travelled through France, living out of Airbnb’s and exploring the country that once was home.

Eventually, we moved into our new apartment — our first real base in this next life chapter.

Looking Back, Looking Forward

The Action phase isn’t always about dramatic gestures. Sometimes it’s a quiet morning sketch. A hard conversation. A trip to the art store. A decision to tell your story out loud, even if your voice shakes a little.

For me, it was about reclaiming my past, embracing uncertainty, and building something new — one brushstroke, one conversation, one risk at a time.

And this is only the beginning.