From Kiwi Kid to Aussie Citizen: The Long Way Home

January 26, 2026 – the day I became an Australian citizen.

That sentence still feels surreal to type.

Not because I doubted it would happen (although for many years it felt out of reach), but because of everything wrapped up in it. Nearly fourteen years of hard work, heartbreak, growth, reinvention, and joy.

When I got the email saying my citizenship had been approved back in October, I was sitting at work toward the end of a long day. I opened my inbox and instantly I felt this overwhelming wave of pride and relief wash over me. Only two colleagues were left in the office. There were hugs, then silence. I sat alone in my car on the drive home, letting it all land.
Australia didn’t just let me in.
It gave me room to become someone new.
It gave me a life I cherish dearly.

A Distant Dream Called Australia

Growing up in Christchurch, Australia felt almost mythical. Bigger. Louder. Brighter.

It lived on the TV screen through sport. The Warriors playing the Storm. Boxing Day Tests at the MCG. Shane Warne spinning magic. Brett Lee bowling thunderbolts. Ponting and Gilchrist centuries. Sydney Harbour. Gold Coast beaches. State of Origin at Suncorp. The Bledisloe. Australia captured the imagination.

To a Kiwi kid, Australia was the big sibling. The one you measured yourself against. If you could beat Australia at something, you could beat anyone. It was also the land of opportunity, as families from my school packed up and moved over for a better shot at life.

Somewhere along the way, that place planted itself in my head as my future home.
I just didn’t yet know how.

The Earth Moved, So Did I

The Christchurch earthquakes didn’t just shake buildings. They shook certainty. They took away the landmarks of my childhood. They took away my heart and my home. Above all else, they forced decisions.

By then, I already felt like I was outgrowing the place I loved. Music dreams don’t stretch far when you’re on a small island at the bottom of the world, especially when Mother Nature takes away the only nightlife you had.

So I left.

I boarded a plane two days after my 21st birthday with a suitcase, a plan that barely existed, and the kind of optimism you only have in your early twenties.

Melbourne sealed it.
The culture. The music. The people. The coffee. Grand Prix week. Australian Open season. It felt like a city that rewarded curiosity and expression. I moved here with no job, no network, but I had a dream.

Starting From Zero

The first year was brutal.

Job rejections. Band rejections. Audition rejections. The kind that makes you stare at the ceiling at 2am wondering if you’ve made a huge mistake.
But slowly, it shifted. I landed a job. Joined a band. Found my people. I started seeing Australia through local eyes, while my accent copped its fair share of jokes and slowly began to soften. That’s when it stopped feeling like a holiday and started feeling like home.

Home, it turns out, isn’t instant. It’s built.

The Cost of Leaving

There’s a tax you pay when you move countries.
You miss weddings. Funerals. Birthdays. You watch your parents age through FaceTime. You lose people and don’t always get to say goodbye. I lost friends and family to car accidents. To cancer. Grief hits different when you’re far away. But you carry it. You keep going. That’s the deal. You made your bed.

The Crossroads

Around 2015, I almost went back.

Five years in. Relationship broken. Career shaky. Confidence shot. I went home for the summer and thought, is this it? Is this when I return?
But after a few weeks, all I wanted was Melbourne. To be back with my friends. To keep having a crack.

That’s when I knew.
Australia wasn’t just where I lived.
It was where I belonged.

A Life I’m Grateful For

Fast forward a few years, and the world’s longest lockdown later, I’m engaged. I’m a dad. I live on the beautiful Mornington Peninsula in Victoria. I’ve built a career. I’ve built a community. I’ve built a life.

So when I stood there and pledged myself to this country, it wasn’t just symbolic. It wasn’t just the opening of a new chapter. It was gratitude.
Gratitude for the country that gave me this incredible life.
Gratitude to my whānau back in New Zealand who helped get me here.

Australia has given me more than I could ever repay.
But I’ll bloody well try.

Thank you for welcoming me.
For challenging me.
For backing me.
For giving me the space to grow up.

I’m proud to call myself Australian.