Have a written a post already entitled “complexity”? Probably. Sorry I’m not more original.
It’s been one of those days where I’ve begun to reflect on the year gone and thought flip, what did I do this year?
I saw the beginning of it with my lovely cousin Sasha and enjoyed the day with my favourite aunt and uncle. I completed yet another year of youth working. I saw India and all her beauties. I played superhero to people who needed me to fly them out of their trouble. I parented my teenage sister. I was inspired and I was tired. I am tired.
This is about the point where I start to get all depressed and whine about all the crap, but I don’t think I’ll do that here. Because it might give you the impression that my year was completely lame. It wasn’t entirely. It was a real year of growth. I learned lots. I learned what it was to operate in community and how fragile we can be in the collective. It’s like building card towers. Each card upholds another, pull one away and it’ll fall apart. Every now and then, if you pull one out from the side, it might not fall down, but the fragility increases. We need each other to keep strong.
I think I’ve learnt lots about myself this year. But I also feel as if I’ve lost pieces of myself in all the confusion. When my family all moved away last year, I lost the space to really be myself. UPR was that place where we had created this space we could really be ourselves. We were a bunch of kids playing in the cul-de-sac, partying in the backyard and learning to dance to Justin Timberlake. As I sit here in my lounge, listening to old skool Usher and contemplating the child I once was, I realise how little has actually changed in reality. I’m still that kid who would love to play cricket in the cul-de-sac whilst listening to cricket commentary on my walkman. I’m still the girl who listens to R&B and loves it. I’m still the girl who wants to hang in that garage in Porirua and siva (Samoan dance) for her mama (grandmother). There was something so simple and yet so complex about it all.
I hate it when people tell me I’m the whitest Samoan they’ve ever met. While it’s true, it’s also not. It’s complex. I haven’t quite learned to allow the worlds to overlap. When I start crossing the Samoan and the Kiwi and the Western worlds, I feel like things border on the brink of explosion. AND when I start allowing the secular and the religious to cross, the brew really begins to heat and bubble. Some people really learn to balance and be within all the different worlds but I haven’t quite learned how to balance with the ebbs and the flows. I end up molding to fit wherever I am. I’m never constant but ever changing. It’s actually really frustrating because I don’t know consistency. This seems to be the song of frustration for my entire life.
It makes me feel like such a drama queen writing about all this but I’m really frustrated with how life is in the present. I don’t want to change to fit any one world and yet at the same time I know I have to. The biggest frustration in all of it is journeying so closely with someone and allowing them access to your various worlds. And when they belong to one of those worlds, it gets so freakin’ complicated. They know that one facet of you and have known that facet for years. So learning the other dimensions, you start to realise that this relationship could rise or fall. This is one of my many current insecurities.
Oh man… I need an out of town holiday… considering a road trip somewhere away from here…