I’ve lived in Perth, the capital of Western Australia, for just over three years. This city has been entirely generous to me and I can’t quite believe that in just one week I’ll be saying my farewells, jumping in the car with Andrew, driving the 4000-ish kms across Australia and leaving Perth. I have moments of thinking I’m crazy […]
I used to often say that I felt I had gotten through life relatively easy, by which I meant I had no suffered no major loss, tragedy or death. My parents aren’t divorced, we never moved around, I was given the wooden spoon a few times but basically I’m one of the lucky ones who had a wonderful and supportive childhood.
I’ve stood alongside friends however who have tragically lost siblings and parents, who have suffered domestic violence, assault and family deterioration. I used to watch their lives fall apart and feel almost guilty because my life had always been relatively smooth sailing.
This time last year, I wrote down my biggest fears. Top of the list? That something would happen to a member of my family. For as long as I can remember, it has been a regular belief in my mind that if I suddenly lost my parents or one of my siblings, I would completely self destruct. In some weird way, I also kind of knew it was coming. Why? Not sure. Could be a mishmash of guilt, being the eldest and intuition, but it doesn’t really matter.