Ghosts of the past

Of course, once upon a time, I was a child and not long after that, a teenager. And going through boxes and boxes of stuff from my past, I have been well confronted with my treasures and keepsakes from those days. Also a box school work, art, lessons, sums. Mum decided to keep lots of seriously useless pieces of paper representing my complete lack of talent for drawing. And also lots of sums, all of which I did wrong. I have never had any comprehension of numbers and how they relate to each other. Words, however...I found one of my first poems on riding a bike in the wind, written at age 10 or 11. Cute. Also a story I had to write as punishment for forgetting my books in my Dutch class, about a girl who forgot her books. Another story, quite well written for a 15 year old, and I got an 8.5 (in Holland often grades were given out of 10). It was only the beginning.

Funny stuff. I was a funny kid. Full of imagination. Crazy about Lego, Playmobil, Barbies. (Still have most of those and cannot bear to give them away. Maybe one day I will have a child! And they'll be just like me, full of imagination!) Any alternate world I could get lost in with my best friends Kim and Emily. I could spend hours living in a tiny world completely of my own making. Not very different from when I was a teenager when I would spend hours writing stories, still creating other worlds. I continued that well into my twenties. What do you mean, escapism?

I think I was a relatively happy child, I mean, I remember it being a happy childhood -I think I was a pleasant, cheerful child to be around. I used to get terribly frightened at night, though. Nights of not being able to go to sleep. Always had a light on. Too scared to go to the toilet. Wanting to wake my mother. I couldn't stand the dark. I was terrified of ghosts. That's what really always got to me, because ghosts were so elusive, they could go through walls, you were never safe. For a child with an over-active imagination, it wasn't fun being in the dark. I could see stuff in every shadow, was sure I saw something, curtains moving, an eye gleaming. I was sent to go and see someone about it, back in primary school. She was a nice lady, always had licorice and Ranja (cordial) and I remember doing drawings and playing games. She had me make my own cute ghost out of an old sheet, with a kind face. I enjoyed seeing her. Don't think it did much for my fear of ghosts, though.

In contrast to my cheerful childhood full of happy imaginative worlds with friends, I was a seriously morose teenager. My goodness. Very, very melancholic. Seriously wistful to the extent of wanting to be somewhere else almost at all times. Obsessed with wanting to live in a fairytale castle. I have many, many sketches of pretty little chateaus in beautiful forests, by a lake with a jetty and a small boathouse where events took place. Many, many stories of a girl who lived in such a place, loved by a handsome, wonderful young man, with delightful friends and generous parents. But those stories always had a dark twist. Kidnap, torture, murder, angst. Eek. I told you about my dark patch. I like how Dexter (tv series, love it) refers to his dark side as the 'dark passenger'. I have one of those. He's mostly accommodated in a comfortable business lounge these days, so he stays out of my hair, but back in my teens, he was kind of ruling my world.

It wasn't fun being a teenager, though I had everything and more that I could wish for. My mother has always given me more than I would ever give a child. Every Barbie accessory, every Playmobil set, Lego with lights in it, ballet lessons, expensive clothes, weekends away, ski holidays, summer holidays, friends were allowed to come,  I was well cared for.  I wish I could go back to my teenage self and tell me how bloody ungrateful I was. I'm sure I was told once in a while. But teenagers don't comprehend that sort of stuff.
For some reason, I was convinced that being someone other than myself would be better. There was absolutely NOTHING wrong with me, I was slim, pretty, witty, all sorts of lovely stuff, I danced a lot, so I had a perfect figure and super long legs back then (Not so much now :S). I had a few terrifically loving boyfriends (consecutively, not all at the same time!)  But I was so bloody mopey! Such a downer all the time. Could not grasp that I was just fine. I needed to hear it constantly, all the time, all I wanted to hear was how bloody fabulous I was, and if I was told, I couldn't believe it. Pah! What a nightmare. Sorry Mum!

Luckily, when I was seventeen and at a fantastic school (Vrije Hogeschool voor de Kunsten, every teenager should attend it) I was told the truth by my best friend and my boyfriend at the time: that I was such depressing company. That I brought people down with my negative attitude. Bloody hard to be told that, I have to tell you. It hurt like hell. I cried and cried and my dark passenger was sitting there laughing in my face, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. I went through a very, very dark time. But thankfully, I was also told that I had the power to change my life, that only I could do that, and nobody else.

And now, looking back on it, it feels like I changed just like that. I chose I didn't want to be the kind of misery-loves-company-type of person. I didn't want to spread doom and gloom. I decided to cheer the hell up. And it was so easy! It was so bloody easy to smile and be cheerful. I moved to a most awesome city called Utrecht, into a lovely house with a friend from my old school among my housemates, got a job at the Jaarbeurs (exhibition center) and came to make new friends, who thought I was fun. I had an awesome housemate called Sandra, who lived in the room next to mine, we'd go roller skating together, we both had beautiful black leather roller skates, I still have them. We had so much fun. We've lost touch, I hope she is well. So many people from my past that I've come across over the last few weeks, little notes passed in classrooms, letters and postcards (this was before the internet was king!) I wish I could visit them all again, tell them 'thanks - you made a difference in my life'. Plenty of memories stored in my bank of happiness.

Anyhow, at work I met a girl who had just come back from backpacking around Australia. She convinced me to go. And well, that's how I became a Dutchstralian.