Saying Goodbye to my Village

So the goodbyes have started.. And they suck a fat one. I mean, they were never going to be easy but I’m struggling more than I thought I would. Stress of the move + leaving + trying to tell 2 x houses + baby that doesn’t sleep = I am insane.

However, I’m a fairy sensible woman (ahem) so I am able to conduct myself with decorum and not have a big ugly cry every time I think about how I’ll probably have no friends in Feilding and its likely the only reason I have friends here is because they haven’t been able to politely tell me to bugger off. Sob sob.

Seriously though, these last two weeks are proving to be bittersweet. I’m loving catching up with people and reminiscing about our adventures but each goodbye is tinged with the “so.. I’m not sure when we’ll meet again..”.

And that’s rough.

Because I’m a feathery strokery social worker, I subscribe to the  old adage that it takes a village to raise a child. And I see this as two part in my Christchurch journey. I arrived here, a child of 19 and was raised by many, wonderful, inspirational, fabulous people. I leave, a woman of 33, having two children of my own and having to say goodbye to those who have lifted me and my children up on a regular basis.

When I think back to the start of some of these relationships, I had no idea how important they would be. The tattooed, braided girl behind the reception at the nightclub (ahem again), the teeny Scottish girl whose marriage I am responsible for (I am, actual) the random actress who came in as the third witch in our musical, the ginger in the mini skirt who turned up to my 23rd birthday party, the purple haired girl who I told we were likely to be great friends and the maori girl who travelled with a pack of gay men. These women have turned into some of the biggest contributors to my life and I know they’re lifers. We have lived together, cried together, drunk all the things together, smoked more of the things together (more ahem), holidayed together, fought, pashed, hugged, made up and had babies together. Girls, you know who you are. Thank you for getting me through my twenties and safely into my thirties. I can’t wait for you to carry me into my forties after I’ve drunk all the gin.

I joined a community theatre group in 2005 which has pretty much impacted my entire social life in Christchurch. Almost all of the above have come through there in some form. I’ve had the friggin time of my life and cannot thank them enough for taking me under their wing at the time when mine were broken. It’s all about the chorus guys (go, Steve, go!).

Then I had my kids. And by god – nothing was more fantastically, terrifyingly isolating then being a first time mum. So my communities changed a bit and I met a group of girls with kids the same age and we have pretty much lived in each other pockets. Their children were Tilly’s first best friends and we will miss the absolute crap out of you. Who will I drink wine and ignore my kids with now??

There have many other members of this village, almost too many to mention. Work colleagues, school friends, friends of friends, ex partners and so on. That’s the beauty of a village, you can take a little something from everyone and be the best you. I am exactly who I am because of everyone on my journey. And it’s not over. I will keep those who have travelled with me close and I will (hopefully) meet more wonderful members of our new village. I’m pretty excited about new friends (be cool, Carole).

He aha te mea nui o te ao?

(What is the most important thing in the world?)

He tangata, he tangata, he tangata

(It is the people, it is the people, it is the people)

Thank you to my people xx

Ta ra for now

C xx









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