Blood, Fire and Spirit. (Part 19)

 

Tuesday 11th August 2020

I'm going to take you back in time a couple of years for this one taking you back to part way through 2018. I had just been offered a  new position at a service in Pakenham which I had visited on a couple of occasions already as relief staff. The center was amazing and to be honest, it would have to be to leave the service that I had already been working for the last few months where I had made quite a name for myself  as an Educational Leader and fitted in well with all the amazing educators that I was working with. 

Pakenham had that wow factor, it had a beautiful front foyer and welcoming staff that made you feel comfortable straight away. The yards were amazing, especially the Kinder Yard and I was just awestruck with the way the management team related to the Educators there. It was something that i had missed over the previous last year. When I was offered the position, I jumped at it and within a week of being there was called into the back office. I sat down with the Director and her second and was asked how I felt about the service. I told nervously them (no one enjoys being called into an office anywhere as it doesn't always end in good news and I had had my share of bad news in that previous year) that I was feeling really good about the move and felt like I was getting along with everyone really well. The Director seemed happy with that reply and went on to say that she had heard nothing but great things from all the educators and families that she had spoken to. She then went on to offer me a role as Room Leader for her Big 2s room. I hadn't room lead a two year old room before and was not sure how my style of teaching would relate to this age group but I was up for the challenge. My reply to her was pretty typical of me, "Let me think about that for a moment...Ah, yes". 

So, it was decided, I spent the next week doing handover with the previous Room Leader and met my two amazing assistants. One thing that I can always say is that I have been very lucky in my life to have some awesome assistants. Jess and Elvie were two of the finest. We clicked together so well and turned the whole room around. Quite literally, we redesigned the room, redesigned the focus in the room and concentrated on doing lots of mini projects focusing on each Childs interest.  Before long we had the children talking about subject matter that they hadn't even thought of before but taking it home and telling their parents. I'll never forget the conversation that I had with a mum during that time all excited about something she witnessed her son doing over that weekend. She told me that she found her son drawing a picture of a man, she decided to ask who the man was. The child thought for a moment and replied "It's Neil Armstrong", bewiled she asked, "Who's Neil Armstrong"? Her almost 3 year old looked up and said "He was the first man on the moon". The Mum told me that she was so surprised that he knew this and had to Google to see if he was right. 

It was during this time I had noticed one of the parents who brought her child in always came in wearing a Salvation Army top. Having been a Salvo many years before, I wasn't sure whether to approach her or not feeling anxious because of being transgender. Sounds stupid now looking back, but she almost scared me because I was worried how she would react if I ever had her child in my care. I didn't know if she was an officer or someone who worked in one of the Thrift Shops, I just knew she was a Salvo. 

As time progressed, towards the end of the 2018, we started transitioning children to get them used to their new rooms. As luck would have it, one of the children was the child of the Salvo lady that I was more or less avoiding conversation with. This child was an absolute ball of energy and a joy to have visiting in my room over the course of the transition period. One of the days, I noticed her sitting in a big wooden box that I had in the room. The children would usually build it into a cubby house or something similar, but here was this child doing something totally different. I approached the child and asked her what she was doing. Firstly, I should explain that she was sitting in this box with a block in her hand moving it from left to right and making some odd noise. The child looked at me and said these immortal words, "I'm driving to Church, do you want to come with me?" 

That was definitely an OMG moment, it was like she knew that I was having problems with communicating with her Mum while at the same time knowing something that I was desperately missing. If you have read previous parts to my journey, you would now how much the Salvation Army has meant in my life and here was this child inviting to drive me there. I didn't get to tell mum that night and wasn't sure how to approach her about it but knew that she had to know. Its a tradition with most centers that they have their end of year break up party for the kids and families. I noticed Mum was there and decided that now was the time to tell her what I saw. 

Mum looked at me, smiled and said, you need to come. I told her about my  reservations and that I didn't want to make any of the congregation feel uncomfortable  with my presence. She explained to me that Pakenham Corp has some very progressive thinking Officers and that they would love to have me there. Sure enough, the next time I saw her at the center she told me that she had spoken to her officers about me and they reiterated her feelings saying that they want me there. I got some details from her and told her I would thing about it. 

One Sunday morning she messaged me and told me that she had had a dream that night that God had told her that she needed to tell me that I had to be there today. I'm like really, why today especially? She told me she didn't know but she had past on the message and done her part, the rest was up to me. I asked her what time the service started and she replied that it started at 10am. I'm like, it's 8:30am now and I'm still in bed. 

Somehow, in an hour and a half, I managed to jump in the shower, get dressed and drive the 30min drive to Pakenham to arrive a couple of minutes after 10am. I walked into that hall and although I can't quite explain it but I felt home straight away. The Mum came up to me and asked me to sit with her and I did. I remember standing up singing the songs that were being projected on the screen and thinking this feels right. Every so often, one of the lines in the song were being amplified at me from the mum with an occasional wink to say, that's you. 

During the service, they had a commitment ceremony  which is like the Salvation Army version of a baptism. The family that was dedicating their baby was from Nigeria, I at that time had just met a Nigerian girl online called Lara. I'm like, what are the chances that in the middle of Pakenham, on the day I attend church for the first time in years a Nigerian child is being dedicated. The sermon began and it was all about Inclusion and Inclusive practice partially in relation to the church and how in the past they have ignored certain people and that time had passed. One of the songs we sung after the sermon and to end off the meeting was from one of my favorite Christian artists, Michael W Smith. That was it for me, if I needed any other signs that I was meant to be there I would have just been trying to avoid the unavoidable. 

After the service, I was introduced to both the officers and straight away, I knew what the Mum was tying to tell me. They were both so down to earth and full of compassion. The rest of the congregation introduced themselves to me one by one over a cup of coffee and a plate of biscuits and the feeling of finally being home again hit me. Over the following weeks I became a regular fixture around the Corp and one Sunday, I decided to give my testimony about how I had been searching, wanting and hoping to get back to church but was worried about how I would be received as a result. I went on to say that from the moment I walked into Pakenham Corp, I felt immediately at ease and that was a testament in itself to the congregation that had built that and I thanked them for allowing me to be with them. 

I was surprised at the end of it when some of the older Salvos came over to me after the service and told me that I'd really touched a place in their hearts and began thanking me. From that point on, Pakenham was my home and although I was working in Pakenham and traveling 30mins each day for work, I was more than happy to do the same on a Sunday to be with my Salvo family. 

During this time I have made some amazing connections that I know will last a life time and some unfortunately ran out when my usefulness ran out. Some lessons are very hard to learn at times and although I was getting warning signs from friends around me along the way I kept giving them the benefit of the doubt until I saw it with my own eyes what was happening. I'm not going into anymore detail than that because sadly, those feelings are still pretty raw and to be honest, I'm left feeling foolish because I thought I was helping when in actual fact I was only enabling the bad decisions that this person was making.  

Over the course of 2019 I was becoming more and more imbedded in the Army and even at one point considered going back into uniform. I wasn't sure exactly how that was going to work but it was a real possibility at the time. Pretty soon, it was my favorite time of year roll around. Red Shield Appeal Sunday. Something I always looked forward to. In the past I door knocked, played chicken on the road at the traffic lights dodging cars and stood in shopping centers beside the kettle. Every year after the appeal we would go back to the Corp and the ladies there would feed us while some would sit at tables and count the donations coming in. It was a real feeling of community and I actually missed being apart of that. Red Shield 2019 was very different to those days, no more door knocking, little traffic light work due to restrictions which left Shopping centers and Bunnings and the Red Shield Sunday became a two week appeal. 

That first day I volunteered for Bunnings, let me tell you, I have a new found respect for the door greeters at Bunnings after that because nothing is colder than sitting in the wind tunnel they call the front doors at Bunnings. It was so freaking cold that no amount of clothing was going to warm me up. The following week I volunteered for the shopping center and loved every minute of it. As I was working in Pakenham, I knew a lot of the families walking past and it was a change to see them in a different light. Of course the children would do the usual double take when they look at you and try and figure out where they know you because your not in the usual uniform. 

Around May 2019 I had fallen into another slump thanks to my depression. I fell into a complete hole and struggled to climb out of it. To me, everything that I had worked so hard for over the years was being threatened again. I was becoming consumed by the black hole that left me feeling what's the point of going on. It was the Salvos that help save me from that. My officer rang me up one day after the Sunday service in which I hadn't attended. He asked if I was ok, I told him I was struggling to function. Later that day, he and his wife rolled up on my doorstep with donuts looking for coffee and to sit with me for a while, I told them what was happening and they both stuck by me through one of the darkest moments in my career. 

It was around this time that I was recording an interview with the amazing Dr Ruby Red Scarlet for her upcoming online course, "My Friend Has Two Mums: Gender and Sexuality in Early Childhood". Incidentally, this amazing course featuring me is happening again on the 1st September 2020. I will leave a link to the Multiverse site on the Inclusive Educator Facebook page. I remember during the interview being filled with sadness about the predicament I was in and that projected in the interview as being somewhat negative in certain aspects. After the interview Red ask me what was happening and I explained to her. She gave me some amazing advice as you would expect and from that point began crawling back out of the hole. We decided to re-record the interview and I'm so glad we did because the second version was amazing an exactly the message I wanted to get across in the first place. 

Towards the end of 2019, I met a girl who I liked very much. I decided to spend my weekends getting to know her better as weekends were our only time to catch up as she lived in the city. I always intended to go back to the Salvos, they helped me through some tough time but at the time, I had to give my all to my new relationship. The new year rolled around, Covid broke out, the relationship broke down  and before long, restrictions became the new normal. I still keep in contact with my church family but not seeing them every week to catch up and share that experience has been hard.

 I was never a smash you over the head with my beliefs especially my religious ones.  I believe that is up to the individual, me forcing people to go to church is only going to make them rebel more. I have many friends now, and yes, some of them happen to be atheist's and one in particular is probably  reading this now. I don't question her beliefs as she doesn't directly question mine. Some of her posts though I must admit make me squirm but then I think she's entitled to her opinion as I am entitled to mine and I just scroll past. 

Hopefully by Christmas 2020, we can all be together again but sadly I doubt it given the current Covid climate. Until we all do met again in that very precious, newly repainted.......yet again,  church, I want to just say to all at Pakenham Corp, thank you so much for making me feel so welcome over the past couple of years and knowing that I will always have a home among you. Thank you also to the little girl who offered to drive me to church. Who knows, with one more lifestyle change, that uniform could still become a reality.

Sharon Priestley

I don't usually do this but I would like to dedicate this blog to two very special girls, Zoe for offering me a lift and to Jasmine who inspired me to write again. Thank You both. 

It"s Always Been A Matter Of Trust.......(Part 14)

Saturday 29th December 2018

I guess you could say I have been taking a break over the last few months so I could concentrate on my day job. I have also been working on a few new ideas for posts that will be coming up over the coming weeks and months so rest assured this journey is far from over. To every that continues to send me messages of support, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart and hope that you will continue to enjoy these posts. To the people who have just discovered these, welcome aboard this wild ride that is my life. Please feel free to go back and checkout some of my earlier posts that you will find on my home blog page or by accessing them through my Facebook home page for the Inclusive Educator. 

Today I wanted to take you back when I was a child and take you through some events that have shaped my life into the person I am today. Please understand this may not be easy to read some of this due to some of the content involved and a some of it I havn't had the courage to speak about before to many if any people. 

I have always had an issue in my life with trust. Sometimes I trust people to easy and get hurt quite a bit as a result. Males I have also struggled to trust. I have tried in the past to trust them, but more often than not, they betray that trust. I'm not saying all males are like this because it's simply not true. Its just something I personally have a problem with because of past experience. In my life now, I have really only one male friend and he only became that way because he is married to one of my best friends. He is the reason that I still have faith in males as a species. He is an amazing husband to my friend and is a loving and supportive Dad to his children and has excepted me into his family "Village" with a huge amount of trust associated with that. 

Sadly, that wasn't always to be the case along my journey. Heading back to school, I always found it hard trying to relate to the boys in my class. As I grew up in the country, most of them all had farming backgrounds or were great at sports whether it be athletics, football or basketball. They mostly talked about cars, farm machinery or sport. None of which interested me. As I have previously mentioned in earlier blogs, I know nothing about cars and I have no sporting ability what so ever. Sure, I tried basketball and loved it but I was more out there to force the fouls. Most games I would just get fouled off and spend the remainder of the game on the bench. I was involved in Little Athletics and never one a race, best I ever achieved was I came second last in a race and that was because the guy I was competing against had an artificial leg after he lost part of it inside a combine harvester. He was affectionately known as Plug for this reason I guess. We were doing a 400 hundred meter run and coming down the last 100 meters Plugs leg came loose from its bindings and fell off. All Plug could do was hop down towards the finishing line and it was during this time I passed him along the straight. You would have thought I had actually won the race I was that excited. 

I was once asked back in primary school, what did I want to be when I grew up. I thought for a while and came up with these three answers. I want to be a cook, an VFL Footballer or a truck driver. Two of these things had no chance of ever coming into fruition but I didn't want to sound like I was to much of a girl around all the testosterone that was around even in primary school. In reality, boys interests didn't interest me so it was more of a defence mechanism to try and not standout to much. At this stage in my life, I had pretty much put it all together in figuring out who I was. 

I was a Cub Scout when I was younger also. Along with many of the children in my class. I actually enjoyed putting on the uniform and heading off every Wednesday night (for memory) to participate in learning bush skills and helping the community. Bob a Job time was a personal favourite as I got to go out and do things to help others and get a donation for doing it. During this time it was announced that we would be having a weekend away to some place near by where we will be camping and doing some rock climbing and abseiling. This sounded like a great adventure to me although I had no idea what abseiling was but I was willing to give it a go. 

Who in their right mind, jumps off a cliff face backwards tied to a flimsy piece of rope. Oh my goodness, was I in for a rude shock. I remember standing on that rock face scared out of my shoes. I'm not sure how I completed the jump, but somehow I did and actually loved it. That night we were all in our tents. I was sitting there very proud that I had actually found the courage to do this thing when two guys from the neighbouring tent asked me if I wanted to come over to their tent for a bit. I thought, might as well because I was by myself in my tent so I headed over to their tent. I had known these two guys for quite a while now, we had attended the same school since we began our schooling life so it was a fair enough assumption that I would be ok. Sadly I was wrong, upon entering the tent, one of them tried to pull down my pants and sexually assault me while the other one sat in front laughing at me. 

I was so scared, I was trapped in a situation that I didn't even know was possible. I was extremely naive back then and had little to no knowledge of what was happening other than I knew it wasn't right. To give you an idea of exactly how naive I was back then, I actually didn't even realise that boys and girls had different body parts. Apart from girls having breasts, I didn't know there was even a difference. I just knew I preferred being around girls to guys. I remember asking my mother once "When a baby is born, how do they tell if its a boy or girl?" I was quite intrigued about it and wanted to know how this was achieved. My Mother gave me a look like Seriously followed up closely by "Go ask your Father". Can't remember if I asked him in the end, I think the look of disbelief kind of put me off the idea. 

That night I went back to my tent and lay there in my sleeping bag wondering what had happened. I was upset for allowing myself to trust these two guys who had done some pretty ordinary things in the past but I thought or hoped that they had moved on a bit. I decided never to tell anyone because I wasn't even sure what to say. So it was decided, I didn't tell the Cub leaders or my parents or anyone else. I have blocked it out till now. It was all about self preservation for me at the time, I just figured that no one would believe me anyway. 

That was probably where my distrust for males began. After that time it was just one thing after another. I had one child decided that it would be fun to humiliate me further in front of a group of friends. He decided that it would be fun to pee on me, so, without warning. He pulled it out and started peeing on my leg. This happened at my own house. Thankfully my Dad found out about this one and dealt with the situation. Again I was like confused wondering why me. 

A few years later after being tormented about my scar on my mouth from when I was born and the children at school coming up with their own version of events why it was split. Apparently I was giving oral sex to my Father and he split my mouth. I wasn't even sure what oral sex was then but leave it to the kids at my school to tell me exactly what it was. I was so disgusted and ended up telling my Aunt at first who was staying with us and then went on to tell my Dad. 

It was about this time that I discovered that the guy had been calling Dad all my life wasn't actually my Father. Apparently my biological Father dropped me off with my Mum at my Grandparents place claiming that no son of his could turn out like I was not long after bringing me home from the hospital. It turns out I had a few complications during birth including a Hair Lip which is why to this day I still bare the scare of my birth. He went onto imply that my Mother must of been with someone else to create me. With the help of my newly discovered Step-Dad, we tried to track him down to see if he was willing to see me but he refused. 

Although my relationship with my Step-Dad wasn't always smooth sailing, I had a lot of respect for him for what he has done for me over the years. He took me to countless specialist trips to Melbourne to try and help me with numerous different medical conditions that appeared over the years. The mere fact that we moved to the county in the first place was primarily so I could have a better chance at life because I had breathing issues in Melbourne. In short, he was and is the only person that I have called Dad and although I don't say it often enough, I love and respect everything he has done for me. 

On a side note, we achieved a huge milestone together on Christmas Day. My Dad after struggling to get his head around it for the last couple of years called me Sharon for the first time ever. This was a huge step because for 46 years years he has always known me as Darren (arghhhh, still hate that name) but I'm proud to say, he is getting there. It made my day so thank you Dad. It meant more than you will ever realise. 

Moving through on through school, I continued to go under the radar but at the same time I desperately craved friendships with anyone. I started to act out in class, sort of become the class joker just to get laughs but more often than not it would just wind up with me in a world of trouble. One class I never messed around in was Home Economics. My passion for cooking hadn't died and it was one of the only things in my life that brought me joy. My teacher at the time was Mrs Oldfield. She was amazing and truly an inspiration for me. She was kind with her time and always supportive and helpful. She was the kind of teacher that I hope I am today with my children. 

Eventually, it was time to move back to Melbourne as work was drying up in the country. People were leaving, businesses were closing and moving back to Melbourne was the only option for some. My respiratory system was a lot stronger now so it was all systems go. I was initially excited about heading to Melbourne. A fresh start for me at a new school would hopefully allow me to reinvent myself. Sadly that wasn't to be. The same old stuff that was happening at my old school was beginning to happen all over again. I was different and everyone sensed that and once again I became the scapegoat for anyone who felt like paying out on me. 

I found refuge once again with the girls in my class and they were supportive. The guys all had something to prove to one another. To the guys you fell under one of the following categories. You were either Gay, a Virgin, a nerd or one of them. I got classified as a Virgin. Didn't even know what that was back then but because I wore a white skivvy, that was my category. I didn't know whether to be offended or honoured. The truth is, I was but I didn't know it at the time. 

I ended up leaving school at the first opportunity I had. I went to work in a scrap metal yard which was horrific. It was my first job and it was a means to an end to get me out of the schooling system. From there I went to work for Coles as a trolley pusher. Hated that also. My real passion remained with cooking. By this stage I had collected so many cook books and begin to write my own recipes that I needed to do something to make it happened. 

I ended up getting a job at the Western Port Hotel in Hastings as a kitchen hand on the weekends. Saturday nights I would wash a mountain of dishes but on Sunday, I would go back into the kitchen and get to do some prep work with the Chefs. I loved this so much and it gave me some great experience but sadly, I didn't have a licence at the time and had to rely on my Dad to get me there but that wasn't always feasible so I left.

I ended up getting work in a restaurant in my home town as a kitchen hand. I was so excited to be working in a proper restaurant that specialised in French cuisine. To me I had made it finally. This was where my career was going to take off. Starting at the bottom I was going to learn everything I could, get my apprenticeship and become a Chef. The first Monday night I worked was very quite. Hardly anyone in the restaurant so it was a good opportunity to sample some food. First up was the garlic snails otherwise known as Escargot. I discovered then and there all about the concept of mind over matter. I put the snail in my mouth and thought this is actually quite good then my mind lost its control and thought about how when it rains, the snails come up out of the garden and sit on the footpaths and if you're not careful, pretty soon you will hear the crunching of shells under foot. It was about then during the thought process that I had to spit it out and dry desperately not to gag. I apologised to the Head Chef and he laughed it off much to my relief. A little later in the night, it had gone totally dead and we were the only two left in the kitchen. 

It was during this time that the Head Chef asked if I was with anyone. I wasn't at the time and I said no. He asked me if I was interested in anyone. I replied "Only Maddona". The truth is I loved Maddona so much. I so wanted to be her. She was everything I wish I could have been back then. Sexy, loved and wanted. 

The Chef seemed happy with this revaluation so I went onto tell him about the limited addition of Playboy that I had with Madonna in it. Now, have to explain something here. Back then, any poster, book or item of clothing that mentioned Madonna, I wanted. I even  knew people going to the Melbourne show and asked them if they would bring me back two Maddona showbags. I had pictures of her all over my walls and room. I had her albums and videos, I even took the day off one day just so I could head into Melbourne to be one of the first to see Desperately seeking Susan, Maddona's first ever movie. I was absolutely in love with her. It seemed a perfectly thing to have a copy of that edition of Playboy to add to the Maddona memorabilia. 

The Chef asked if he could see it. I told him yes and he said while its quite, do you want to get it knowing that i lived nearby. I said sure, so I set off on my bike to collect the much talked about copy of Playboy.  Upon my arrival back at the restaurant, he had a quick flick through it and placed it on the bench. He asked me to point out which were my favourite shots of her. I turned and opened up the pages to where Maddona appeared and the Chef came up behind me, took down my pants and proceeded to sexually assault me there in the kitchen of a deserted restaurant. Once again, I was scared and not knowing what to do. Had I brought this on myself by grabbing the magazine or did he just prefer young children. I wasn't even 18. Although their was no penetration, it still made me feel sick having him rub himself up against me. I was sad and confused. My dream job had turned into a nightmare. 

After he had finished he told me that he was going away for the weekend and wanted me to come along. I was worried what this would involved but also scared if I didn't go that I would loose my job and this was already my fourth since leaving school so I didn't want to go home and say that I'd lost another job. I told him that I would ask my Parents if I could go. I didn't know what else to say. As it turned out, I asked permission to go and quite rightfully they said no. Probably the first time in my life that I was happy to have a no. I went back the next day and told him i wasn't allowed to go and within the week I no longer had a job working in the hospitality field. 

I told myself there and then that I would never go back to working in kitchens again. I could never allow myself to fall into a situation like this again and leave myself open and vulnerable. It also fuelled my distrust in males. Didn't want to have to deal with another one again. I tried telling someone about this story once and it was met with a response of "Oh", like i was only telling them for shock purposes. No one makes this stuff up, its real and it happens to women all the time. Some guys think they have the right to take advantage of someone they see as weaker than them. No one has a right to treat another human being in this way. I am a strong advocate for saying no to any form of violence against women. Be it verbal, physical or emotional. I have been through all of it myself in my life and I'm willing to take a stand and tell guys that they need to do a better job. 

I started off by saying that this will not be an easy one to read and it shouldn't be given the content. We should feel very uncomfortable about Sexually assault and find a way to show the perpetrators of this that their few moments of joy can ruin someone's life and no one has that right to hold that power over you.

Sharon

A Giant Leap Of Faith ..........(Part 8)

Sunday 24th June 2018

I had become more defiant over time and found myself resenting the fact that I couldn't have a social life with anyone else other than my Wife. I had formed a bond with a couple of the girls I worked with and every so often they would invite me out to hangout with them. Most of time I had to find excuses not to knowing full well that if I went out with anyone other than Maria, my life would be misery (more so than usual) for the next few days. 

Eventually, I found myself one day saying yes to going out. I had the time of my life. For the first time I felt that I could begin to breath again. We didn't do anything much in those early days, it was just going to the local Pub, hanging out after a meal and chatting about the craziest things. One of my favourite things to do as an introvert, is to observe other people. Most of these nights were spent just people watching and building stories around these complete strangers lives as we ponded what each one of them did for a living. 

Occasionally, one of these people may look famous which made the job of creating a life for them so much more easier. I think these nights only had happened maybe two or three times before one night out after a few drinks I found myself confiding to one of the girls who I really was. I'm not sure why I told her other than the fact I felt I could trust her with what I was saying. It was at this point that our other friend had come over to our table and all of a sudden the table fell silent with an awkward pause. I felt like I needed to say something so she didn't think we had just been talking about her because it was just one of those sort of moments. So I repeated the story to her. 

I actually returned home that night feeling like I had set something in motion that wasn't going to be easily stopped. My wife had no idea what was about to happen. To be totally honest, neither did I. I had just told two people in my life who I trusted with all my heart the biggest secret about me and it felt cleansing. For some strange reason, I got up the next day and made up an excuse to go and see my parents. Not sure what I was going to say to them at first, but felt if this was going to happen, they needed to hear it from me before anyone else. 

As I was heading there, I received a call from one of my friends from the night before to ask me how I was. I told her that I felt great and that I was about to go to see my parents and tell them. She wished me good luck and hoped that it went well. I thanked her for her support and continued on my journey. Not sure why, but for some reason while I'm writing this, I think I was riding my bike there which is why I was able to stop and talk along the way. 

My parents only lived 7kms away so it wasn't a long ride to get there, the trip going back was a little more difficult having to negotiate a steep climb heading home. When I finally arrived, I found my father sitting outside in his favourite spot on his sun-deck reading one of his Clive Cussler or Wilbur Smith books. I nervously sat down in the chair next to him and told him that I needed to tell him something about me. 

I don't know what I expected but the reaction I got was one of positivity. I guess after being told for so many years that my family and everyone else would look upon me as a freak and reject me had me worried about what was going to happen but the reality was, apart from a few digs about how my two brothers were going to have a field day with the news and payout on me, there was nothing. From that point, we decided to tell my Mother. Now my Mother was a bit more reserved about her reaction. I remember her telling me that she knew that Maria had something over me but couldn't figure out what. I was to find out later that Mum was very concerned about my safety and how others would take the news of who I was. 

Feeling positive about my decision to tell my family, I felt the next step was to tell my boss. I went into work on the Monday, went into the office and sat down ready to tell her who I was. This was no easy feat for me because I'd had had a hard enough time trying to convince people that I was a Male in childcare only to turn around now and actually say, "You know what, that's not actually who I am". My Director knew I was about to tell her something big as I was stuttering looking for the right words to convey my message effectively. She reassured me that whatever I told her that it was going to be OK. With that, I took a deep breath and dove off that cliff knowing that there was no coming back. 

My biggest fear for saying anything was that I feared that if I didn't tell them first, that Maria would come to my centre and cause drama for me. By me getting in first and telling them, it left that door closed for her. After I finished telling my Director about me, she looked at me and simply said, "OK, so what do you want to do?" I told her nothing initially because I didn't know myself at that stage. I never thought that I'd have the courage to transition, so I hadn't looked any further than just moving out of the relationship, finding my own place and living a split life. Him during the day and the real me at night in the privacy of my own home. 

I had already been searching for a new place and been accepted when I decided to call a family meeting with my two younger brothers. I had been dreading this moment in a way because of what my father had said was going to happen, but I knew they needed to know and once again they needed to hear it from me. When I arrived at my parents house, I discovered that the whole family was there. Brothers, Wives, Nieces and Nephews. I don't know why again, but I didn't expect that but in hindsight, it made sense that they were apart of it. 

While the kids played in the playroom, I began once again telling my story. To my surprise, their was no ridicule again, just unprecedented support. My next brother down offered to get me out of the house that very night. He gave me one of his cars so I could get some of my stuff out to get me out of the situation. Secretly I think he was more worried about me changing my mind and caving into her again, which going by past history was a fair assumption on his part. 

That night, I returned home to tell my Wife that I was leaving her. That I had told my family, my friends and even my work who I was and they all accepted me and that she had nothing more to hold over me. There was one person that I hadn't told and that was Maria's Mum who had lived with us for the past eight years after her Husband passed away. Maria immediately went running to her to tell her to which her reply was, "That's great news, I have some clothes I have been meaning to get rid of that maybe you would like." I laughed so hard that I think I actually cried. I hugged her Mum and whispered "Thank You". 

I don't actually think I moved out to the following day in the end. The next day was a Friday and my parents were going away for a couple of weeks so I moved into their house to house sit if you like. I gathered what I could and left the house. Two weeks after that, I moved into my new unit. All of a sudden, things became all to real. I had finally got some independence, part of me was happy, the other part of me was terrified. Had I just made the biggest mistake of my life? Would anyone truly ever love me for who I am? Would Maria ever accept that this is who I am? How would the families take the news if they ever found out? What was my next step to be true to myself? 

Just Give Me A Lake To Look Upon (Part 6)

Saturday 9th June 2018

I think now would be a very good time to bring up the subject of depression. The following words may not be easy to read as it deals with a real life issue that affects suffers all over the world on a daily basis. Chances are that you or someone you may know has this insidious condition and unless you know what its like to experience it, its seriously hard to describe. It's important to note that anyone who has depression, has their own journey. Although journey's may follow similar paths at times, they all have their own destination. Some are lucky to find the light at the end of the tunnel sooner than others, while some journeys continue for years and at times it feels like you have reached the destination, only to be confronted by something else that drags you back. Sadly some don't reach their  destination at all. Some people just give every last bit of energy inside them, fight every battle that presents itself and as each one of those battles gets tougher and tougher, begin to feel that the journey is not worth continuing, that its just way to hard to keep going on like this trying to be so many things to so many people and feeling like you have nothing left for yourself because you given everything and neglected yourself in the process. 

Its kind of strange in a sense because growing up I always knew I was different from everyone else and struggled to find my place in the universe but was I sad? No, not really. I was living in the country and when things got to much for me, I just jumped on my bike and peddled off to find seclusion away from the rest of the world. Most of the time for me, that was a place called the Nhill lake. 

Nhill was a small country town halfway between Melbourne and Adelaide with a population of 2300. It had three amazing pubs and of course, it's biggest draw card, the Talking Horse. The horse was a big black statue of a horse standing on what could only be described as a mountain of rocks. It stood proudly in the main street and it's main purpose in life was to inform the many tourists that had stopped by looking for some respite from the drive between our two cities, some back ground information about our beautiful little town. Yes, for twenty cents you could hear all about how our town was built and put together with the help of this amazing horse. 

The word Nhill was derived from an Aboriginal word meaning Mist over Water. The towns name seemed somewhat appropriate as our winters were freezing cold and most mornings were spent waking up early to see how much our front lawn had frozen over and then running out to walk on it to leave our footprints behind on it. Ahhhh, the days before computers and Ipads when we had to make our own entertainment. Back in a time when a mere footprint left in a patch of grass would brighten my day if for only a short time. I actually remember a news story that appeared in our local paper about a tap that had been left on overnight in the park near the horse by chance. The tap had been photographed the next morning with a column of ice protruding from the tap itself, leading to the ground. Clearly a slow news day by most standards but in Nhill, it was the talk of the town. 

Nhill Lake was a beautiful little spot that had a trail that went right around the circumference of the lake itself. I would just head down there and pedal around it, find a quiet place, usually by a fallen log and just sit there looking out across the water. Sometimes I'd even take a fishing rod, not that I'd ever catch anything but it was nice to sit there with a purpose at times. Truth be told, if I ever caught a fish, I wouldn't know what to do with it so I always considered myself lucky that i never did while I was alone. Further truth, I had no chance of catching anything as I hated touching worms so I used spinners. The fish in Nhill lake were clearly blind because they never saw them. 

I guess, I have always been a bit of a dreamer. Thinking back to those much more simpler days of sitting by the log at Nhill lake to sitting here at my desk typing these words now, I have always dreamed of bigger and better things for myself. The reality is, I can be very lazy at times. I have these great big ideas on what I want to do and things I want to achieve, go crazy on it for a little while then think, whats the point, who's going to read this anyway? I have half written so many books over the years the same way. I have these awesome ideas for stories, sit down and write them then the insecurities creep in and I just give up. I guess for me, writing this has been a little different because it's almost happening in real time so when I see your views and feedback, I know people are reading this and maybe someone will find it interesting if not helpful in some way. 

The point of all that was to try and explain that although I was bullied at school and felt like I didn't fit in anywhere and I knew I was different didn't necessarily mean that my early years were filled with sadness. On the contrary, my years growing up in the country were some of my happiest moments spent on this earth. It wasn't until moving to the city that I began to realise how different I really was and how much I didn't fit in. The children at my new school had no qualms about pointing out my many flaws there. Now I didn't have the Nhill lake to pedal to, in fact I didn't have anywhere to go to that was anything like my lake. More and more I became more reclusive and really not wanting to go out anywhere. 

Acceptance into groups or anything was not an easy thing. I just never really fit in anywhere all the time knowing why, but being to scared to say anything knowing at the time, it was a totally different world and not one I would have given myself much chance in. When an organisation like the Salvation Army accepted me, it was the first time that I had actually felt apart of something. To be honest again, they didn't obviously know what they were accepting but to me at that time it was just what I needed to belong somewhere. They welcomed me in, gave me responsibility and purpose and most importantly, they loved me. 

I guess, thinking back now as I'm writing this, what I refer to along my journey as the black hole, has never been far away. I call it the black hole because that's what it feels like. I can feel it closing in on me and I'm running as fast as I can but little by little it keeps drawing me into the centre and once that happens I'm gone for undetermined amount of time. It might be a day or two or as long as a week to a  month. I try my best to hide it from the people I work with but when you are this person that spends most of the time jumping around like you have just overdosed on energy drinks to a person who is quiet and withdrawn and does her best not to make eye contact for fear of bursting into tears, its kind of noticeable after a while. 

The worst part about having depression is that when people ask me am I alright? Clearly I'm not but you try and shrug it off and say things like, "Yeah, I'm ok, maybe a little tired." it's because more often than not, I can't tell you whats wrong. I have no magic answer for why I didn't feel like getting out of bed this morning, I have no logical explanation for why while driving to work this morning, I burst into tears and nearly drove off the road and drove my car into a tree or off a bridge. There are so many days where I have woken up and asked God to take me away from this pain that I feel everyday. I remember a line from the movie Titanic that sums up the way I felt very well. "Sometimes I feel I'm in a room full of people screaming at the top of my lungs and no one is listening".

Those last fifteen years of my marriage was like that on almost a daily basis. I simply wanted to die, I couldn't take the lie I was living but felt trapped because I was told if I left, my family would be told about me, my work would be told about me. I was told that everyone would think that I was a freak with mental issues and everyone would reject me. My only saving grace at the time was my job. 

I can't tell you how many times my job has brought me back from the point of finishing my own journey and not reaching my destination. I can tell you now, the only thing that kept me alive was those kids. Arriving at work everyday and walking into my room and having a room full of kids running towards me screaming my name and all trying to get close enough for that first hug of the day. THAT KEPT ME ALIVE!!!

There were times when I used to say to my wife that I had to go over to the centre and catch up on some work on the weekend. I'd head over early in the morning and usually get back after dark. What was a doing for so long. Mostly sleeping on the couch in my room to avoid being at home in a toxic environment. I admit that I was pathetic, I was spineless and anything else you can think of. I had no self-esteem and certainly no self-respect. Every ounce of dignity had left me and I was only moving forward because of my kids. 

I tried to get help, I spoke to Doctors and seeked counselling and although they were more than happy to put me on a mental health plan and hand out Anti-depressants, the thing that would really help me, was never going to happen. They wanted my wife to come in to sit in on a session but to her, I was putting on the whole thing and looking for attention. She used to say, "I'm depressed, I don't need anything. Get over it". 

Please understand, this post is not about demonising my wife, its just about trying to give so prospective into my state of mind around that time in my life. I accept a lot of the responsibility because I know I wasn't easy to live with during this time. I spent most of my time skulking around, withdrawn and I suppose not a great deal of fun to be around so I can't blame her for everything. 

In the end, I discovered that I wasn't alone in my journey. I can 't stress this point strong enough. YOU'RE NOT ALONE. Living with Depression you feel like your the only one going through it and no one else will understand. Please let me stress this that it's so not true. There are many of us that live with this every single day with the only difference they find better ways to deal with it. My way of dealing with it was to talk about it a lot. To find people who you can trust and confide in and tell them how you feel and what you are going through. Never be ashamed to hide what you are feeling. I spoke about it to anyone who would listen and I didn't care if it was people at work, people online or a bunch of guests who came to my 40th Birthday party. 

The more I spoke about it, the easier things became and the more I realised that I wasn't alone. Before long I created a Facebook page dedicated to helping other people going through what I was going through. The group became a safe place for anyone to share what they were feeling and what they were going through and for them to know that there was always someone ready to talk with you day and night as their were members from all over.  

This post has been one of the hardest ones to write so far and have had numerous breaks while writing it because it has brought back a lot of memories. If it has stirred up anything or triggered your own memories, please click on one of the links that I will leave to below or feel free to contact me if you need to chat about anything I may of raised or touched on here. Most of all, Please remember that  YOU'RE NOT ALONE.

Sharon

My depression page.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/83358616350/

https://www.beyondblue.org.au/

https://www.lifeline.org.au/

https://www.suicidepreventionaust.org/

Words.........Don't come easy.

Sunday 3rd June 2018

Something I have always held in high regard is the written and spoken word. I learnt from an early age that I had a flair for writing and constructing stories using just my imagination and an idea. I used this to escape to an imaginary world to get away from the pain of the real world. Sadly, when it came to real conversation with real people, I lacked confidence and at times tried to fill the gaps in the conversation with humour. 

Sometimes this would work to overwhelming success and other times it would end up with me placing my foot in my mouth and completely embarrassing myself and more often than not, upsetting the person that I was conversing with. It's true that I have always considered myself a bit of social leper choosing to avoid social occasions at all costs to prevent any type of embarrassment arising. In hindsight, its amazing that I was even actually married because of how shy I was and still I am even now. 

I can recall a time when I was dating one of my first serious Girlfriends and we decided to go and visit her Uncle who was sadly losing his battle with cancer. He was bedridden sadly and I remember entering his room with my then Girlfriend and straight away I was overwhelmed by the sight in front of me. In my defence, it was the first time that I'd ever had to face someone actually in this condition and I just froze. I remember my Girlfriend telling her Uncle after he had asked how was her family going that everyone had been struck down with the flu. She was explaining that her Sister had been unwell for a few days and her Mother was showing signs of coming down with it also. My Girlfriend had just finished explaining to her Uncle that she had managed to avoid it so far and suddenly without warning I suddenly jumped into the conversation for the first time with, "Yeah, we're the only health ones around here at the moment". 

I remember her Uncle taking his glaze of his adoring Niece and looking up at this moron and saying "Lucky You". Instantly, I felt like trading places with this man and end my life there and then. I remember running out of his room and headed out of the back door and just broke down in tears thinking to myself, how could I be so bloody stupid. My Girlfriend came out and tried to reassure me that it was ok and that he knew that I never meant anything by it but in my eye's, it was far to late. 

There are so many other moments of me placing my foot in my mouth or having awkward conversations over the years. I try and say something funny to be apart of the conversation in someway and somehow end up disgracing myself in the process. Call it a lack of education or just a lack of social skills. I'm usually the one at parties hiding in the corner trying not to be noticed. 

 At least with the written word there is safety in that right? I mean I can read over that then edit it before I send it to the recipient. Yeah, you would think that wouldn't you, but sadly not the case where Sharon is involved. Yesterday I managed to embarrass myself all over again through text.  I'd sent a message to a new friend who really doesn't know me that well yet and in the process made a comment that, well in hindsight wasn't funny but it was more of a comparison to a situation that had happened earlier in my life. Needless to say, this wasn't the person to make this comment to and I deeply embarrassed myself in the process. The subject matter of my comment was far from funny and I should have known better considering who I am and what I stand for. 

Another thing about me that most people who know me know, that if I upset someone, it upsets me greatly. I stew on it and continue to dwell on it well after the event. I'm not sure why I do this because its seriously torture and over thinking the situation is not going to change things. Hopefully my new friend has moved on and has just written it off as a silly mistake. That's all I can hope for in the end. I can't promise that I will never say a stupid insensitive word again because it never starts off that way. Its just nervous words said in haste to try and fit in with a crowd of people who I have always struggled to fit in with. 

Give me Children any day, being an adult is hard work. 

Sharon