School

I left school before I was 16. This isn’t something that I share with anyone – not even my children. In my circle, only my closest family members know this; but then they are also the ones who know my most closeted secrets. I have never told a single friend of this fact. I believe that it would surprise most, if not all people that I have known as an adult, and drastically change their perceptions of me. Leaving school young has its stereotype theories of not being smart enough or having a lower-socioeconomic background. Neither is correct. While my parents weren’t wealthy as such, they always worked in a professional environment; with my mother completing her science degree and working as a qualified professional within her chosen field, and my father working his way up the health business ladder to success the old-fashioned way – hard work, personal drive and perseverance. 

As for me, I was an almost painfully conscientious student striving for the top marks, which I achieved in most subjects. I was a square; a nerd; a ‘good girl’; a perfectionist even at that time – though I didn’t label myself as these things back then. While I excelled academically and flowed through primary school and the beginning years of high school relatively easily, everything changed towards the end of eighth grade. The girls in my grade who used to be my friends didn’t accept me anymore. Although I had a couple of best friends and also hung out with my sister and her best friend, there could be a variety of reasons that I can think of why I didn’t fit in with the majority of other girls: I was just too different; I developed and emotionally matured later; or I didn’t follow the crowd enough. Many years later I even wondered whether my downfall with them came about from the two hair-modelling gigs that I’d had with an award-winning Australian hairdresser and international brand which meant that I missed a couple of school days over several weeks. Or was it because my sister, her friend and I choreographed dances – and danced on stage – for our monthly school ‘Blue Light’ discos? Did they think I was weird or just ‘up-myself’? Whatever the reason, although I agonised – and had anxiety and nightmares – about this for many years afterwards, in the end some things are never answered and don’t matter. What matters is that what I perceived to be my large, overcrowded, hormonally-fuelled, sometimes violent and impersonal public high school and I just did not mix well; especially compared to the smaller, warm, safe and fuzzy comforting-blanket of my previous school. 

I fell quickly into work and I loved earning money; it gave me a sense of freedom and autonomy. Still, despite my partial longing for safety, my contentment with remaining close to my family within our familiar coastal town did not last long, with any fear of leaving being overshadowed by a more intense fear of ‘settling down’. Fantasies about weddings, marriage, having babies and white picket fences never entered my mind whilst growing up. Ever. Therefore, I felt that I would have emotionally stagnated and drowned had I stayed. The entire world was waiting. Luckily for me, my sister felt the same. So we planned our escape.