Independence is not a dirty word

It's ok to be an independent woman in this world.

I've been an independent woman now for a long, long time and love the freedom it provides me. The freedom to roam the world, explore new places and old, meet new people and learn more about myself with every little thing that I do. The sheer number of times people have said to me “Oh you’re so brave” or “Aren’t you scared?” or “Don’t you get lonely” makes my heart break for the adventures these people are missing out on. So as I appear to be such an anomaly in this world, I’ve been trying to think back to when there was a time when I was not so brave or did get lonely…I’m always bloody scared so let’s ignore that one! How and when did I become so independent? And why? What was it that led me to be brave and go it alone? Why have I always been (in my honest opinion) more independent than my peers? Why have I lived through seemingly the toughest times in modern history (COVID lockdowns in Victoria, Australia) with little to no support? Why have I managed to move across the country, across the ocean, and back again with nothing more than a “well that was an adventure” attitude?

Photo by Daria Mamont on Unsplash - this is not me, I have few photos like this of me on my travels.

Why have I not settled for the regular life programmed into us from birth? Get a job, find a husband (or wife), buy a house and have kids, not necessarily in that particular order. The only thing I’ve achieved in those four was to get a job! And why have I not felt wrong or less than for not wanting or needing all of the above? Why, and how, have I made such a beautiful life for myself, by myself? Some would say through sheer stubbornness (apparently I was a stubborn child), others would say through necessity, when you're on your own, well you're on your bloody own! I would say it was a combination of different life experiences. Much of it was accidental, but a lot of it had to do with my upbringing, for all it's good and bad parts, and my parents’ divorce. As a young girl I was always told I could do anything and be anything I wanted, by both parents. I was never hindered and I was never pushed but looking back with curiosity, I do think that my upbringing, specifically their divorce in the early 80’s, was pivotal to the development of my independence and ability to be self-reliant at quite a young age. I took various jobs in my youth from baby-sitting kids I barely knew to mucking out stables, and travelled all across the state to work as a strapper at local horse races. My parents never gave me money unless I earned it by doing jobs. Pocket money was not free.

The divorce definitely shaped who I am in more ways than one. I mentioned before that I was told that I could do anything, even more so after the divorce. But my parents divorce enabled me to be far more independent and free as a child than would have been the case if they had stayed married. My parents got divorced in the very early 80’s, in fact I would confidently guess that it was 1983. I was nine going on 10. The only way I remember this is that me, my younger brother and older sister were all at the same school, primary school, well at least for part of the year. This was the only year in our entire schooling that we would all be at the same school, and we didn’t even make it to the end together! My brother was in Prep (the first year of primary school), I was in Grade 4 and my older sister was in Grade 6, her last year of primary school before going on to high school. My brother and I left at the end of Term 3 to start at a new school for Term 4, while my sister stayed and finished her final term of primary school with all her friends. As I recall we were one of the first families in our primary school to go through separation and divorce. It was considered an affluent area at the time and I lost a lot friends because I was from a “broken home”. I became the kid from the wrong side of the tracks. One kid told me to my face her parents banned her from engaging with me because of my parents separation. Pretty harsh for a 10-year-old, so it won't come as a surprise that I was quietly glad to leave it all behind and start at a new school. At the new school we weren’t the only ones from a broken home, or who had stepmothers, stepfathers and step-siblings. In fact I would say even though we were on the wrong side of the tracks, it truly felt like the right side for a time. Before we moved on again.