From Fire to Foundation

After losing my home in a fire, I was forced to look at life differently.

Owning an old villa had always been a dream of mine — wrap-around deck, beautiful native timber, high ceilings, and real soul. I was renting one in Taranaki at the time, sitting on an acre of land. I’d already tidied the section and planted veggie gardens. I didn’t renovate the place because I loved it as it was, and I also knew not to add value — I hoped one day I might be able to buy it. When I approached the owners, it was more affordable, but I had no savings. I had KiwiSaver. I had just finished the final year of my degree and thought, what better reward than buying a home and finally settling down a little?

I qualified as a social worker, but I couldn’t afford to buy a home. So I went dairy farming full time because it paid better and looked good for the bank. Urban girl learnt to milk cows to get through her degree, only to come out the other side burnt out and still not earning enough to cover much at all. I tried almost every bank. Declined. Over and over. The time, paperwork, and disappointment were exhausting. I almost gave up. Until one day, while out walking, I ran into a man who told me about a bank that had helped him in a similar situation. I decided to give it one last go.

It was approved. I bought my first home. I renovated it room by room and had almost finished.

And then life told me it had other plans.

The night before the fire, family had been staying. They were meant to stay another night but decided last minute to go and stay with my sister. We had just had an awesome day watching American muscle cars — one of those really good, simple days that stays with you. That same day I went to lie down for a sleep, but I couldn’t settle. I felt restless. So I decided to go for a ride on my bike. I had a Harley at the time and riding always felt freeing.

While I was at a friend’s place, my neighbour rang. When I was told my home was on fire, my heart sank. It was something so sudden, so far out of my control, that your mind can’t comprehend what’s happening. By the time I got there, it was too late. All I could do was save my distressed horse. It was like something you see in the movies. I was incredibly lucky no one was home. If I had stayed and forced myself to sleep, I would have been in that fire. If my family had stayed another night like we’d planned, they would have been there too. That reality never leaves you.

Losing everything had always been my worst fear. I was deeply sentimental. Everything I owned was chosen with intention — old furniture, paintings, and unique pieces from my travels around the world. Each item held memories of places, people, and chapters of my life. When life was hard, those things reminded me how blessed I had been to experience so much. And suddenly, it was all gone. The house was boarded up to be demolished. Almost everything I owned was inside. I couldn’t stay in Taranaki. I left.

I moved to Wellington and got a job as a social worker at Te Whare o Matairangi. On the outside, I was functioning. On the inside, I wasn’t okay. I was having nightmares. I was grieving more than just a house — I was grieving safety, identity, and a sense of home.

That’s when I met Fabiola. She brought me back into this time and space. She grounded me. She helped heal my heart ❤️💙💜 Through her, I slowly found my way back to myself — and eventually to Porangahau.

During that time, I needed something to focus on. Something practical. So instead of buying another house and taking on another mortgage, I set a goal to relocate a home and be mortgage-free. I relocated a house onto the original site. The power and plumbing were already there. I gave myself three months to relocate it, connect services, navigate council requirements, paint, landscape, and turn a concrete laundry into a massage room — going from three to four bedrooms. It wasn’t easy. I wasn’t okay. But I kept going.

I achieved the goal. The council officer said it looked like the house had always been there. But once it was done, my heart wasn’t there. So after all of that, I sold the place and bought a bare block of land — nothing on it. No house. No infrastructure. No connections. That’s how I ended up in Porangahau — a place I love — creating a life by my own design.

This journey taught me how much we attach ourselves to things we can’t take with us. It taught me that healing takes time, and that clarity often comes out of chaos. This is when I started grounding myself in simple daily practices. I began going to the gym, eating better, and doing the things I knew, over time, would help me feel stronger again. This too shall pass.

What I’m Building Now

Here in Porangahau, on Fabiola Park, I am building Arohanui — a wellness centre created with intention, love, and space. A place to come. A place to breathe. A place to slow down and believe in yourself once more.

I’ve chosen to live off-grid and sustainably, not as a trend, but as a way of life. I cut costs, reduce dependency, and live closer to the land — because I’ve learned that while we can’t take things with us, quality of life matters deeply. The systems around us are failing too many people. They are fast, disconnected, and built for survival rather than wellbeing. I didn’t want to keep forcing myself into something that felt broken. I wanted to build something different — something slower, more grounded, and genuinely sustainable.

Arohanui is fuelled by passion and grounded in purpose. It’s not about escape. It’s about remembering who you are beneath the noise, remembering your strength, and remembering that you are capable of more than you’ve been told.

This journey — the fire, the loss, the rebuilding, the letting go — has shown me that we are not here just to endure life. We are here to create it. And when everything falls away, what remains is this truth: we are powerful creators of our own reality.