FREEDOM... another point of view!
The story of Sonja …
My family and friends all thought I was crazy when I would say:“ I wish I had more freedom to be me!” I knew nothing but what I had in my life … all the best things, things that any normal person would give their teeth for, so they said. Yes, my home life left nothing to be desired with a big house, big bedroom of my own with a bathroom just for me. My mother was a superb cook who knew everything there was to know about health, nutrition and presentation of our meals. It was never a problem having friends come over to eat and have a sleep over because my parents were welcoming of that. I was driven to school every day in a comfortable car with all the latest and greatest of features and when any new technology came into vogue, we were one of the first households to acquire it. My school was a private one with great teachers and my grades were worthy of the odd award here and there. Clothes were plentiful in my cupboard and if there was a special event, I simply went to the shops and bought something new to wear, along with the accessories to match. Everything was ordered and easy! So, you may be thinking, what was the problem! My problem was that while I had a good life, I simply didn’ t know who I really was. Was I just a replica of the family gone before, because of my genes or was I a unique person with special and significant traits of my own? I had to find out.
It was a rather cold and unfriendly night when I set out to go into town to investigate what“ life” was really all about, at the age of 16. I had every intention of going home again, so it came as quite a surprise to me, as well as my family, when I phoned them the next morning to say I had spent the night with some special people in the city and had gone home to their share house to see how the“ other half” live. The real shock came when I said that I was going to stay there for one week or so, to explore more of what motivated these people and scurrilously requested that Mum please let my high school patron know that this was“ research”. It was done! Now I could really find out what substance I had, as I thought I could make some kind of a difference.
The lifestyle seemed so“ free” and I could do whatever my heart desired … I was standing on the doorstep of freedom! Or so I thought. It wasn’ t long before I found out that the shoe was on the other foot.
The people I now lived with didn’ t have a lifestyle at all and certainly no motivation to action. What they had was a lazy style, a style that had no rules, no control and I had no rights to be the person I felt I was. An identity crisis is what I was confronted with.
My life had gone backwards fast with no healthy food, no time limits, no privacy, no character building or the ability to change anything for the better. In all the hostility that hung in the air in that share house I did get to know a lovely young woman who taught me, indirectly, that freedom needed discipline in order to have life’ s options, education in order to make decisions about the future and all about someone to love and care for us.
Lilly had a very short family life with her parents and because of the intimidating influence of her home life where abuse of one kind and another ruled everyone, every day, Lilly was taken away from her mother and put into a foster home where she had to learn another set of“ rules” to try to comply with in order to please her carer and show her“ worth”. At the age of 15 Lilly took to the streets with nothing but her clothes, a sleeping bag and $ 50 in her purse that happened to have“ fallen” out of her carer’ s bag! During the year that followed, Lilly had couchsurfed in so many different places she had lost count. In doing so she had also lost her dignity, lost her friends, lost her trust and her ability to get back on track with her life. It was when Lilly said“ All I want is the freedom to be myself, get an education and show what I can do with my life” that it hit me like a brick … freedom was just about everything I had left behind in order to“ find” freedom.
Needless to say, my next phone call was to my poor, depressed mother and father. They had never stopped looking out for me. I always had money in my account in the 6 months I was away from them but I hadn’ t given them anything in return, not even my company, occasionally. When I stopped to think about it they had allowed me to do what I needed to do, in order to find out what was going to sustain me as the unique person I believed I was. They gave me the freedom to disrupt my education, to live a lifestyle that others had no choice about. What had l learned? All I learned was how to fall into a mold that stifled me and my abilities.
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