The Itch
When I graduated from high school, I came upon a unique decision. I was bohemian, and I was frustrated with the lack of culture humanity within my walls. So I packed up my things, put them all into storage and waved goodbye from a plane bound for Australia. You have to keep in mind that I had absolutely no one telling me what I could and couldn't do. I have been an orphan since I was 13, and living on my own since I was 16. While I don't recommend it because 99% of North American teenagers would not last, I made it work. I'm 22 now, and I still have no clue how. But back to my story.
I gave my notice of leaving to my various places of work, moved every last belonging into my grandmothers storage shed, and packed my world into a backpack. I was 17.
I didn't return home for any real length of time until I was 20, and I was offered a job in a hip new complex that was opening up. They paid me well, and it was then that I started forgetting my purpose in life.
I have always believed in reincarnation for the simple fact that I don't believe that our souls can truly learn the complexity of life in one 85 year stretch. The purpose of living, is knowledge. There are so many things to experience and to grasp out in the world that I believe that we shall keep coming back until we have the opportunity to move further. Perhaps this is heaven. Of course, it goes completely against everything I was brought up believing, but it seems that life has afforded me a somewhat more logical eye as I grow.
Most people assume I'm jaded. I've experienced a lot in my short life, and it seems to me that they expect a rather cynical outlook from me. This isn't the case. I've come to peace with my stepfathers memory, and don't hate him (although i have my moments in the midst of a collapse of tears). This was the biggest catharsis for me, forgiving the mistakes that he has made in his life that have touched mine. When I was 16....I broke down, having held all the pain and guilt inside me. I was in tears for a solid six hours, of this I am certain. And then I started to talk everything out that I had hidden in myself. It was almost like doing a personal checklist.
"Angel, you've spent the last 3 years not opening up. You don't have to anymore. You are alone, so why are you keeping up the facade?"
In the 9 years since they passed on, I can count on one hand the number of times I have broken down. I still get a little weepy on family holidays, and I am never pleasant to be around on my birthday (which is when it all happened). But it's understandable, and I've grown to realize this. I made the decision when I was 16 to put myself into therapy, because it seemed almost unusual to me that I should be so....normal....when I plainly wasn't. I met with a woman once, and we talked for about two hours. And at the end of the session, she said to me quite obviously.
"You aren't normal. You will never be normal. You have a quick mind and a soft heart. You haven't been jaded, and you certainly aren't cynical. You do not need to be here, and as much as I'd love to talk with you about the things I find interesting in your life....it would be a waste of your time."
I'll never forget those words. It was then, I came to accept that I wasn't normal, and that I wasn't like everyone around me. And I never would. And in retrospect I always knew this.
I spent months upon months in Australia. I found myself outside the small world I had come to believe existed. And while I was there, I began my studies in outdoor education. And so began my philosophy on traversing the globe. When you travel, you must do so by willingly seeking out opportunities for personal growth. For me, this is knowledge. I will never pass up an experience that can help me grow as a person, both mentally and physically.
I've spent time in various locales around the world, before returning to Canada. And I've been here ever since, content to explore my own backyard. But it's the tiny thread inside myself that lets me know that there is only so much that I can experience in my own little domesticated world. And so it's begun again. The layering of job upon job to pay for a trip. The realization that taking a well paying job right now would never allow for the time off, and why burn bridges if there is no need. The cutting down of personal spending, and the dangerous life of living just above the poverty line knowing that my bank account shall be reaping the rewards.
I gave my notice of leaving to my various places of work, moved every last belonging into my grandmothers storage shed, and packed my world into a backpack. I was 17.
I didn't return home for any real length of time until I was 20, and I was offered a job in a hip new complex that was opening up. They paid me well, and it was then that I started forgetting my purpose in life.
I have always believed in reincarnation for the simple fact that I don't believe that our souls can truly learn the complexity of life in one 85 year stretch. The purpose of living, is knowledge. There are so many things to experience and to grasp out in the world that I believe that we shall keep coming back until we have the opportunity to move further. Perhaps this is heaven. Of course, it goes completely against everything I was brought up believing, but it seems that life has afforded me a somewhat more logical eye as I grow.
Most people assume I'm jaded. I've experienced a lot in my short life, and it seems to me that they expect a rather cynical outlook from me. This isn't the case. I've come to peace with my stepfathers memory, and don't hate him (although i have my moments in the midst of a collapse of tears). This was the biggest catharsis for me, forgiving the mistakes that he has made in his life that have touched mine. When I was 16....I broke down, having held all the pain and guilt inside me. I was in tears for a solid six hours, of this I am certain. And then I started to talk everything out that I had hidden in myself. It was almost like doing a personal checklist.
"Angel, you've spent the last 3 years not opening up. You don't have to anymore. You are alone, so why are you keeping up the facade?"
In the 9 years since they passed on, I can count on one hand the number of times I have broken down. I still get a little weepy on family holidays, and I am never pleasant to be around on my birthday (which is when it all happened). But it's understandable, and I've grown to realize this. I made the decision when I was 16 to put myself into therapy, because it seemed almost unusual to me that I should be so....normal....when I plainly wasn't. I met with a woman once, and we talked for about two hours. And at the end of the session, she said to me quite obviously.
"You aren't normal. You will never be normal. You have a quick mind and a soft heart. You haven't been jaded, and you certainly aren't cynical. You do not need to be here, and as much as I'd love to talk with you about the things I find interesting in your life....it would be a waste of your time."
I'll never forget those words. It was then, I came to accept that I wasn't normal, and that I wasn't like everyone around me. And I never would. And in retrospect I always knew this.
I spent months upon months in Australia. I found myself outside the small world I had come to believe existed. And while I was there, I began my studies in outdoor education. And so began my philosophy on traversing the globe. When you travel, you must do so by willingly seeking out opportunities for personal growth. For me, this is knowledge. I will never pass up an experience that can help me grow as a person, both mentally and physically.
I've spent time in various locales around the world, before returning to Canada. And I've been here ever since, content to explore my own backyard. But it's the tiny thread inside myself that lets me know that there is only so much that I can experience in my own little domesticated world. And so it's begun again. The layering of job upon job to pay for a trip. The realization that taking a well paying job right now would never allow for the time off, and why burn bridges if there is no need. The cutting down of personal spending, and the dangerous life of living just above the poverty line knowing that my bank account shall be reaping the rewards.