The many tastes of love, forgiveness and the pursuit of joy
Walking along Tutaetoko Stream in the Urutawa Conservation Area.
“When I think about how that conversation with Steph has shaped me over the years, I realised ‘To feel the fear, but do it anyway’ is as much about taking that first step, as it is to let go of how it turns out in the end.”
This was my submission for Tell Me Tauranga 2023 - the theme this year was legacy. Tell Me Tauranga is a live storytelling event which has been running for several years. Although I was unsuccessful in my submission, I really enjoyed the challenge and took me back to my days at Toastmasters Whakatāne and a lot of what they taught me about storytelling. This speech was approx. 8-9 minutes.
There I was, slumped at the foot of my bed, bawling my eyes out. It was April 2016, two days after my ex-husband and I had separated. I was in our room, packing a bag to take back to my parents’ house. My legs had buckled, grieving the end of a ten year relationship. When my ex found me on the floor, he wrapped his arms around me for the last time. He whispered, "I'm sorry," then walked out of my life. We haven’t spoken in six years.
The separation blindsided me. I was 33 at the time. Two weeks after the separation, my friend Steph and I met up for a coffee. I love Steph’s booming laugh and she gives hugs that make you feel like you are wrapped up in your childhood blankie. Conversations with her are never just chit-chat, always giving valuable perspective, usually sprinkled with a giggle or two.
That day, I was angry and bitter thinking about how my ex had moved on to another relationship, while I moved back in with my parents. I was scared of the stigma of a failed marriage. I felt ashamed. Over and over I had imaginary conversations. I had a million questions to ask him, but it always came down to one - why wasn't I enough?
Steph sipped her coffee, listening, waiting for the silence. She shared the story of her own divorce and how in time, it made her better, not bitter. Part of me wanted to punch her optimism in the face, but she was right. Building a new life scared the hell out of me. To move on meant to feel that fear, but do it anyway. Of course, that's easier said than done.
If Google is anything to go by, there are usually three things women in their thirties do to get over the breakup of a long-term relationship: They write, go hiking solo or date like it’s an Olympic sport.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
I dated a lot. Definitely too much for someone who lived in a town the size of Whakatāne. Tinder was basically old classmates, workmates, and that guy from down the road my Dad’s age. Sometimes, there were gems too. I remember matching with a guy, let’s call him Brad. He was lovely, a bit old school, and he offered to pick me up on our first date. I was like, “How romantic”, my friend Tamizan replies, “Probably a serial killer Ronna.” To be honest, I don’t even know why I was dating. My life was so emotionally chaotic, I wouldn’t have wanted to date me.
Over the years I’ve learned that fear isn’t a simple ‘yes or no’, but a sliding scale. Each time I felt stuck or scared to act, I would find the tipping point. It became a big experiment. What did “still scared, but will try anyway,” look like? For a whole year, I said ‘yes’ to doing all the things I said I would do when I had time, when I had the money, when I felt brave enough. I didn’t have the ‘how’, but once I said ‘yes’, I was all in.
I tried hiking solo for the first time. Terrified my mother. Before my thirties, I didn’t do any hiking, let alone go into the bush on my own. She probably wished I just took up drinking and stayed home, just kidding, I'm allergic to alcohol. Turns out ugly breathing your way up a mountain is surprisingly cathartic. It taught me to trust myself, and what I lacked in fitness, I made up with resilience.
I still love hiking solo and do it often, and over the years I’ve started hiking with other people too. People always tell me how brave I am to hike alone, and I usually reply, ‘I am, but you can be too. You just haven’t given yourself permission to be brave yet.” Like my workmate Kim. We don’t hang out outside of work, but she keeps up with my hiking blogs and photos on social media. Last year, we were having lunch in the staffroom and she told me that hiking to a DoC hut was on her “someday” list. I asked her, “Do you want to turn ‘someday’ into ‘let’s make a plan’?” It took her a week, but she said yes.
We had two months before our hike to the Upper Whirinaki Hut. Kim had A LOT of questions, I felt like I was her personal Google at one stage. For me, getting Kim to the start of the track was already a win, not being helicoptered out was a bonus. We were a group of six and Kim and I walked at a slower pace than the others. An hour from the hut, the track became narrow and slippery. I turned away for a second when suddenly I heard a big splash. Kim had slipped, flown over the bank and into the river. She was wet and a bit shaken, but uninjured.
Kim raved about her first hut experience for months and I loved that for her. What made it so memorable is that despite ending up in the river, she actually turned ‘someday’ into a memory.
When I met my current partner, we both knew early on that it had to be a slow burn. Both of us had been single for a few years - super comfortable being single and doing our own thing. I still don’t know how much he really gets about me going into the bush on my own, just as I don’t understand how he can watch a three-hour video of a guy rebuilding a Ferrari on YouTube.
We’ve learned to recognise when we mirror each other’s fears because we both get quiet. I remember one night; we were sitting in his car about to have a hard conversation. We had barely talked for a couple of weeks and even when we did, he felt distant and uncomfortable. I heard him talk about how he felt stuck in life - he knew things had to change but couldn’t see how. Life was a hole that kept getting deeper. I listened, kept quiet, just as Steph did for me. After my partner let out a loud sigh, I found his hand in the dark, and we sat there, holding hands until it felt easier for both of us to breathe.
When I think about how that conversation with Steph has shaped me over the years, I realised ‘To feel the fear, but do it anyway’ is as much about taking that first step, as it is to let go of how it turns out in the end. This wasn’t the life I planned, but it turned out to be something better.
fivefootronna is Ronna Grace Funtelar is a graphic designer, weekend adventurer and writer. She’s a woman with a curious mind who lives for hiking mountains, outdoor adventures and finding epic places to eat cheese.