The Invisible Man...

Yesterday I had $1 in my bank account.

I searched the house for lose change to get me on the train to the city for today's PD. I'd already thanked the universe for the positioning of two PDs into my week which were accessible by train...especially when the shrill beep began which signified the rapidly emptying petrol tank last night. I had to get thru to Wednesday arvo...then I could fill up!

Leaving the car at the station I sat and enjoyed the ride into the city, a luxury I am rarely ever afforded.

Exiting the station into bustling Melbourne city I followed my phones gps to the pd destination, walking in rhythm with the throng of those around me. A mixture of suits, uniforms, casual wear...all with a purpose and destination in mind.

As I walked up to the destination I noticed on a metal seat outside there was a red, open mound of a sleeping bag. As I walked past I looked carefully but it simply looked like a traveller had dumped their things there, for no human could be seen under the crumpled pile.

At morning tea break I exited to buy a water at the McDonalds across the road and the red sleeping bag was folded upon a backpack and there sat a man. Asian in appearance, watching as the world walked by him.

And walked by they did. Fast, slow, chatting, silent...all walked past, no glance, no acknowledgment. He was the invisible man.




I entered the PD once more and felt like the biggest loser and selfish person in the world. I hadn't spoken to him, I didn't acknowledge him...I was weak and no better than anyone else walking past as though he didn't exist!

The day went on and the afternoon session of one of the best PDs (professional development) I have attended in a long while began to come to an end, I took my time exiting the building, my stomach doing somersaults, my heart beating strongly as yet again I walked past..but this time all that was on the seat were belongings. No invisible man. I need not feel guilty for partaking in no communication...no eye contact! (I feel so terrible even thinking let alone writing that!)

But I did wonder where he was?

Did he go across the road to get food? To use the toilet? What a naive, educated idiot I was! For there he was...peeing on a tree around the corner. Toilet? Buying food? I was a moron for even thinking such things and felt like an indulged child who didn't truly understand the REAL world!

I crossed the road and entered the McDonald's across the road and ordered a meal that I had no intention of eating. I grabbed serviettes and filled the bag with them.

My heart and stomach beat and swirl as a thousand thoughts went through my mind! What would happen? Would he get mad? Would he be able to eat it? (allergies/halal etc) it wasn't the healthiest food I could have gotten, would he judge me? Then the answering thoughts slapped those ones around the head..he is homeless...I don't think he will be fussy! What would I say to him? What would I do?

Click click click...The lights changed and the little green man told me it was time to move forward. As I walked across the road, food and drink in hand I looked at the invisible man and his deep brown eyes looked right back into mine.

He was old. He was frail. As I approached, his mouth opened revealing gaps of gum free of teeth. He sat up straight as I held out the food. I smiled, he nodded his head and uttered in broken English, "thankyou, thankyou very much". I nodded, smiled and told him its ok, it's ok, your welcome.

And I walked away.

I should have said more. Told him I'm sorry. I'm very sorry I have a home and family and fresh meal to go home to. Sorry that I have long hot showers and drive a big arsed car. I'm sorry I have a job and can buy things. I'm sorry that this metal bench seat is your home. I'm sorry all I needed to do was wait until Wednesday to have more than a dollar. I'm sorry that your Wednesday may never come.

But instead I said, "for you" and "it's ok" and walked away feeling a little lighter of heart for simply doing something...even if it was nothing of consequence at all.

As I boarded the train surrounded by suits and uniforms and casual clothes of all variety, all moving with life and purpose I thought of the man and wondered if his belly ever felt full? if he ever felt safe? If someone shows him care each day? If he cares if they do?

Today I went into the city to learn how to empower girls to be confident and have positive friendships. I left the city having learnt that and a lesson about myself. Maybe what i did wasn't so big in the scheme of things...but I've learnt that my empathy for societal issues has crossed over from simply thinking I care and feeling anger at the injustices to actually taking action to prove it.

As the suburbs zoomed past the train window on the way home, I vowed to myself that this first action would not be a one off. But instead would set a precedent for the future. His gratitude was one of the best presents I've received in a long time...and selfishly I suspect I walked away from our interaction with more gained than he.

My inner tradie....

He would look on with condescending amusement as I would use a screw driver or hammer in a nail. My nerves so shot from the concentrated scrutiny that my palms would begin to sweat, the tool slipping in my fingertips, bending the nail or missing altogether as the hammer connects with my fingers and I curse in frustration and agony as he laughs and tells me to let him do it.

Dejectedly I would sigh and down tools, step back and eventually leave the room altogether. This was the pattern for so long that I gave up. Asking him to do it was less painful than the ordeal of trying myself..not because I believed that I couldn't do it..but because he believed I couldn't, and made that very clear.

I took the backseat, the feminine position he expected me to sit in but it never fit quite right, it was not me. Rather than take it on completely I took upon the role of playing the damsel in distress while dying of frustration inside and fighting the urge to just grab the damn tool myself and do it! Longing for the feeling of accomplishment when it was complete, to see individual pieces of wood become something together...to know it was of my doing..I created it..the pride.

It wasn't to be, so instead I would craft and Sew (acceptable female creating) and long for the freedom to do it all.

When we were moving everything in and I finally rediscovered the bunk bed screws I had misplaced we realized that I did not have the right sized Allen-key to put them together. My Uncle and Brother and I stood there looking at those pieces of steel which needed to fit together for my slumber weary boys and then my brother said, "Go to Bunnings and buy an Allen-Key Sis!". A thrill of excitement shot through me at the thought of entering the tool section to buy my own tools! Car keys were located and I was out of there in a flash!

Ten minutes later I stood before the wall of screw drivers and wrenches and Allen-Keys admiring their silver, gleaming beauty. I took some off the shelf before returning them due to being too heavy or too 'not quite right'. I finally chose one and then made my way to the counter. The lady suggested a different set, right there at the register as an alternative..it was on sale for $4 and had every different size attachment for screwdrivers I could possibly need! I also picked up a small hammer at the same time.

I walked back into my house that day and alternated between watching the men use my new tools and using them myself. The bunks were finished and my boys were back in their own beds again.

Since that first day I have used my tools every single day! I have put together 8 different pieces of furniture with their assistance..and fixed an old one.





Each and every time I hold them in my hands I feel incredibly free, strong, powerful and...at home!

They may just be a screwdriver set or a hammer...but they represent the enormous change in my life, for when I hold them, when I use them and create or fix with them....I'm being me, I'm living free.

Next purchase.....a drill! ;)

Living....

A friend dropped around to fix my washing machine on Sunday night and he asked how long I'd been in the house and suddenly I stood shocked as it dawned on me that it had already been a WHOLE WEEK! One whole week in our new house.

You'll need to forgive my absence as every night I've been falling into bed exhausted. I was left the job of sorting, packing and cleaning everything! The first six days we were barely at our new house as I dragged the children to the old house to clean and continue moving things. But finally...after some hiccups, the house settled last Thursday! It is now somebody else's and the relief I felt when I got that call was phenomenal!

What can I say about my move experience? It was almost enjoyable. My uncle and brother and a family friend helped move everything and they were so wonderful. It wasn't stressful. Previous moves I have done while married have been dreadful, stressful events where at some point I'm berated and at no point do I have a say. This time though my voice was important and we all worked together. I was calm and the whole thing went really well!

From the first night here this place has felt like home. Despite the box city we're navigating our way through each day we are so happy here. There are ups and downs still, but essentially we are working together more and life feels good here.

Today I put together the Ikea furniture I bought. It took a few hours but I did it and then we unpacked 10 boxes into it. It is situated in the kids (living room) space and looks incredible. I will share when it's complete.

I have had down moments and this move near on destroyed me...but I survived. And for the first time in a very long time..I can look at all I'm achieving each day and feel pride and feel as though I am doing more than merely surviving...it feels like I'm living...and that's a damn fine position to be in :)

xoxo
JAAK