I thought it a brave and exciting thing to move to Melbourne a few years ago. Although I’d been out of home since about 17, this was a much bigger step than before. All this crazy stuff to adjust to, like new places, new jobs, new people and too many busy roads, I was in a panic every day! But I visited home in the country regularly, and everything was going OK.
Then came the real scary part. I was required to adjust and function according to the following unexpected facts:
1. There are these women called “Aspergirls” and I might be one of them!?
2. My Dad was moving interstate. (With a new family)
3. My Mum and siblings were moving overseas. (To a new family)
BAM. These unavoidable facts blew me around in a chaotic whirlwind of events, emotions and catastrophes until one day I found myself living on my own in a strange suburb with no job, rent to pay and two mouths to feed. (There was a puppy in the equation)
You wanna know what I did?
I danced, I sang (I sometimes I cried) I watched Sailor Moon all night and covered my apartment with fairy lights, I cuddled my puppy (and cleaned up his pee) I worked (sort of) and paid all my bills (just) and I explored all the things I loved to do… Because I damn well could.
There may have been weeks that I couldn’t get out of my beautiful blanket cave and I may have made a lot of very strange decisions, but nothing has ever empowered me more than that year of pure independence.