A story about a girl named Pamela

“I’m sorry I said that thing earlier and if I’ve been a rubbish friend lately, you deserve so much better”

“SHUT UP PAMELA!”

Let me tell you about my friend Pamela.

For starters, Pamela is a real downer. I try not to bring her to parties because she has this way of killing the joy in the room by talking about climate change, and spelling out all the possible disastrous endings to getting married and having kids. She would also likely take at least one dig at me, usually for saying the wrong thing or eating too many crisps (guilty).

Pamela’s worst feature is how worried and anxious she is. She frets over the future, work, money, her abilities, her weight, her personality, if people like her, relationships… pretty much everything. It’s exhausting to be around.

Pamela was the girl at school who would try to bring you down to make herself feel good. Pamela had a lot of love and affirmation growing up, but she tends to not believe it’s true and only look at the bad side of a situation. Pamela is one of those people that would take a compliment, like “you look good today!”, and respond with “did I look bad yesterday?” (And not in a funny way because she would mean it genuinely, and dwell on it for a long time afterwards.)

The truth is that Pamela kind of wants to be me, which you may think sounds conceited but it’s true. She lacks confidence and feels jealous when she sees me happy and living my life to the full. She’s had some challenges in life and some incredible privileges too, but she focuses on the negatives. She’s kind of stuck in adolescence emotionally, which makes her difficult to be around. I often tell her so. We’re pretty honest with each other and sometimes I wonder why I keep her around.

I suppose that I keep her around because Pamela is me. She is my subconscious negative self-talker that will always try to bring me down when I am up (or any time for that matter). A good friend recommended that I name the negative voice to isolate it and while I’ve never known anyone called Pamela personally, I’ve never liked the name. (Sorry to all the Pamelas out there.) That’s how Pamela’s identity, outside of myself, was born on a warm summer’s day, as we ate ice-cream on the Sydney harbour.

Pamela loves to remind me of what could go wrong in any choice that I make. While our inner voice of rationality is important, Pamela takes it a step further by gently seducing me into inaction, like a rabbit in the headlights, for fear of the consequences.

Pamela tires me out. She dances around in my brain, and lack of sleep, alcohol, stress and anxiety are her fuel. When advertising, the media or Instagram gets the better of me and I can’t fight off the messages that I’m “not enough”, or I’m “doing it wrong”, she will greedily feast on my low self-esteem. Interestingly, Pamela doesn’t even start things off on those days – she just finishes what the modern day messages of society have started. That’s when I imagine Pamela with a large KFC bucket of chicken and all the sides, hungrily shoving food into her mouth with a devilish look that says “you’re mine now, sucker”.

She hates it when I am well-rested and making healthy food choices, drinking less alcohol and exercising, because that’s when I win most arguments. When I spend time with my friends who bring out the best in me, or I’m regularly in touch with my psychologist, Pamela will sulk on the bed and play with her phone. Regardless of what the outside world tells me, I know this for sure: if Pamela is bored then I am doing it RIGHT.

One thing I will say is that Pamela keeps me grounded. I will never get too big-headed as she’s there to point out that it’s unlikely I’ll ever be great at playing tennis, cannot sing for sh*t and I’m particularly bad at anything artistic. She’s right and we’ve come to a mutual acceptance about these parts of my personality. Most other things she regularly tells me are still up for debate though.

Pamela and I were closer growing up. But as I’ve made choices in the real world, and either benefited or suffered from them, these experiences have emboldened me against Pamela’s persuasive style. The older I get, the more I learn about who I am and the more settled I become with that person. Pamela had a field day in my 20s, running me ragged nearly constantly. But at nearly 32 and with my resilience coming out on top in recent years, Pamela isn’t in the driving seat anymore. (She’s in the passenger’s seat now, unfortunately with DJ rights which she is using to play Kelly Clarkson, on repeat.)

Ultimately, I love Pamela because I understand her. She is me and I am her, literally. I know why she’s the way that she is and it’s likely that we will be walking together for the rest of my life. However, every day that passes brings me closer to my goal: Pamela sitting in the backseat, with little influence over how I drive.

Telling my friends about Pamela has been helpful and we mostly laugh and joke about what a witch she is. Or sometimes they say “SHUT UP PAMELA” right to my face, and Pamela fades into the background once again.

Experiences I’m grateful for at 30 (even if some were awful at the time)

Moving across the world to a new city that I’d never been to. It taught me that I like taking risks.

Being broken hearted at Christmas time, away from home. It taught me that overnight, friends can become family and strangers can become friends.

Riding a camel in Jordan while being terrified of falling off, particularly when it knelt down. It didn’t teach me anything, I just got a really good picture out of it.

Travelling with friends. There is literally nothing better than sharing adventures with people you love.

Travelling alone. As well as being incredibly fulfilling, it reminded me that when all else fails, I am an excellent back up plan for myself.

Having a panic attack underwater while scuba diving. Because now every time I dive in the dark, I feel like an invincible kick ass unicorn that has overcome (some of) my fears.

Going on safari in Kruger Park and after hours of searching, finally tracking down the leopards. The animal kingdom is truly something to behold.

Making decisions that I knew were wrong and that would hurt people, and doing it anyway. That guilt never really goes away and will act as a deterrent to repeat offences for the rest of my life.

Repeated counselling. I would be a very different, and much more fractured, person without it.

Trying new things. Such as taking up waterpolo at 27 years old, and completely sucking at it. It was embarrassing and humbling, and taught me that it’s good to embarrass and humble ourselves sometimes.

Skydiving. There is no peaceful silence like the one at 20,000 feet above ground, and no exhilaration like that of falling, falling, falling.

Being bang average at my job in my early 20s. It motivated me to be better and to care about my growth, so I could progress in my career.

Buying a home. It taught me that I deserve good things in my life, things that I didn’t dare dream possible or achievable. It taught me to think big and be okay with striving for a life of financial security.

Being completely and utterly in love. It is a wonderful thing, even if it doesn’t last forever with a person.

Break ups. They will fucking chew you up and spit you out, but they are worth enduring for the joy of loving and being loved.

Doing a marathon. It taught me that I can do special things when I set my mind to it, and to shake off thoughts about not being the “sporty type”. I can be any type of person I want to be.

Being achingly lonely. It taught me that I was made for connection and to seek that out wherever and however I can.

Starting again, again and again. We never arrive, we only move further into our future.

Living through a once in a lifetime global pandemic. The jury is still out on what it has taught me (or any of us); it’s still going on. But if I’m not a beautiful butterfly when this chrysalis finally sheds itself, then I want my money back.

Slovenia in stories and facts

The first thing I noticed about Slovenia was how quiet it was. Getting through the airport was a breeze and once we had our hire car, there were very few drivers on the road. As a Londoner who kind of hates people (I make no apologies), it was a great start to our five night Slovenia road trip.

My next pleasant surprise was the stunning snow-capped mountains. I soon learned that 90% of Slovenia is 200m above sea level so it makes sense that you’re greeted with them soon as you’re out of the airport, and you don’t get mountains without lakes. Which leads us nicely to stop one: Lake Bled. That picturesque image of the church on a tiny island in the middle of a lake you’ve seen on the internet.

My highlights of being in Lake Bled included a sunset hike up to a viewpoint on Mala Osojnica. The timing was accidentally perfect. We hadn’t planned to achieve much on the first day except for a nap (naturally) but thanks to the spring daylight, we squeezed in this walk at around 7pm. I expected something much easier and quicker, and I wouldn’t recommend it to the less able, but the views from the top were magnificent.

Ecuador – more than the Galapagos

As some may have noticed, my writing fell off a cliff halfway through my South America adventure. I was simply having too much fun to drag myself away and pore over a blog post. But I did make sure I wrote everything down so that I could both savour the memories, and eventually share them with others. So forgive me for the onslaught of ‘throwback’ posts that are coming.

I plan to keep this travel writing stuff up, given I seem to not be capable of keeping still (despite my official ‘career break’ being over).

Anyway, here’s a post I’ve been looking forward to writing about for a while…

Ecuador is one of the smallest countries in South America and its biggest claim on the world map is the other-worldly Galápagos Islands, located just off its shores. Most people go to Ecuador to see the islands that they’ve undoubtedly seen on [insert David Attenborough production here]. Basically, it’s a wildlife/sea life heaven.

7 weeks down, 7 weeks to go

I wanted to place a marker in my blog because today is my HALF WAY point! I go home in a little less than seven weeks, which is a long time but also not long at all.

In the last seven weeks I’ve visited six new countries, caught six buses and three flights, stayed in 18 hostels and made over 40 new friends (thanks Facebook).

A day off from ‘carpe diem’

I woke up sad today. There were a number of factors – I was tired, stuck in La Paz and it was raining. My womb has also been a complete a-hole for the last couple of weeks which I’ve been successfully ignoring, but it got the better of me this morning. I really needed a hug.

I think another reason is that I was ‘coming down’ from the extreme high that adventure sports gives you. Hurtling down the Death Road yesterday was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. It’s a higher emotional fall when you started on top of the world. Literally – at 4000m above sea level! If yesterday hadn’t been so great, maybe I would’ve felt more positive this morning. What a strange paradox emotions are.

Slow travel in Colonia, Mendoza and Valparaiso

I don’t do slow travel. In 2017 we went to Iceland, South Africa and Croatia, and on all of those trips we crammed a lot in. One day in Iceland involved driving for 10 hours, and it ruined me (or more specifically, my back!). In Croatia we were moving too much to properly enjoy it, and were only able to relax once we stayed in the same place for more than two nights.

The beauty of travelling for three months is that you can take time, and every day doesn’t have to be full of doing stuff. Which I’ve been actively practising in the last three weeks…

Ilha Grande – rain, beaches and caipirinhas

After arriving in Rio and having a day to look around, we did what we always do: we escaped the city. Living in one of the biggest cities in the world means I don’t love spending time in cities for long while I’m on holiday. A couple of nights is enough time to soak up the culture and history, and then I am craving for nature.

Ilha Grande had nature and more. This car-less island comprising of one main village and dozens of white sand beaches was the perfect place to spend four nights, and we both agreed when leaving that we could’ve easily spent four more.

The proud moments

I’m the kind of person who exalts myself or berates myself at the drop of a hat (literally – I’m the clumsiest person ever). I’ve had some moments in the past few weeks for being annoyed at myself for the silliest reasons. But when I do something right, and realise that I’ve GOT THIS, I celebrate. Usually these moments evolve around navigating myself somewhere, because I am truly awful at reading maps.

A simple question with a complicated answer

The classic icebreaker question when you meet someone new in London is “so, what do you do?”. I can imagine any other big, ambitious, career-focused city is the same. When you meet someone new while travelling, the first (and most obvious) question is “where are you from?”.

I have two passports and spent my first 18 years in New Zealand. I know how to be a kid and teenager there. However I’ve so far spent all of my adult years in London. I don’t really know how to be an adult in New Zealand. Sadly, I couldn’t tell you much about NZ politics, current events or the healthcare system (which I’m not proud of!). It will be my 10 year London anniversary in May, which equates to about a third of my 28 years. I travel on my British passport nearly everywhere.