What if.

All my friends in Sydney finished school today and all it has left me feeling is curious. Often I wonder what my life would be like had I taken a different path in life. I know what I am writing is simply fiction but it doesn't detract from the possible life I could have had.
If I still lived in Sydney, I probably would either be dead and if not that then I definitely wouldn't still be in school. At least that was the path I was heading on. But with the assumptions of possible inertia, what would have happened if say, something came along and motivated me to stay at school and sort my life out that didn't consist of the words 'Melbourne' or 'dad'
All I know is that today would have been my last day of school and I would be ending a ridiculous 13 year journey and starting a new journey. Whether such said journey consisted of university, TAFE, a full time job or just a fortnightly payment made legitimate by the term 'the dole'. Commonly, it is said that 'What ifs' can choke you but perhaps all it is simply serving as in this situation is an opportunity to find the positives in the life I have now.

Whilst there are many good things that I potentially could have achieved had I stayed in Sydney, there is no escaping the harsh reality that could and probably would have been my life if I made the decision not to move. Chances are I'd either be on any and every drug you can think of, in jail, homeless again or worse, dead. The path I was heading on was one that was already filled with things that I shouldn't be alive because of or at least I don't deserve to be here so only God knows where I would be now.

I guess the point is that one decision, whether it be a big action like deciding to move interstate and change families or a small one that consists of something miniscule like meeting someone who could represent the path we could have taken which acts as a motivator has the potential to change your life in the most dramatic and huge way possible.

What if the people we meet are simply reflections of what other people could/would have become had they had chosen a different option with every situation.

Life is one big blur that people try and pretend they have figured out. The reality is that it is impossible to comprehend all the little concepts and possibilities that this life has to offer.
I guess because we can never really pin point where we could have or would have been had alternative decisions been made in our life, it should re-iterate the importance of appreciating what we have. Emphasis on the words 'it should'

The wheels on the bus go round and round

As a result of year 12 coming closer to the end, I tend to be seeing the reflection of journeys in almost everything I do. However; this one stood out to me the most.

Bus rides resemble the paths people take in life.
Lets pretend a bus in education. Everyone starts at different places and are going to different places to.
Some people get off the bus early (leave school) and many of those know where they're going to get home (home representing their career) but others who get of the bus may realise they got off too early and be made to wait for the next bus to come. My bus stop is considered a popular one. When you get off at peak hour, you're exiting the bus with at least 6 other people and today made me realise that it simply shows the way school can work.
(this part is only for those who finish year 12)
We all get off the bus at the same time, yet we head in all different directions. Some know where they go to get home, others are unsure. Others debate which way to go and whether to take the short cut or just go the normal way.
There are so many different options.

Mother Dearest

My mother always used to tell me ‘I don’t like you but I do love you’ and I could easily say the feeling is mutual. You can’t pick your family and this was made blatantly obvious as I was stuck growing with my welfare worker turned retail assistant turned car mechanic turned bus mechanic, now enrolled nurse and on again off again lesbian but never bi sexual mother. My mother is described as the crazy cat lady in her neighbourhood of Beverly Hills, NSW and this description couldn’t be any more accurate. My bipolar mother, named Rachel, has 5 kids with 4 different fathers, 7 cats, has lived in 4 out of the 8 states and territories and is self-described as ‘bored of things very easily’. On top of all this, she has had a stroke which has left her unable to smell or taste, a limp and unexplained stomach and headaches.

Hospital visits and suicide attempts weren’t a rare thing in my mother’s life. I don’t think she really wanted to die, but at the time, I believed that she did. The worst part about the situation I found us in was that you can never feel any more unimportant when your own parent wants to end their life with a total disregard to your own.  It all began in 2006, doctors describe it as a time bomb that was waiting to go off, I describe it as an event that was aided by the use of illicit drugs and stress.  On November 3^rd 2006, my mum returned from a 1.5 week stay in a mental facility diagnosed with Manic Depression/Bi polar disorder. To be honest, all I genuinely believe she should have been diagnosed with was hypochondria but doctors know best.  For the entire 2 years I resided with her, her life consisted of trips to and from the hospital that sometimes lasted a few months. So as a 12 year old girl, I was stuck looking after my then 5 and 7 year old siblings. Nothing speeds up your maturity than being placed in a parental role when you yourself are still a child.

Between the years of 2001 and 2004, the crazy cat lady lived in a 2 bedroom apartment in the centre of Carlton, NSW. Each school holidays, I would take the 65 minute flight in order to see her. The Carlton house was lonely and cold. My younger brother who was 2 and I were often left alone as mother dearest would go out for sometimes hours on end. At night time, the head lights of cars passing by would shine through the window and draw patterns on the roof and in the day time, the sky light was dimmed out with cardboard boxes and the TV would be blaring the tunes from kid shows across the house. Meals consisted of canned spaghetti and Devon and tomato sauce sandwiches and the amount of times we left the house would be minimal. I believe that people learn the most from the times they are alone. It gives us time to reflect and review all that is going on in our lives. As a 17 year old, I find myself having deep thoughts about the size of the earth compared to the universe and all the different thinks that make society function. But as a 7 year old, I found myself having thoughts about when mum would come home and where she was going. Eventually, dad found out about the life I was living during the holidays and I wasn’t allowed up for a while.

Rachel has never been able to make up her mind or stick with something long enough. She describes herself as someone who easily gets bored and that gives a clear indication as to why she goes through a sensationalised amount of careers and partners. In my lifetime, I can recall her working in 4 different areas of careers. This doesn’t actually account for the amount of jobs she’s had in those areas. Her career decisions provide obvious reflections as to how quickly she can not only move on from something but also someone. My mother is known for going through partners as she is jobs. Whilst she has held some steady relationships, most are quick ones that she only really ever got into for her own benefit and profit.

The collaboration of the many stories and characteristic of one of the world’s most erratic parents only provide a short insight into her true self. I believe that everybody has some sort of issue with a family member and often, like I even believe I do, exaggerate the flaws and faults in them to feel better about our own reactions.  If we had the ability to choose our family, I can positively say I wouldn’t pick Rachel as a mother. People would argue that the experiences I have been through in regards to her are ones that have matured and defined me but they have also damaged me and created not so good characteristics as well. I certainly do not like my mum, but I do love her because I believe everyone loves their family to an extent deep down.

Daddy Dearest

He never looks for praises
He's never one to boast
He just goes on quietly working
For those he loves the most
His dreams are seldom spoken
His wants are very few
And most of the time his worries
Will go unspoken too
He's there.... A firm foundation
Through all our storms of life
A sturdy hand to hold to
In times of stress and strife
A true friend we can turn to
When times are good or bad
One of our greatest blessings,
The man that we call Dad.
-silent strong dad; Karen Boyer

I have the greatest dad alive. I wouldn't ask for anyone better. I don't approve of his decision making in regards to his wife sometimes, just kidding, all the time, but my Dad is my rock and I love him

Absent parent is a title I like to give to my mum and my dad is far from that. He is away alot and it's been that way my whole life or at least as much as I can remember. I recall times in my childhood, early years; as in 4 or 5 when my brother was making me dinner, walking me to school and putting me to bed. I used to hate it with everything I had inside of me that it wasn't my only parent at the time that was doing these things for me but little did I know he actually was. He was working to provide the money to give me dinner, a bed to be tucked into and and opportunity to go to school. Not only was he working to give me those things but he was working to give those rights to workers all around the nation. I am a proud daughter for where he is and where he has brought me to today. I know he blames himself for alot of things that have occurred in my life and realistically, I will never be able to remove that guilt that isn't worthy of being laid on his shoulders.
Sometimes, it bothers me though. I think I hear his message bank on his phone more than his actual voice. I hear him talk to others more than he talks to me and I see him more on TV than I do in real life. I think it should bother me alot more but I know that he is helping so many people around the country and I'm happy that he devotes alot of his time to the people who need him most. I have gained independence and maturity from my relationship with him and I wouldn't want any other dad to be the one who taught me those things. 
On one side of the picture, I was stuck with pretty rough luck in regards to my mother
but my dad, well, he makes up for all the lost parenting. 

He taught me how to ride a bike and tie my laces too
he killed the little spiders that I thought were going to harm me
he took days of work when I was sick.
I remember his famous dish of powdered mash potatoes and meat pie + peas
He used to make me hot chocolate with homebrand powder and sugar and water with a little bit of milk
I learnt the concept of warm wheat bix from him.
My lunches were always made by him and my uniform washed
I've learnt all the basics from the most important person in my life and probably one of the very very few people I have no hate for.
I love my dad.

the end of innocence

I remember the time I discovered Santa was not real so vividly. I was in prep (or kindergarten as they like to call it in Sydney) and Santa had written us all letters. I was so excited to get mine and I remember the letter exactly. It was on a white A4 piece of paper, the centre was coloured in green crayon with a red crayon border and the writing was in black crayon. I read the letter which told me something along the lines of how I had been well behaved and Santa would bring me what I like if I continue to be this way. I was so excited that Santa would take the time out of his busy schedule to write me, Sarah a letter. Then, I put the letter on the table, writing side down and there, on the back, read the name of my year 6 buddy, Joshua. Unfortunately, I wasn't smart enough to realise that if I pretended to still believe in Santa, he would still come, so that was the last time the big red jolly fella came to visit my house.

In hindsight, prep was such an innocent year for everyone. We were too young to be held accountable for our actions and too young to understand most of them to.

At St Helens Park Primary Schools presentation evening of the year 2000, I was awarded with the schools 'science and technology award' and as a result, my name was carved into a plaque which now sits in the office foyer of the school. Frequently, I find myself wondering if people notice my name on that as much as I pay attention to the names that are printed onto the un-updated wooden boards that hang in the hall of my school now.

When people reflect upon their times as a little child, at face value they tend to label the period as 'simple and full of insignificant issues' but I do believe quite the opposite.

Perhaps being called 'stupid' and an 'idiot' sound rather trivial now but it is all a reflection of the path we travelled. Individuals often discuss how much they have changed in a certain period of time but the reality is that they're still that little human they were when they were 5. They still get treated the same way, just with more mature words like 'dumb fuck' and 'fat and ugly'. People change, yes! I am not denying that, but not everyone changes.

When I look back on being a child, I don't remember a lot. Some may say that's a good thing, I think it's bad. I do however, remember being a little girl living in a house with the most amazing father and brother anyone could ask for. I remember having the perfect family of three and although my dad worked very often and that has been the same my whole life, my brother did a pretty good job looking after me. I was happy. I was free. I was innocent. I WAS ME!

haha, then the evil step mother entered the life of Sarah but that's a whole different story.