Insights By Gabrielle Thomson I wrote this a year ago so... The town stank like fertilizer, or so the newspaper said. The town was disgusting, dark and dingy, a metaphorical trash can, or so the newspaper said. It probably is dirty. Every town in this country probably is. Maybe the town has a bit too much pollution covering the stars at night. So what? This town is my home. It’s crazy how where you live, your home, isn’t always where you belong. There are those lucky people who live where they belong. Some people are unlucky, living not where they want to but where they have to or are forced to. If it was my choice, I wouldn’t choose to live above the mechanic, but if this is the place where Mum and Banjo are, then I’d choose above the mechanic every time. Mum is that person who shines like a beacon even in the darkest time. She is the definition of positive, optimistic. She helps me with anything I need, whether it be if I am struggling with homework, or if I just had a rough day. She loves making little games, sometimes fun ones like ‘The Smart-word Game’ where we pretend to be smart and confuse confusion with befuddlement and embellish with bespangle. Sometimes the games were deep like ‘Older’. In that game we would sit down, and talk about what we want to do, who we want to be, when we are older. I would always say: “I want to do great things, change the world.” Mum was like that. She believed I could change the world. I never would have guessed what she was going through. I was young when I realised it. A discovery that changed my world forever. I was way too young when I realised what Mum was dealing with. At that age, I was troubled by seeing Mum struggle. It was during a game when Mum’s positivity shattered. It was one of the normal games, ‘Insights’. Insights started back when I was 3. I used to love sharing my view of the world, even when I was little. Insights is basically a discussion but fun. It gave me a window into Mum’s world, an experience to walk in her shoes. Even though some of the stuff she shared I did not understand, and some of the stuff I shared she did not understand, it was a really special time of connection between us. This Insights had a different feel, one of importance, of something large approaching. It had been a difficult day at school, so Mum just knew what I needed, and that I had to talk. I unpacked everything that happened that day, through my point of view. That was the sort of connection we had. During the discussion, Mum’s face fell, her shoulders slumped and oh, the vast amount of sorrow in her eyes, I was unsure one person should be dealing with that much. I wrapped my arms around her, strong and steady. Inside, I had no idea what to do or what the matter was, I just knew I had to console her. I would have liked to say something strong and determined, but all I could think was “I can’t handle this.” I am ashamed to say that in that moment I was on the verge of giving up and letting all the darkness wash over me as well. +
+ Don’t forget Banjo, ever present and prepared, instantly curled up in her lap, snuggling in close. I intertwined my fingers with hers and slowly ran our hands down the soft, shaggy fur. It helped us both a bit. For me, knowing that there was someone else to help Mum, and for her, knowing that there is good in the world. You really can’t describe how much help pets can give you. Pets hear you in a way that no human ever will and are constantly there, ready for a pat after a draining day. It was our dog who really got me and Mum through this struggling time. Banjo is a hero. Still stroking Banjo, she built the courage to whisper “I am not ok.” I guess sharing with someone really helps you. I wish I could be as brave as Mum was, sharing the fact that she wasn’t ok. Without that moment, we wouldn’t have known what she was dealing with. That she was fighting a constant battle with the darkness which was trying to drag her under. With Banjo by my side, I decided to pull my family through this dark time. It was just then I felt a ray of light, giving me the courage and strength to stand strong and fight for Mum and everyone else fighting the darkness. At first, Mum resisted getting a counsellor but slowly she was convinced. The counsellor we chose, Lexi, was cheerful and serious, and had the experience we wanted. Over time I could see the connection between Lexi and Mum grow, and I found that Mum was slowly returning to her old self, becoming bubbly and compassionate, something I will ever be glad about. She has shown resilience and strength, and that people can rise out of the never-ending darkness. There are good days and bad days, and I respect that. Sometimes Mum is feeling fine, making up new games to play with me. Other times she lies in bed as the hours tick by. Occasionally, I get scared by the fact that if the most optimistic person I know got taken over than surely someone like me will stand no chance. There are times I have found myself cornered by the harrowing void. There is always the same feeling of despair, of uselessness and worthlessness. Every time I drag myself back up by patting Banjo, hugging Mum, or just looking over my achievements. It varies how long each stint lasts; some can last a day while others just a few minutes. I never know when it will start, or finish, but I know that I have people there for me during this time and that I can fight the somber times. I can now say that I, Ayla Keira Archer, am a fighter, and I am determined to do everything in my power to stop the inner darkness.
