Thinking, thinking, thinking.

Thinking is what I do, I understand how I think and what I think.
Thinking is easy.
All throughout primary and secondary school I was far too focused on my home life and what others thought of me, that I never really got to learn anything concrete from the school curriculum.
Growing up, I really just had myself.
Most the people in my life at that time didn’t really want to, or have time to, or even know how to listen to what I had to say; so I thought.
I thought of better places, of conversations I’d like to have had, of the after life and before life and my life, and of the life around me and the colours and the core and makeup of our world, I thought of who I wanted to be and how, why we are the way we are; if I’m different and why I would be different, why Dad’s different, why my life isn’t the same as others, why I see things differently to others; why others see differently to me, how the world has become what it’s become, who I like, who likes me, if anyone did like me or even could like me, I thought of all kinds of things and stuff and how’s and why’s and what’s, but I think I think too much.

You see, that’s what I’ve been doing these passed couple of weeks; thinking of what I should be doing, what I could be writing, how I can get things sorted out and what else I need to address for myself, and it’s all been necessary planning and thinking. Of course I’ve been going out socially to relieve myself of thinking, and I’ve been getting around life administration slowly and living life to the utmost and being happy with who I’m becoming,
I simply would like to make a point of doing more doing.

 

One thing I would really like to do is to understand the people in my family.
Among all this thinking, I’ve been having memories pop up every now and again, and seeing things with more of an understanding of how a person should treat another person, well; it’s been quite overwhelming to realise how unfortunately sad my life started out as.

On the bright side, most people I know of deal with these things at a much later time in their life; I feel incredibly blessed that I have managed to start healing at such a younger age than the usual.
However, that doesn’t make this all any less painful or easy or any less confusing.
Since Yamaya I’ve been wanting to build up the courage and understand the best way to ask my mother What Happened.

When did Dad’s “switch” flip? How did she meet my biological father, why did she really leave him? Why didn’t she stay with all the money and the life security, did she really not know she was pregnant with me when she met Dad? How did our family really respond when they all found out about me, how did they really accept my older sister into their family? What was Dad like when his OCD and Schizophrenia wasn’t fully taking over his mind? Do you really love him? Why did you drop Interior Design and become a nurse? Why did you turn to such an extreme form of Christianity? When did you realise there was a god? Why did your family really treat you the way they did, why did you choose Australia?Why did you treat me so differently?
Why did you choose Dad?
Would you change anything?

 

 

Are you happy?

 

 

 

 

 

—Tasha Jade

Ph Credit: India Rose
16/04