Tag: life

To this year’s theme of intentionality

Whāia te iti kahurangi, ki te tuohu koe, me he maunga teitei

Seek the treasure that you value most dearly, if you bow your head, let it be to a lofty mountain. 

My theme for this year is to be intentional, and when I decided on it, I didn’t fully grasp the entirety of what I was trying to say. I’ve been doing my social work placement at an iwi-based kaupapa, and it has taught me so many valuable insights.

In Te Ao Māori, being intentional can mean slowing down, being thoughtful and mindful with your actions, and moving with awareness of the hau, the breath of life that connects us to the world around us. It’s about recognising that every action carries energy and navigating the balance between tapu and noa, honouring both the sacred and the everyday in our interactions. To put it simply, and in the words of one of the kaimahi and uri of Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei, tapu could be something like having a bad day, and to break this tapu you might go for a run – that’s noa.

This illustrates how tapu and noa are not only spiritual concepts, but also woven into daily activities. So, taking the time to act with care and presence honours not just yourself, but everyone who crosses your path.

I know that, with the busyness this year has brought, being intentional has sometimes slipped through the cracks. I started my full-time Masters in Social Work while working full-time, which dropped to 32 hours per week, then to 8 hours per week due to uni block courses, and eventually my contract wasn’t extended as I pursued a 10-week unpaid placement. The moral of the story is that, with uni, mahi, assignments, training, and now full-time placement, some things had to give. I was often coming home stressed, emotional, and under pressure, which affected my flat dynamic and the amount of time I spent with my kurī, Miso.

Since becoming more mindful of my energy, and thinking less about ego and FOMO and more about priorities, I’ve started stepping back into the lens of being intentional, not just through actions but also by taking in everything around me. Slowing down. Making space for the things that matter. Stepping away from my assignments when procrastination hits, listening to my body when it comes to working out, picking up the guitar and singing a waiata, practising self-care, meditating, treating myself to a café-bought coffee, doing contrast therapy with my mate Shai, Pilates at my friend Lou’s studio (shoutout to both of them for letting me use the facilities for free while I’m a pōhara student), calling my mum and brother for a kōrero, going on longer walks with Miso, spending time with friends, reading books again, going on dates, planting fresh herbs, or enjoying a couple of hours at my favourite brewery.

Connection is so important, and sometimes we need to step back from pressure and expectations to embrace the passion again.

Things come and go, but getting ahead in my career, being the best dog mum a gal can be, and passing my Masters won’t be in vain.

Some key takeaways I’ve heard from people along the way recently are:

  • Reassess before you guess, never assume, always ask.
  • Do everything with intent and with purpose.
  • It’s not about the doing, it’s about the posture in which you do it.
  • Better to pray to be prepared than to pray it comes.
  • Anxiety cannot live in the same space as a breath.
  • A lot of people are about action rather than creating a sense of safety for others.
  • Words matter, choose them wisely.
  • Leadership is not about being in charge, it’s about taking care of those in your charge.
  • Perception is a powerful thing.
  • Focus on the small wins; they are often much more rewarding.

With Mental Health Awareness Week coming up in Aotearoa, I’ve been reflecting on Me Aro Tonu – Take Notice, one of the five pou highlighted by the Mental Health Foundation. It feels especially timely, because intentionality is about noticing what is around you, how you are feeling, and how your actions affect others. It’s about showing up fully, being present, and honouring the people, spaces, and culture around you. Moving through life with purpose and slowing down to notice the small things.

This year has reminded me that intentionality is a practice and that living thoughtfully is one of the most meaningful ways to connect with myself, my wider whānau, and my community.

To those who are facing trauma

Lately, I’ve been hearing more and more experiences of people carrying trauma, whether recent or deep-rooted. And it’s got me thinking that everyone is fighting a battle. Whether loud or quiet, visible or hidden, heavy or seemingly small, it’s still a battle.

One of the most important things I’ve learnt, especially training in trauma-informed care as a social worker, is never to diminish your pain because someone else has it worse. Never shrink your story in comparison to someone else’s. Trauma is trauma. It’s all relative.

Whether you were raised in a home where violence was the norm, whether you’ve lost someone who meant the world, or whether you’re trying to make sense of heartbreak that still lingers longer than expected, your experience matters and your feelings are valid. You don’t need to justify them.

What I’ve come to understand is healing doesn’t come from suppressing the hard stuff. It comes from sitting with it. Letting yourself feel it. Allowing yourself to be uncomfortable, and learning that even in discomfort, you are safe and supported, even if it doesn’t feel that way.

I’ve carried my own trauma too. For me, it centres around my father. Or, more specifically, his absence. He was never really present. Never played with us. Never really held us as kids. He wasn’t there through the dark times, and he’s never supported my brother and I emotionally or financially – beyond the basic child support, which stopped the moment it legally could.

That absence left a hole. It shaped how I moved through the world, constantly craving validation, struggling with self-worth, and entering relationships, already preparing for them to fail. I didn’t want children for the longest time, and then when I finally came around to the idea, before dating anyone, I’d think, ‘If we have children and then broke up, would we co-parent well?’ Because I didn’t want my future children to feel what I felt. And that’s not love. That’s trauma talking.

I’ve had my share of toxic patterns. I’ve stayed in relationships longer than I should have. But one thing I’ve never done is cheat. Loyalty, for all its weight, is one of my strengths. And that’s mainly due to the fact that I don’t want to be like my father, as well as fundamental values.

It’s no surprise that every therapy session circles back to him. And now, years later, the same man who wasn’t there for me, who blew his inheritance, and who contributed to my wounds asks me for financial assistance to help him with food. And I give it. Because how can I not? What kind of person would I be if I didn’t? I’ve inherited manaakitanga (hospitality and care) from my mum and Gran! That value is stitched into my being until the day I die.

My last visit with him wrecked me; I felt like I was working as his social worker, trying to find solutions to his problems. It ends up being all about him, and if and when he finally asks about me, it doesn’t even feel like he’s listening.

The moral of the story is your trauma is valid. You don’t have to shrink it or apologise for it. Acknowledging it doesn’t make you weak; it makes you human. And healing? It doesn’t come all at once. It comes little by little.

There may be pain in the night, but joy comes in the morning.

So, if you’re walking through something right now, whether it’s heartbreak, grief, anxiety, abandonment, or whatever it may be, know that you’re not alone; you’re not broken beyond repair; you’re worthy of healing. Be gentle with yourself; that’s where it begins.