The starting point

I am currently loathed out on my couch inside this really confined space wondering if this is what I am destined to do. As I ponder my whole life from childhood memories, my parents both Mum and Dad were educators. I ponder deeply about the misperception of having everything of my childhood dreams. My childhood dreams were to be a ballerina, an actress, a teacher and a shopkeeper. I never ever doubted my parents ability to give me my childhood dreams. I was focused on becoming something, anything. I wanted to be an achiever so my parents knew that I respected them deeply. I had motivation inside me like a fire burning in my belly. To me my parents were so amazing, they would play games with me like dressups, hide n go seek, walking through nature explaing in depth the traditional knowledges of our environmental surroundings. We would venture off to many different swimming places. My Dad would often jump in bare bottom or not at all. I remember swimming was often the best thing on our adventure list way back when. Our healing place mainly for me and my sensitive skin (my dad never complained about his arthritis) was the geothermal natural spring baths. That was a ritual. Not an adventure. My parents educated us on the history of the springs, as they would explain the significance of each pool and the wonders each pool possessed. There was racial segrogation there at the pools way back when. I was so happy that the springs were no longer subjected to segregation because that would mean based on skin colour I wouldnt be able to swim with my own sister. I always listened attentively when my parents spoke as they were so intersting, good loving people, who had it all but just wanted to live happily without the stresses of comforming to the oppressive societial structures that are only getting worse nowdays.  

My parents always listened attentively when I spoke as we had a reciprocol understanding. I never saw any mistakes my parents made growing up wonderful until I hit adolescence. What I see now were my parents raising a safe and secure "me". My parents were together (may have been seperated only the two of them truley know) for most of my childhood, adolescence and adulthood. They were a team, we were a team. Not just a family. We were more than that so much more.

There were often times when I started questioning my parents, that was when I hit adolescence. I didnt like purberty one bit. My pimples reared out, thats the time I noticed my hair being dry and mangled as. I would always ask Mum if she could get me some hair dye and dye my hair really blonde, if it wasnt blonde enough she would go to the special shop to buy bleach solution. I could tell it was the real macoy because it was so pungent and a light bluey purple colour when mixed. I never regretted going bleach blonde. I had no idea  what toner was. I was a born blondie and my Mum would often ask my Dads mother, where does that come from? The reply was "a throw back". In adolescence I started sweating in places I didnt even know existed. When I looked in the mirror all I saw were pimples. I started having crushes on random as students at school mostly my age. Some were a year older. When I would get to know them though nothing really even clicked. Life was to interesting alone, or back at home in our family life to get along with randoms to be completly honest. My sister Tracy whom I had such a close bond with, didnt even recognise me most of the time I was invisible to her. She was going through adolescence aswell my sister is 2 years older than me. She had perfect skin, not one blemish, she never had pimples or rashes growing up. She was the best big sister anyone could ever ask for. My sister was baptised at the age of 8 in the church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. A very protective sister at the best of times. Sister would always be my biggest and bestest friend when I needed her to be. The friendships of now and then have changed dramatically. The sister I had was always up for spending time with me, we would bond over celebrating eachothers achievements, having a good joke here and there. Being amuzed in eachothers talents. Running theatrical evenings, having seminary beggining at 5:00am-6:00am, setting our goals to align with one an other, listening to eachothers musical choices.Reading magazines, shopping for clothes. I would always try to keep on trend. But I didnt even enjoy the trends. I had my authentic self worked out, but I wanted to blend in. Not stick out like a sore thumb. We did however watch the classics like lion king. That was a very sad movie. I cried alot during that movie. Sister would turn it off and take me to bed, tell me thats not what happens in real familes and tuck me into bed. My sister knew sign language, she changed her name because only the chosen few could pronounce it. I am yet to meet someone else with that name. It takes a strong independant person to  carry a name like she has. The name bestowed upon my sister was given im the form of a my fathers ritual. It was so sacred many efforts were made to make sure that she could have the name. The biggest christening was given to my sister at birth. People from all over the world gave gifts to her. The government instructed my mother whilst she was recovering from giving birth to my sister whom weighed over 11 pounds to give rights over for the government to collect statistical data anylasis. My Mum declined. They offered her payment. My mother declined. The staisical data management would have followed her around all her life and Mum didnt want that to happen. 

We both hated sleeping by the door at certain peoples houses. I still carry the scars from all the scratching when we would have mercy on me games. I genuinely loved all of my blood relations growing up. Those blood connections never hurt me. 

Our parents and grandmother funded sister off to boarding school. My sister was awarded a scholarship to attend aswell. Fees were due everyweek aswell as spending money in the malls. Life at home ended up being really boring once she left, my Mum hardly ever spoke, laughed or even got out of bed somedays. I dont think we (Mum, Dad, Grandmother) were prepared for her to leave so suddenly. We could count on her to smile for us when we lost ourselves in the big bad world. My sister would often be the kindest person in the home. Constanly cleaning most days. She loved animals, especially kittens and cats. Not so much mice, rats, spiders or rodents. I knew she had perfect skin well in comparrison to mine because I have sensitive skin you know hypoallergenic. Sudden waves of heat (too many blankets) , exposure to the sun (plenty of that here), sweat, exercise and stress factors impact on everyday life. I still have that to this day.

 My Aunty (Mums only sibling) has the same skin as mine so she says, I have never seen a rash on her face, arms or legs. I have seen her in many bikinis but never seen an ounce of redness or rosacia at all. I think she manages her skin really well, Aunty is particular about what she eats, her bedding, her personal hygiene, her clothing has to be sourced ethically, she walks briskly but not enough to work up a sweat. She is very healthy looking and she is petite. Aunty was a great rolemodel growing up aswell, now aunty is getting on, I really want to know her more, but I have a massive mistrust in society because of how deeply wrong they have been towards my own parents. How the constant belittling seems to get wound up. How deeply wrong the "lawyers, teachers, doctors, nurses, small minded what you ma call its" most of whom dont really know where they come from in heart and mind. They seem to be telling thier own biased stories about everything.  Oppression is still a real thing. Nobody talks about it nowdays. Have we really moved passed the oppression or is it just build a bridge and get over it.

The never ending shifts we had to make. I had a very transient lifestyle. It was great fun, it was an adventure of its own. 

The constant needing to rearrange our homes so often because where one place was good the next place often better. We moved around often, I really enjoyed staying in our homestead it was a really well built home made from native timber. Alot of places to go and visit with my parents guiding us around ofcourse. Really high ceilings that I could only see when the sun was out. No permanent light fixtures. A beautiful grandious mansion.

A beautifully embellished room with a tall glass cabinet with arms that ordained the   inside. An ordained set of matching white bedding adroned the bed. The room smelt of roses in bloom. I always peered in the bedroom. I knew it was a special place, to look but do not enter it. Everytime I peered into it, I could see it wasnt a room to do much in anyways. It was like looking in through space and time.

The uneducated ones would always came and ruin something for our team, family, blood connections. The uneducated lot always came around constantly asking my father for anything. My father being so genorous and kind would always let them take what they needed. He wasnt a possesive person. He had lots of what he needed and that was usually something yum and delicious to eat oh and ofcourse his family to love, which was without a doubt my sister and I and Mum. He was a brilliant minded sport enthusiast who had many talents. He was strong physically, he was quick witted, he played the guitar, he had a deep voice. I remember my parents being stopped by police for nothing, He wasnt speeding. The ute was registered and  warranted, he had a licence to drive. He was given a ticket and told to go straight home dont stop anywhere. We were 200kms away from home. My mother was so loud. It would take a lion, zebra and a goat colliding into a hemispherical rainbow to make my Mum that loud whilst on cruise control with my father at the wheel. My father had been operating vehicles since way back. He was a very hardworking person. He never sat idle for very long in my childhood. He taught us to be wise with money. But that lesson is yet to be proven true. 

many people as they come because people are often misleading, diguising a hidden agenda, cause confusion for fun and have alterior motives oh and this is a typical Aunty lesson " people tell lies".