It's funny how a perfectly normal day can suddenly become a nightmare, but even more strange is that it wasn't even my nightmare. Although I felt it should be, it usually is, but this time it wasn't me.
Friday was a normal day, I dragged myself up in the morning, to the gym, to work, to my next work, and then to the next one. Just the usual, painful working three jobs in 24 hours kinda crappy weekday. Untill late friday evening when I was just starting to wind down and relax at work. As people were starting to leave, and I was thinking about closing up shop, when in about 10 seconds everything changed. A young Woman walked in and rang the bell at reception, as soon as I walked through the door I stopped in my tracks recognising the (oh so painfully familiar) shaking, confused, and pretty much terrified look about her. She started trying to tell me something, but couldn't get the words out, she was shaking uncontrollably and eventually she managed to tell me that she was raped by one of the other guest's. A friend of a gal she works with, who she offered to give a lift out to our hostel as he was a bit lost in our city.
The latest incident in Florida, where a group of teenage girls attacked and beat a fellow class,ate and video taped it to put it on Myspace saddened me greatly. Girl's beating up other girl's. Just the thought of that really bothers me. Women physically overpowering another woman, and often, as I found out from a number of teenage girls (and boys) who work with me the fight is about a guy who both girls are interested in or something along those lines.
I never experienced girl's at my high school actually physically fighting with each other, although sadly we had a whole lot of verbal bashing and rumors going on, which really is no better.
Wow it has been a while since my last post, and as much as I missed this place, it was somewhat on purpose. Coming to a new country where although we speak the same language and life is very much the same in New Zealand, life up here is something different for me, not all bad, not all good either, but I have managed to work my way into a very comfortable spot where I am, in this small town, and now suddenly Im leaving in just over a month.
A lot has happened so far in 2008 for me, and I am hoping that going home I will be able to keep the strength that I have worked hard to build up while I have been away from home. It will be a short visit home, then I am off to do some more exploring of the planet, but I much needed one. I feel like I am going home a very different person than the person who first got onto the plane to escape to Canada, I'm returning on my terms and I have made that pretty clear with the folks at home.
The older I get, the less I seem to understand about the world and life in general. At five my life was about being close to my loved ones, being outdoors as much as possible and making new friends. Now I guess I really dont understand people a whole lot at all. I dont understand why men rape and beat their wives who they once fell in love with, I dont understand why children are starving and cold on the streets when there are people out shopping who already own twenty pairs of pants, I dont understand why parents are putting their children on medications to make them behave when really they are just not wanting to parent. But what makes me so angry and so confused about is how people can see all of this happening everyday and turn away from it, understand it or not, its there in our faces and it is our responsibility to turn this all around while we still can, and people just dont want to.
I am spending this week in the house I grew up in, my mothers house. We moved out of here when I was Twelve and into my step fathers house, my mother never sold this place but rented it out to a family instead. Now she wants to sell it, so here we are again. This week she is on holiday, so I am taking car of the place, and my cat, while she is away which is more than a little challenging. I am sleeping in my sisters old bedroom, as my old bedroom is the size of a closet (being the youngest and the unplanned child I lucked out on the bedroom choosing). Its odd to be back, to see the bedroom where I would come home from my fathers house and hide under that bed. Where I slept in the toy box as a little girl because I thought my teddy bears needed the warmth of the bed more than I did. This is the place where I hid as my parents fought loudly in the living room, where the police came to take away my big brother to prison, where I fell off the garage roof, while hiding up there so that I didnt have to go with the man who was abusing me who was supposed to be taking us to my fathers house.
On Sunday I will be turning 21 years old. I guess that is some sort of mile stone for most people, yet as much as I try to feel excited or proud of it I just really dont care. It's just another number, the same as it was when I turned 18 or 19 or 20. Most of my friends consider 21 to be the marker of when you finally become an adult. As though all of a sudden you have a birthday and whoa look how grown up you are. I don't. I starting growing up long before now, in fact as a child I always felt a little bit older than everyone else my own age simply because I had been thrown into growing up much to fast. 21 doesnt make me the Woman I am, it doesnt make me responsible or ready for the world. Growing old is not growing up.
Having recently become a Volunteer over at Scarleteen (Whoo Hooo!) I wanted to share my own story of how I stumbled across Scarleteen during some of the most confusing years of my life, and how that place has made such a huge impression in my life. So I guess I will start at the beginning!
My high school years were a confusing time for me for many reasons the big one for me was that I was still being abused by my fathers friend which made it extra confusing for me when I started to develop feelings toward boys my own age and entered into the world of dating, drinking and all that comes with those two. It didnâ€™t help that I hated my school, it wasnâ€™t that I didnâ€™t like the people I had lots of friends, always had a party to go to and friends to talk too much with in class, it was the school itself. I was sent to a private, all girls, catholic high school. I am not Catholic, although I was raised one but I learnt very fast that families like mine are not very welcome in the church, and I was not upset by this as I felt it was a good excuse to get out of that whole scene at a very young age much to the horror of my mother.