Although I had a traumatic childhood, and life had been tough for me, until the age of 25, in the past 2 and half decades I have fallen on my feet, as it were, and these days enjoy all the comforts of a middle-class middle-aged married woman, who has raised 2 children, who part-owns a couple of properties, and spends good money on good food and good shoes. I have passed through the treacherous waters that is a "mid-life crisis", have seen my kids out of home into independence, and I have embraced the uncomfortable facts about ageing and losing the youth I never felt that I had quite experienced. I have welcomed the next phase of this adventure, life, and have undertaken projects and pursuits which have greatly enhanced and extended me as a person.
It doesn't end here though...so I've found.
The odyssey, if you like, is just beginning.
Somehow, I have managed to find myself neck deep in the quest to become a teacher, a goal I have had tantalisingly dangling in front of me for pretty much all my life. It never went away, properly, in spite of me dodging its inevitability over the years. I even enrolled in a Nursing degree, completing 1 year, and worked as a part-time nursing assistant for a few years, (which I loved). The nine years I spent working in a supporting role as an integration aide were fulfilling and challenging in many ways, but only served to remind me of what I hadn't yet become, and might yet be. Like a thorn in my side, the "vocation" kept "calling" me back, to an idea that was birthed in my heart, at the age of 18.
And so, here I am, doing what I said for a decade I probably wouldn't do, working my butt off to get into a position where, as a middle aged woman, I will then be working even harder to find and keep that elusive teaching job, which, I fully believe, will be very tough work!
I smile as I write all this... I have always had a love/ hate relationship with the idea of "hard work". I hate that people can find themselves in situations where their quality of life is severely hog-tied by the fact that they can not get a job where they are valued, where they feel useful, and where they enjoy the fruits of their labours. I have worked in such jobs only once or twice in my life, but I know many who do this, year in year out. They pay their bills, they go to Bali, they see their 'super' grow. And they stay grey inside. You don't see them all week, and you know that they won't have one single thing they could tell you about their working week that was interesting, or different. They might be grateful for their job, but did their job feed their soul, did it extend them as a person? Isn't that 40 + hours a week they could have been getting meaning out of life, instead of feeding the capitalist machine?
Ok, apart from the obvious "socialist" flavour to my sentiments here, I am really not judging your values, but I am reading my own feelings into the "worker-ant" take on life...and I know it was never meant for me...
...And so this is what I'm doing...
Half-way into a teaching placement at a well funded school in an extremely low-economic area, and my world is turned upside down, yet again, I have to say, I wouldn't be anywhere else for all the tea in China. I wouldn't be doing anything else. The richness of experience I am enjoying right now tops anything I have ever done. I have to write lesson plans and deliver them next week to the toughest audience I have met yet. Forty kids, MOST of whom have had to endure trauma and suffering that no children should ever have to. Things that sadly, I can personally relate to. And I adore these kids. I know each one's name, and although many have emotional, behavioural issues, I can also visualise them as becoming wonderful adults.
I know I haven't bitten off more than I can chew. Yes, I have assignments pending, yes, I have an infection in my sinuses, I am sleeping poorly, and I am emotional, BUT I am... I am GROWING....and since when did growing ever feel comfortable?
Friday, May 17, 2013
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
I'm not sure why...
I'm not sure why, or how, but out of about 10 of us, one of us has had a tougher life than most. I suppose the odds were there. I should be one of the statistics. I know I should be.
I was the one with the single mum, who had lots of "uncles", who grew up way too quickly.
It was a tough neighbourhood. Actually, it was a buffer zone in a tough neighbourhood, where the streets were full of post war nanas and young families. The odd state house meant families like mine lived there as well, but we were well assimilated.
So why Debbie? She had 2 parents, a big sister, security all her life, so I had thought. Only now do I begin to unravel her life, though, and it turns Debbie had a drug dependency. Out of all of us, she was the one to fall prey to an addiction. It could have been any of us then, and I wish we could go back in time, and straighten ourselves out, and make a pact to not let it happen to any of us.
Debbie died this week. I knew she had been having seizures, but I did not realise the extent of her illness. Her big sister, who I had spent some wonderful hours with only months ago, told me about the seizures, and possible tests, and looking back I think she knew her little sister was on borrowed time.
I can't go back to New Zealand in time to say farewell this Friday. It is only a few days away, and my tight teaching practicum schedule means I can't dash away quickly. I would give anything to be there with Cherie this week. She has turned out to be a lynch-pin amongst us; unmarried, no kids, Cherie has lived a very full and interesting life, and is no less warm and devoted to her family, possibly even more so than many. She values the worthy things in life. And she's bright, generous, and tonnes of fun. I'm so glad to have her back in my life after decades of separation.
She looked after me so well in Auckland last year; nothing was too much trouble for her. We swanned about in a big black mercedes, talking nine to the dozen, trying to fill in all those years of living our individual years...
Catching up with those girls at the reunion in December meant we have open channels of communication again. And it was meant to be.
I will go back and see Cherie, as soon as I can, over this next year, and we will sit down and reminisce about our childhoods, in that healthy, healing way that people do. Hayley and Christine, maybe Karen B, Alison, Karen L, even Lizzie might be there. And Marcus. I hope we can all be together again, even if just to say goodbye to Debbie, who will be very much missed. I cannot quite believe that one of us is gone, already. We are all in our late 40's now. She leaves two teenage boys. Cherie will be all she can be to them, and is already anyway. What an amazing sister.
We will miss Debbie, who leaves a big hole in our midst. She was a bit of a naughty scamp. Bye Bye Debbie x
I was the one with the single mum, who had lots of "uncles", who grew up way too quickly.
It was a tough neighbourhood. Actually, it was a buffer zone in a tough neighbourhood, where the streets were full of post war nanas and young families. The odd state house meant families like mine lived there as well, but we were well assimilated.
So why Debbie? She had 2 parents, a big sister, security all her life, so I had thought. Only now do I begin to unravel her life, though, and it turns Debbie had a drug dependency. Out of all of us, she was the one to fall prey to an addiction. It could have been any of us then, and I wish we could go back in time, and straighten ourselves out, and make a pact to not let it happen to any of us.
Debbie died this week. I knew she had been having seizures, but I did not realise the extent of her illness. Her big sister, who I had spent some wonderful hours with only months ago, told me about the seizures, and possible tests, and looking back I think she knew her little sister was on borrowed time.
I can't go back to New Zealand in time to say farewell this Friday. It is only a few days away, and my tight teaching practicum schedule means I can't dash away quickly. I would give anything to be there with Cherie this week. She has turned out to be a lynch-pin amongst us; unmarried, no kids, Cherie has lived a very full and interesting life, and is no less warm and devoted to her family, possibly even more so than many. She values the worthy things in life. And she's bright, generous, and tonnes of fun. I'm so glad to have her back in my life after decades of separation.
She looked after me so well in Auckland last year; nothing was too much trouble for her. We swanned about in a big black mercedes, talking nine to the dozen, trying to fill in all those years of living our individual years...
Catching up with those girls at the reunion in December meant we have open channels of communication again. And it was meant to be.
I will go back and see Cherie, as soon as I can, over this next year, and we will sit down and reminisce about our childhoods, in that healthy, healing way that people do. Hayley and Christine, maybe Karen B, Alison, Karen L, even Lizzie might be there. And Marcus. I hope we can all be together again, even if just to say goodbye to Debbie, who will be very much missed. I cannot quite believe that one of us is gone, already. We are all in our late 40's now. She leaves two teenage boys. Cherie will be all she can be to them, and is already anyway. What an amazing sister.
We will miss Debbie, who leaves a big hole in our midst. She was a bit of a naughty scamp. Bye Bye Debbie x
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