The Legend of Angry Brooke

Story time. If you'd met teenage Brooke, you'd have met a very different person. I mean, all the nerdness was there, but there was a lot of other stuff too. Stuff which I'm glad I don't really have any more. Most of the time.

There's not really a greater purpose to this post. It's more or less just telling you about the years I spent as a Super Saiyan and how I try not to be like that now.

The Beginning: Granny Weatherwax and Nynaeve

I've always been a fairly rambunctious person. My darling mother mused out loud last year about how I 'used to be such a confident kid', before asking what happened, because that's not who I am now. (Which is a whole other topic, but we'll leave that for later.) But yes. You put me in my field, and I'll be a happy camper.

When I transitioned from homeschooled year 6 to mainstream school in year 7, there were a lot of things to work out. How to do schoolwork in a group environment. How to deal with the incredibly slow pace everything happened at. How to mesh with other people who understood the rules of social interaction better than I. And since I always was super serious, how to deal with the teasing. I was a tall poppy in my early years of high school, and didn't understand the 'teasing as standard action' thing. I had a fairly short fuse too. So, it didn't take much to get me riled up or upset. That and my general naivety were some pretty good reasons why I got bullied.

So, a short fuse, and a lot of fear, because there was all this stuff I didn't understand.

About 2005, I found two very interesting outlooks from different fictional characters. Since books were how I learned anything, I found the concept of anger interesting when it was presented in The Wee Free Men, by Terry Pratchett.

In it, the wise and cantankerous Granny Weatherwax teaches Tiffany Aching, the protagonist, how to use anger to combat threats. When something threatens you, you can get scared, or you can get angry. If you get angry, you're more likely to do something about the threat. At least, that was the logic, as I'd perceived it.

The other outlook I'd encountered was that of Nynaeve from the Wheel of Time series, by Robert Jordan. Nynaeve is a mage, capable of mighty things. Only issue is, the only way she can use her power right at the beginning is if she gets mad. She's kind of like the hulk, but with waaaay more irritated braid tugging.

I learned anger as a way of coping with and responding to issues, especially when, in the same year, I learned that my friend group had invited me into their circle so they could 'adopt a nerd'.

The Heyday: Little Dog Syndrome

During my middle and senior high school years, I established myself as she of the short stature and short temper. I hung out with a bunch of guys in the year above, and since I was head and shoulders shorter than everyone else, it just meant that I made a lot of noise in order to be heard.

It was my niche, my slot, and I dug it. If you irritated me (which wasn't hard), it'd be easy for me to yell at you. I talked a lot of smack. I'd also kicked people who insulted me and slapped someone who'd called me just about the worst thing you could call someone. In retrospect, I was scared of being forgotten, of having people not take me seriously. I never wanted to be the butt of the joke, for people to laugh at me for being a maladjusted, naive little girl again. I just hid that fear under aggression.

In what was one of my more questionable moves, I remember challenging the biggest guy in my year to a sparring match, so certain I could win because I 'knew how to handle myself', despite the fact that this fellow was about 6ft and weighed twice what I did. My ambition and aggression went for it. Fortunately, this guy was wiser and more chill than I, and what would have been the smackdown of the year never came to fruition. Honestly, even looking back at that one, I'm not sure what my goal was. Some kind of 'beat the largest one, become the alpha' logic. 17 year old Brooke wasn't incredibly sensible.

The Decline: 2010

Getting out of school was a good thing. I went from the school environment to a TAFE course that was 100% women. Sure, there was still drama, but it was different. I couldn't solve my issues by yelling at them. I still solidly enjoyed sparring with a few close friends - these were titled 'poke fights' and were exactly what they sounded like. They were less frequent, since all of us were getting older and we were less on an even playing field. Plus, the one I versed the most had the same limb-to-body ratio of a daddy long legs. Or thereabouts.

But I'd started looking back on how I'd tried to use my anger to be treated like an equal during high school, and had realised that it wasn't that effective. The guy I'd challenged to a match? We never spoke. To this day, I've got no idea how he's doing, and that's either because we weren't all that close as buds by the end, or because I've felt too embarrassed and awkward about hunting him down on Facebook since. It's probably a little column A, a little column B.

2010 came to an end, and while I could still be counted on to hulk out in a pinch, I'd mellowed out significantly from what I was.

At Present: The Girl With Something To Prove

If you know me know, you'd probably know that I'm still fairly driven. I've got a few friends who enjoy antagonising me as well as any sibling. I've at least managed to learn how to take some of it with a pinch of salt.

I mean, I still have a lot to prove, but that's because I set insanely high expectations for myself (something which I am - with help - currently taking steps to disassemble, because it's about as healthy and sustainable as throwing a brick into a washing machine.) At least now, I don't flare up like touch paper. Comparatively.

The only issue I have with this now, is that it feels like in dissipating my anger, I've lost something. Angry Brooke didn't take crap from anyone, and wouldn't let herself be walked over. She had the resolve to get things done, and took risks that needed to be taken.

In disassembling that, it feels like when things arise, I just let them happen. I avoid conflict instead of seeking it out or headbutting it into submission. I miss that, to a degree. Angry Brooke got stuff done. 

At least, that's what it felt like. 

Angry Brooke was respected. 

Except, I don't think she really was. You know a kid with a short fuse in your class as a teen, you're going to find it funny to throw things and keep your distance. You stay away from her.

Thing is, in looking back on Angry Brooke, she was a person I wouldn't want to be friends with either. In the middle of my anger, I did things I wish I hadn't. (See: Challenging my 6ft classmate to a wrestling match and losing his friendship.)

I Also Said A Lot Of Stupid Things. (Which, when you capitalise all the words, sounds like a song by Fall Out Boy.)

So, hulking out meant that I got things done, but in the process, I messed a lot of things up. Because I wanted to stop burning bridges and having all the stupidity coming out of my mouth, I stopped. Or at least, I've mostly stopped.

There are times when I still feel the fire, still feel the urge to raise my voice properly - let the world be wreathed in flames and fear of the legendary Super Saiyan Brooke. But, those are the times I usually cope by sitting somewhere and listening to aggressive music really loudly. It's hard for me to make friends. I don't want to lose any more of them. Plus, I don't think that wanton fury is incredibly God-honouring. And I want to be doing that better. Honouring God with my whole life, that is. I can't lose control over something so small. So I won't.

Perhaps there will be a time and a place for this fire sometime in the future, when I've learned to refine it down to the white-hot flame of righteous fury. That way, the drive and the expression could work in harmony to achieve the goal, rather than skewing each other into a sixteen year old girl's aggression.

I want to get stuff done. I just...have to work out when is the time to fight to the last and when is the time to kneel. (That's another blog post in the waiting, really. Another conundrum that is a question I don't have the answer to - I just think it's a good argument to work out. Anyway. Spoilers.)

That's about it for this post. I can't think of a conclusion. I should be blogging more regularly soon. We'll see how that goes.

Brooke out.

The last two years: In retrospect

Hi. You could be just reading my blog for the first time, or you could have read all of my posts, or you could have seen that I posted a new entry on my Facebook and followed it through because sometimes words come out of my mouth and sometimes they are interesting.

This is a little bit of a reflection on the last two years, those being 2014, and 2015. If you've been reading my posts for a while, you'll probably notice that that's about when the regularity of writing on Gone Aerial started going out the window, and there's a few reasons why.

I figured it was time to write something again. I've always had more to say, but when the jobs you're working have you either physically or mentally exhausted at the end of the day, there's not a lot left for writing. Still.

Here's a brief rundown of the last two years.

I finished Uni at the end of 2013, and my hopeless optimism thought that finding a job straight after WAVE of 2014 would be easy. I wanted to work after I finished uni, because I knew I didn't have a lot of life experience and I probably needed it. When I hit 22 in 2013, I realised that I was the same age as Mum when she'd gotten married, and it was probably time to start thinking of myself and acting like an adult.

What followed was a steep learning curve. I threw resumes at anything that moved. I picked up work in a local Chinese restaurant, but it wasn't enough hours or income to support myself, so I started falling behind on rent, and eating my way through the strange cans of food my Pop had given me a few years before, because all I could afford to buy was milk and apples and mi goreng. I'd fill up my car, not knowing if I'd be able to buy more fuel when I ran out.

This went on for a bit more than a month, before all the forms I'd submitted to request a bit of welfare subsidence kicked in. I was also helped out by my parents and some folks from church. Even then, there wasn't much of a rest. I'd spend a few nights a week working at the restaurant and the rest of the week, I pretty much lived at the Hub - the warehouse in Broadmeadow that doubles as my church's office/headquarters/place for things that aren't Sunday meetings. There, I continued applying for jobs.

I can't remember how many I applied for. There was a lot, and sometimes I'd get a rejection letter, but most of the time I'd never hear back. At this stage, I was pretty grateful for Centrelink, even if there were a lot of forms to fill out. I was able to buy food. I could pay rent. When the registration of my car came around, I was able to do that myself - something that really counted when you consider that I was trying to be a responsible adult.

About halfway through the year, I picked up some contracted writing work, and this eventually turned into my second job - writing blog posts for a marketing firm. Once this piece of information comes into play, you can kind of see why I didn't do a lot of writing of my own material - it's a little hard to write all day and then be motivated to come home and write some more.

So that was 2014. There were some hard bits, and some good bits, and some other pretty important lessons learned, but I'll get to those in a minute.

2015 has also been a pretty turbulent year, but for different reasons.

Because I had had a lot of spare time in the year prior, I'd started a few different types of ministry. I had time, so why not? Problem was, I was nearly working full time hours on top of part time hours spent in ministry.

I got sick, and stayed physically sick, for about three months. It was debilitating on my body and my mind, and I burned out. Recovery took longer, and I have to check in even now and still consider if I'm back to fully operational.

Burning out was problematic for more than just that reason though - it opened up a whole new can of worms, one which was marked 'mental health'. Although I don't know if there's anything in particular that has become my problem, I can testify that the inside of my head has not been a pleasant place to be at times during this year.

But, there were still really good things, and really challenging things, and things to learn from.

At the moment, my hours have changed, for both places, for a variety of reasons. Things are definitely going to change next year, not in the least because I'm planning on moving out of my house. Living alone is fine if you are mentally stable. Which I am not. So, some housemates are in order. I'm a little anxious about how things will go, not in the least because I've lived by myself for the last two years, so my house skills have gotten a little lax. But. Housemates. That's important. Need stability.

Where does this lead to? There is indeed a purpose for this blog post - not just telling you how my last two years have been. There's been a few hard-learned, but important-learned lessons I've picked up along the way, and thought they were worth sharing. Hence, post. But like, I don't want it to be like the posts I write for work, so it's not a numerically listed thing. But, uh.

The Rest Of The World Cares Less About You Than Your Lecturers And Teachers

I'm talking secular, working world. My church body has been highly valued and I'm so very thankful to them for looking after me. But the others?

When you're in school, your teachers have some degree of care about you. In uni, if you build a good rapport with your lecturers and tutors, they'll generally want you to pass a subject.

The same isn't true of the working world. The manager you just talked to doesn't know squat about you, and doesn't have a reason to care about what you can do unless you give them a reason.

It's Easy To Feel Entitled

And why shouldn't we? If you're a first world kid, growing up in a first world, cushy life, it's easy to feel like you're owed a job that you like. Whether or not you can find one of those jobs is another matter. I work in the service industry and you will never find another job where the people you meet will feel like making your life miserable is well within their rights and duties as a customer. It's even easy to try and use my sense of entitlement to try and rise above all of that. "I've got two tertiary qualifications, therefore I have the right to a better job," kind of thing. It...it just doesn't work like that.

Some Things Are Just Hard Work

In the last few weeks of my uni study, my church sat the students who were graduating down over dinner and we talked about what life would be like as a worker - the things we'd need to be aware of, and the ways we'd be challenged. One of the most helpful things I was told was "The first two years will just be hard work". They were right. No shortcuts. No cheat codes. Just a lot of honey chicken and oil burns.

Nobody Else Has It Together Either

I'm now a worker. I still have nights where I don't have enough energy to do anything. Weekends are a joke. But, I was raised with this crazy impossible standard where the things are supposed to be clean and I'm supposed to have it all together. After all, I'm the oldest, and I'm supposed to set and example and not be a bitter disappointment and blah blah blah. No. Nobody else my age seems to have it together. Which is a bit of a relief, because it's honest and it's real and it makes me able to admit my fears and weaknesses to other people, and ask for their help, because there's a lot of things I cannot do by myself.

Take One Day At A Time

Rolling with it is something I've had to get used to. It's not my favourite, but it's helped me see beyond the insurmountable hill of responsibility and just get down to putting one foot in front of another to keep going. If I can keep moving forward, then things have the opportunity to get better.

Celebrate The Small Things

You found your keys? Throw both arms in the air and yell in adulation. You survived another shift? Give yourself a pat on the back. There's still a lot of things I can't do. So when something goes right for a change, no matter how small, I remember that it's a good thing, and that we should celebrate victories, no matter how small.

Set Some Boundaries

This is important.

Remember To Rest

So is this. Like I said earlier, secular world isn't obligated to care for your shocking day prior. They only want to know that you can work. I have one night a week where I am home, and that's because I vigilantly protect it as The Evening I Am Home To Rest. If you're a people-pleaser, it's easy to keep saying yes to things until you collapse. I've done that once, and I don't ever want to do it again. So, make sure that your lines in the sand on what you can do, and what you can't do, are drawn, and maintain them, not because you are selfish, but because you need to keep functioning.

Remember The Gospel

As a Christian, the gospel is what keeps me going. Knowing and remembering and dwelling on it is what means I can come back for another round of work even though I was in tears over work the night before.

It's easy to gloss over it - be like, 'yeah, nah, I know this. I need some deeper theological truth to look at'.

No. Noob.

The gospel is where we start and end. Theology only serves to enhance our understanding of the gospel - of knowing and understanding that here is God, the creator of the universe, who would send his Son Jesus to bear my sins and failures to bring me back into a right relationship with him and make me into something better.

Know Your Value

Here's the kicker. I end up with this problem where I feel like my value is attached to what I can do. Or what I am. Problem is, when you take away my capacity for doing things, or make me feel like I can't do anything, the perceived value is going to go down the gurgler pretty quick.

But, here's the thing, and it fits into the gospel. Nothing I can do can attribute to my own value. (Therefore, I can end up feeling like I have no value).

But, the Creator God trades his Son, who has Infinite Value, for my life.

And here's the thing about this trade, about this purchase.

You don't pay for things you don't want. And you don't pay more for something you think has less value.

So even though intrinsically, I have no value, my life - my future, and my eternity - have been purchased with the most expensive thing there is.

Therefore, I am valued at Infinite, by the King of the Universe.

And he's the biggest power there is. There's not another power, bigger, who can say otherwise, or usurp that authority or purchase. This is what happens when you start dealing in absolutes - either things are or they are not.

I still have problems with remembering that I have value on a regular basis. When you're taught that everything else is more important than you, this can be a hard thing to shake. Which is why I keep coming back to the gospel, and why I have to keep remembering that I have value because of the gospel.

So yeah. that's where I'm at. Hopefully next year will be easier, (although I have my doubts). I'll just have a little more experience, and a better understanding of the grace that is sufficient for keeping me going.

I hope your new years are bright, and full of promise.

Happy New Year, guys.

Brooke Out.