Just returned from Brisbane, where I met up with a friend (one I made on a recent 3day biking trip), and caught an evening theatre production of the autobiographical play Fourteen. An beautiful, moving play set in the late 1990s of a smalltown gay teen faced with daily bullying and abuse at school. With throwback tunes of JLo, Shania and the Vengaboys. It was pure nostalgia, even though I was fortunate not to have experienced the same kind of horrendous abuse at school. There were so many moving moments, especially scenes with his supportive mother, and siblings, that made me tear up.
At fourteen, I was a shy, pimply kid. Living alone, and to some living the dream as I did not have any parent or adult around. But it was a really lonely existence, and, like the main character, beginning to discover my own sexuality. Between Moby and Savage Garden, and discovering my love of Elton and the beautiful songs of the 1980s, I was a dreamer. Though not abused at school, I was reeling from abuse during my childhood, and only coming to terms with it through library books on self help.
They say the teenage years are formative years. They can break you or make you stronger. Flirtations with suicide are common in those confusing years. Having this dark feeling when standing on the platform and seeing an oncoming train. Or sudden thoughts of "what if" I ran a light in oncoming traffic. Those thoughts have long, long disappeared, thank goodness.
But those of us who are strong (and certainly in the 1990s, as compared to some teens today, many were perhaps much more resilient and able to withstand the tests of social anxiety, peer pressure, family troubles) matured and came of age in the hopeful 2000s (...the fall of the Twin Towers was however a period of global uncertainty and anxiety). The following years, looking back now, seem like a dream.
And I would not have it any other way, for I know I have been able to live a comfortable, perhaps even privileged life with opportunities for travel, to meet good, kind people, and for learning and work that I would have never imagined at fourteen. I would not have it any other way, even through those very dark, difficult and painful years in the lead up to dear, brave mum's passing, which was almost exactly 12 years ago.
From fourteen to forty (this year), it seemed to all go by in a flash.
Is that a good thing?
I can only imagine so.
Before the show, I met up with a Kiwi I met on a recent trip along the spectacular Brisbane Valley Rail Trail. We just seemed to hit it off, and biked a few hours together. Through just pristine outback terrain and cattle country, we biked and talked, and just somehow bonded. I'm glad we stayed in touch, and feel this is a good friendship that may blossom.
We are similar in age, and have many similar interests (in biking and exploring the world), and like me, she took a chance and packed up her stable life back home to try her luck in Australia. Of course, NZ is closer, and the countries are similar, but still, it does (as I said to her) take a lot of strength and courage to do what we have done, especially at an age when the 'convention' is to settle down, get a family, mortgage and just work till retirement.
But we seem to want more. People like us seem to have this sense of adventure and are not afraid of venturing out because we know that (against the frowning judgemental voices around us) if we do not do this, we would/most likely will regret it later in life.
If we do not pursue this strange lure of the unknown and foreign, and leave behind the comforts and familiarity of our settled lives, how can we ever grow? I remember just before coming to Australia, a friend asked me what I'm doing. "You're just throwing away everything and going on an extended holiday!"
Of course, it's all a big gamble, and I don't know what will come out of moving here after 10+yrs at my old job (in which I felt I had long plateaued in) to pursue this doctorate degree.
But I don't have regrets. I'm seeing more of the world. I'm learning how it is to live in the southern hemisphere, what it means to be "Aussie". And where else can you just bike and encounter kangaroos staring back at you?
