Out of myself

This evening I watched an Australian Story on ABC about Dr Gregory Smith, 63 years old now, and he passed his Southern Cross University PhD in 2016. But that wasn’t who he was when he actually arrived at Southport TAFE in 2003. His family had been a shocking way to live his youth – his father beat him up; his mother gave him and his sisters to an orphanage, where mistreatment had no boundaries from religion. 

Fast forward, and Gregory Smith is nowadays a lecturer at a university. 63 years old, and with a PhD – did I already say that?? Why did this bug me? 

Five and a half years ago my ex left our marriage. By July 2013 I received my Graduate Diploma for Occupational Health & Safety, found out I had a brain aneurysm, and two months later, after 7 years with ‘that employer’, I was fired. Six months later, April 2014, I was in hospital for my brain aneurysm surgery, and found out that I’d had a stroke with aphasia. Life can seem to change when you never wanted it to. 

I’d been 49 when we moved to Aus. For me, that wasn’t even really old! In my hometown in Hamilton, New Zealand, I had been to the university but I never finished that degree. My future had no purpose or plan. I had been assessed for entry to Mensa (have been a member for more than 30 years) but I couldn’t find companionship. I worked in very good jobs, but I was made redundant twice – one from WEL Energy and one from Telstra; certainly not my choice but I wouldn’t – couldn’t – move to Auckland for Telstra. 

I spent much of my spare time writing. That started when I was very young, but I don’t have many old papers in Australia – I left them in NZ before mum died and I have no idea what happened to them. One folder was my fight for swimming pool fencing: I was attacked because no-one wanted to pay for a fence to protect their children! That folder was left in NZ, yet, strangely, that feeling re-entered my life in Brisbane when one of the properties that we rented had a lovely pool – and it turned out that the actual fence was not legal. I did a lot of research about it, something that made me feel good. 

I did a lot of research for other things that wound me up: rent, homelessness, refugees, income, rape…  In January 2012 my first blog Whacksworks appeared.  I worked for TEDx at Southbank for their first event at the end of 2012, and at the evening of celebration I fell into tears which I couldn’t get out of. I had some wonderful supporters, and they convinced me to start my two websites – 2012, It’s Okay to be Angry, about my rape at 17 years old and 2013, Reibus. I started more blogs - they all still exist: It’s Okay to be Angry blog and Aneurysms Aphorisms, about my aneurysm, which are both still available but not used now. One blog from 29 December 2012 gives links to It’s Okay to be Angry website and blog and the Aneurysms Aphorisms blog.

Early 2013 I started a One Billion Rising Brisbane Facebook page (still there) and took around 30 wonderful dancers on a flash mob in Queens Mall, and I joined a Vagina Monologues play in Brisbane’s CBD. I also volunteered at La Boite theatre and at a magazine at QUT, both in Kelvin Grove, walked the Zonta walk for 6km at Newstead and the Walk 1 Mile walk at Ipswich, got my face painted as a ghoul for the Zombie walk… So much I did before I ended up in hospital! 

After my surgery and stroke I moved to the north side of Brisbane, Redcliffe: firstly to Woody Point then onto Scarborough. I wanted to volunteer (I couldn’t really do anything other than that) so I sat a barista certificate and volunteered for a kite event as a coffee maker. Later I joined the Redcliffe art gallery as a volunteer and took on the art gallery newsletter, and had a book meeting for my first novel which surprisingly took me out of my intrusive thoughts about my rape when I was 17. The book wasn’t particularly good because I wasn’t completely back to ‘normal’ language with my aphasia, but I had some wonderful reviews about it.  

So how was I getting on with people? To me, now, it seems I couldn’t get on with most of them. I joined a gym in Redcliffe but I had to leave it because I didn’t really feel ‘in’, even though I had been with gyms in NZ and ever since I’d moved here. I joined a heart group who did a walk around inside the Kippa-Ring mall, but I quit that because no-one talked to me. I joined a canoe group for breast cancer – which I have not had – and I was talked out. Eventually, 15 months after moving there, I felt I was paying too much rent for my small house, so I left and moved up to Noosa for a short stay, then all the way down to Bethania, to a retirement village. Which, of course, was my bad decision. Have a read about what they did to me and my beautiful dog! Homeless, yes, that was me, but only for one week, thankfully! I found a unit in Eagleby and moved there until 13 months later when I found out that it was illegal, so I had to move again. The next move was another bad decision, although I started my online course, Bachelor of Arts majoring in Journalism, from there and very much enjoyed the study. 

It had been 3 and a half years since a carer at Mylestones found me a recovery job in Darra, 10 hours a week, my first recovery work. I moved on to Bellbird Park to be closer to work, and my unit has been the best place I chose so I hope I won’t lose it! I joined a Redbank Plains gym at the start of the year, but my beautiful dog died (naturally) in March, my NZ daughter-in-law died in April, I went downhill into depression and had to walk away from the gym.  The recovery job only lasted 9 months when I was – again – made redundant. I don’t think I could continue to work for 10 hours a week, but I could not work any longer than that because even that short time made me very, very tired.

Recently I recovered enough to get back into my BA study. This year I will have completed the Grade 1 and I hope to stay with the degree and actually finish it! I hope that I can then do a Masters degree, and then maybe, just maybe, I can get a PhD. Am I planning too far ahead? 

Dr Gregory Smith, on Australian Story last night, seemed to have grown up much worse than me, although I have memories most of my life, some very good and some very bad. If I am planning ‘too far ahead’, then I hope I will continue with the study year by year, won’t let it get me down.

I’m 61 now. That’s an excellent age!