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Weekly Wrap-Up

May 28, 2017 chloeLeave a comment

This past week was a pretty huge one for me – many things happened. Chief among them was that I started a new job. The new job is a Big Deal. I have lots of feelings about it – I’m working with books, which is amazing, since that’s what I’ve wanted to do basically since I was old enough to understand the concept of a job. I am lucky to have the opportunity and I’m grateful and excited.

I don’t really feel like I know what’s going on yet – which is, of course, totally normal, since it’s only been a week. The problem right now is that one of the best strategies I have for managing my anxiety is to make myself feel in control of my environment. Said anxiety has been flaring up this week, and managing it has been a bit exhausting, which leaves me a bit flat when it comes to social energy – this is unfortunate, because I feel like the new kid at school in this open plan office, and I really want everybody to like me. I want to be sparkly and fun, and I just feel a bit dull and self-conscious. I am trying to trust in the process, breathe deep, and be kind to myself. We’ll get there.

My Dad was in hospital this week. He had a pretty bad scare and some surprise surgery, but the good news is that he’ll be fine. Turns out when you pump him full of morphine, he can’t stop telling REALLY dirty jokes, which is one part hilarious to seventeen parts mortifying. I went to visit him on Monday, and let me tell you, it is a weird feeling visiting your parents in hospital. I know it’s likely something I’ll have to do more and more in the future, especially as we all get older, but I’m not used to it. I’m still young enough that to my mind, my parents are these invincible pillars of strength, and it’s unsettling when that idea is challenged. I feel grateful this week to have both of them alive and well.

The other big thing that happened this week was that my little mate Finneas (he’s a fish, okay, I thought I was being funny) has finally made his way to the great big fish tank in the sky. I had him for three years, which is a thoroughly decent life span for a fish, but it’s still sad to see him go. He was a good fish. I’d managed to train him to follow a toothpick and everything.

It’s been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster this past week. I am proud of myself for sticking with it – it’s nice to be able to prove to myself that I’m a thoroughly capable person. Even when things are tough and I’m exhausted and anxious and feel a bit lost and out of control, I get through it. I make sure I take care of myself, because I’m a Grown Up, and then I pick myself up and keep going.

Here’s to next week – onwards and upwards!

Our Annual Family Migration

April 3, 2017 chloeLeave a comment

I used to call it ‘our annual family migration’. Like birds in search of bluer skies, we’d leave for a few weeks each summer and head up North. The first time, I was six. Most recently, this February, I was twenty-four.

Heading north out of Sydney, we cross the Hawkesbury river and twist and turn along roads carved through mountains of rock. As a child, I would look for dinosaur bones hidden in the stones. My sister, L, and I would pretend to spot koalas and kangaroos in the gnarled bush above us.

As with every Family Road Trip Migration, there are traditions. In a car too old for bluetooth, we take turns to choose CDs. Yes, optical media is still alive and well on the road. L and I have prepared a special offering for the Melodious Gods:

(The lollies are also a tradition).

Lunch is always at Buladelah, a tiny town off the highway, population roughly 1500. We sit at the same plastic picnic table outside a service station every year, and eat sandwiches packed by my mother that morning. There is nothing beautiful about the scene, in the usual sense of the word, but nostalgia and tradition are powerful things.

On we go, watching for funny place names on road signs, counting down kilometres. We are all competing to be the first person to spot a banana tree. My mother is the reigning champ when it comes to this sport.

The drive takes six or seven hours, and is exciting on the way up and wistful on the way back. We don’t do much talking, mostly listening. There is a sense of open space, and you have to leave the city to find it. Once you do, the wild animal inside your heart stirs a little at the sight of an open plain. You are a child and an adult all at once. There are distant objects that could be either cows or horses. There is just this car, travelling on up the road, a whole world trapped inside it.