23/08/2026
Blog # 7: (it's a long one!)
Finding Home In Ōpunakē: The Quiet Years.
>Reflecting on small-town coastal life, standing out and learning to find my voice on my own terms.
There is a distinct kind of beauty in a small, coastal Taranaki town. You have the wild coast on one side and the massive backdrop of Mt Taranaki on the other.
It’s the kind of place where you are just meant to “be a kid.”
But when you move from a tight-knit Pacific Island setting to a town where yours are essentially the only brown faces besides the local Māori kids, you notice it. You navigate different rules. You stand out, whether you want to or not.
For me, that environment didn’t make me loud. It made me retreat.
The opinions of other people used to bother me to the point where I would go a whole day without saying a word to anyone, including my own family. Which is why those close to me would refer to me as 'the quiet one' or at one point in my early teens, 'the mute'.
And this was me growing up. It was the norm and I just played into it. I grabbed hold of it because it was my way of coping with whatever was going on in our busy family life. It also created a deeply rooted anxiety, one that was masked by my ability to hide it from my family, but also use it to get out of doing things. Family outings, making conversation or small talk. But it never helped me get out of doing those stacks of dishes!! Large families - I see you.
I guess that anxiety stemmed from a deeply rooted fear of just being visible. When you are already the odd one out in a small town, every word you say feels like it’s under a microscope. So, staying quiet became my armor.
I also think some of that anxiety has carried over into my adulthood, shaping the way I present myself and how things that I perceive are profoundly quite different to others. Some call it perseverance and resilience. And others would call it surviving and developing skills that might come in handy one day.
But that’s not exactly the thought process of a teenager. Well, not me anyway. I used to watch episodes of Dawson’s Creek or One Tree Hill and think, wow the way they talk is super confusing!
And I’m sure it has created something else too… Wit? Sarcasm? You be the judge. The truth is, as an introvert (and a Capricorn), I don’t stay quiet out of shyness. I do it to save my energy. If a situation doesn’t match my logic, I don’t waste my breath. Plus, sometimes staying quiet is just a mercy tactic- because if I actually speak up, my absolute honesty might just hurt some feelings. And it has.
Do you hear my voice when you read this? Does it sound like me? Have you ever witnessed me saying more than two or three words? Congratulations! You are one of the few that I have opened up to and let in, to the world that I keep safe and small.
And I think I still sound like a 16-year-old and I guess there may be some sort of psychology behind that. Have I gone and researched more about that part specifically? You bet I did. But I’ll leave it for another blog.
The point is, there is a reason why some people, like me, are not as talkative or receptive of gossip or small talk. It’s because I loathe it. I am more likely to talk your ear off about some far-fetched topic about why the supermarket is trying to con you into thinking their deal is better than the others (Spoiler alert! They are all in on it. Franchise supermarkets have a quota or a list of priorities to tick off and guess what, customers and their welfare are not at the top of the list). I don’t mind public speaking either but get me in a small space with 5 other people, ooh girl, I will cramp up like a bad case of gastro. The anxiety rears it's ugly head and says, "Heya! Remember me?!"
It comes from several years of practicing to be polite and courteous to others, respecting my peers and elders of the church, and making conversation with parishioners when all you really want to do is chug the communion juice and eat the bread. All because I skipped breakfast trying to make sure you ironed your black skirt only to find your younger sister is wearing it, so you end up wearing the outfit you wore last week… Would I go back and change that experience? Not for all the money in the world!
Humble Beginnings
People keep telling me my business is inspiring, which is both a powerful thing to say to anyone let alone to little ol’ me… and hilarious. Because my formative years were fueled entirely by church-hall logic and survival instincts.
Before I became the master of high-volume baking, I was part of the newly crowned ‘PK’ royalty in a town with very few brown faces, learning how to teach Sunday School while simultaneously trying not to look as confused as the kids. Heck, I was still a kid myself! This town is where I used to call, home: Ōpunakē. Surf Highway 45.
If you didn’t know, PK stands for Pastors Kid.
Back in the late 90s, my late father was called to ministry (called to serve God) and all of a sudden our 9 member family were thrust into a town that knew you before you even arrived. We went from one place starting with the letter O, Ōpoho, to another - Ōpunakē. I lived there for most of my teenage years, from age 12 to 16.
It was bizarre. Yet, it was nice to know that even though it was a huge thing shifting to a place where you know no one at all, they all seemed to think we smelt good, I mean really smell good. Which was also quite weird.
For a 12 year old, I was worldly-wise, so I figured that either these people, the church, were desperate for a Minister OR the other thing. You know, when you are overly kind and nice because you don’t want to offend anyone.
Looking back now, I knew that these people were the ones that were the real deal. They gave us a home away from home and welcomed us to their neighbourhood as if we went away on holiday and they welcomed us back.
Losing my Dad a few years ago changed how I look back on those days too, but it also made me realise just how much that community anchored us. They looked after his family when he was called to serve, and they showed us what true village support looks like.
This was where I think I developed the notion that hard-work really does pay off. I joke about PK’s but it wasn’t all that bad. I actually enjoyed it. My siblings may have had different experiences too and that’s ok. We have fond memories of that place and we would always crack up at the jokes that also stem from the ‘incidents’ that only hold true if you were there. Our cousins also loved that place too when they would visit at Christmas. Midnight ‘Goonie’ rides and a massive water-fight are some of the memorable highlights for me.
Humble roots? Perhaps. I didn’t have the hard teenage rebellious years personally. I was a good girl. I did my duty as a daughter and member of our family and I was happy. When I was tasked with leading Sunday School when my older sister left for university, I dreaded it!
Could it be the bratty church kids and their twenty million questions about why this and why that? Or was it the creative dances we would make up on our own, to help fill the gap during family time of the church service?
Although, I did enjoy this part for some reason. It may also be because it helped me figure out why people always marvel at how well behaved and mannered all 7 of us siblings are. We didn’t even get a pep talk before church. Well, maybe just our youngest brother, but he was still learning how to behave in a church setting. We just knew our place and that was to support our Dad - and survive the first church of the day. Yes, you read that right.
On some Sundays, we would travel either 70km north or 80km south to attend and take service to the parishioners who lived in the remote coastal and inland towns. They were very quaint church buildings, very old and one of the benefits of all that travel was catching up on sleep. Oh and the delicious home baking the farmers wives would bring for the cuppa tea. I thoroughly enjoyed learning all the hymns and re-enacting the Nativity Scene three or four times at Christmas time. I also liked it because it was role play and you get to act like someone else. That was my headspace at that time.
Looking back now, I realise that it wasn’t just church culture. It was an intense decades-long course in logistics and crowd control. And that was 20+ years ago. Yes, I’m showing my age here.
People may look at my small business today and ask how on earth I manage to pump out massive volumes of baking, co-ordinate community stalls and handle high pressure catering orders from a single home kitchen without losing my mind!
The secret? If you can successfully keep eight to ten distracted church kids distracted with a homemade creative activity on a hectic Sunday morning, managing a hundred pieces of catering is a walk in the park.
Those early days taught me how to work with what I got, solve problems on the fly and show up for people with a smile, even when things are chaotic behind the scenes. I didn’t have a corporate business degree then, I had something better: church-hall survival instincts. And my siblings probably see that and sympathise with me when I say that we lived in that church. We would hang out there all the time. That’s where I learnt how to use a photocopier and stack chairs and tables in record time!
And honestly? Pumping out hundreds of fresh coconut buns and trays of brownies is a lot quieter than a room full of kids asking one million questions like why the tooth fairy isn't in the Bible, or if the sky is blue then why is the grass green?... which has everything to do with Science and not so much with Creation. In my opinion...
Sometimes, the skills you learn when you’re just ‘living in the moment’ as a kid are the exact ones that anchor you when you’re running the show as an adult. It’s also something that adults are still living in or surviving from.
So, we all have our own stories and experiences. I am simply sharing my story in the hopes that it gives you a tiny bit of what goes on in my head and why I do the things I do, in case you were curious. I did say in previous social media posts, that this is what I was going to do, showcase the life of an entrepreneur and I guess this is the way I am doing it. Away from Instagram and Facebook so you (and I) aren’t distracted by the other scrollable trends or fads that sap all our energy.
