Timing, friendship and love.

Beautiful Bay of Islands: Huge mussels off the Black Rocks!

Monday, March 30th, 2020: Kia ora from Aotearoa. We have been self-isolating, and boy, we're lucky. For a start, my beloved R suggested that instead of going to Bali or Samoa for a special summer holiday in March, we have a local experience. 

'Locals only' takes on a whole new meaning now. I haven't been out of Aotearoa for ten years, so I was longing for something different. Well it turns out that different was what we got - three days on a beautiful bohemian sailing boat in the Bay of Islands. As we swam and snorkeled in the sparkling waters and admired the parrot fish around the Black Rocks, we were blissfully unaware of how quickly things were about to change. One week ago we were sailing back into Opua, the Bay of Islands Marina, and the texts from my mum were flowing in like a steady tide. "Stay up there!" she urged. 

As much as we liked the crew, I doubt that self isolation on a 70 foot sailing boat with five people would be manageable for a month! 

The boat is owned and run by Ari and her husband Ben, and they often have others on board who wish to be part of the sailing crew. R's part time flatmate, Simon, is a seasoned Sailor man with a languid gait and a way with plants. It was through him that we met Ari. She is a petite, tanned and wiry woman with the air of the rock star about her. A rock star mermaid. She and her handsome husband would get up and do yoga for ages each morning before jumping into the sea. I would drink coffee and do a few half-hearted down ward dogs before plunging into the cold depths in all my naked glory. Rocked to sleep by the sea, safe in the arms of the man I love, it was the best holiday I've ever had. 

We were incredibly fortunate to get back from the holiday on the Monday. We had time to get organised and to get plenty of things from my flat so that R and I could isolate at his place just North of Auckland. Simon the Sailor forgot his whole bag, so he had to hot tail it back to the boat. He caught a bus and purchased a Darth Vader mask for the journey.  It was just as well - the Swiss woman who was originally going to arrive couldn't make it. Three on a boat is probably better in terms of safety.

We're using up data by hot-spotting from our phones, and R has to continue working so I am left to my own devices each day. I'm lucky as his place is in a very beautiful location and I can easily go for a walk in nature. As the only child of my mother (my father is a different story), I grew up knowing how to amuse myself. All I ever really needed was pens, paper, books, trees and dress ups. I would sit still and allow bugs to crawl up my arms. That's a memory I have of when I was four years old and we lived in the Caravan Park in Whangarei. Mum was married to Kerry, my adoptive father. I remember those black shiny bugs, this feeling of great love I had for them, and mum saying "don't play in the wood pile, it's not safe". To this day, I feel a pang of great affection for that kind of bug with it's clinging legs and tendency to fall over and struggle to get back up.

I always longed for friendship and connection with other children, but I didn't quite understand them. When other children complained of boredom - and not the boredom of a maths class - I found it quite incomprehensible. I treasured my weekend mornings alone in bed to write my stories and draw endless bizarre cartoons. I loved that precious hour alone after school to dance to Joan Jett or Bonnie Tyler, and climbing trees was amazing no matter who you were with.

I've heard that boredom might be a problem for people who are self-isolating. If I didn't have books, paper, internet connection, and a lovely place to walk, I think that might be a problem for me too. Consider Vipassana Meditation. That's ten days of self isolating alongside others without speaking or having any form of entertainment - including masturbation. Once you've done that, the level of self isolating I'm currently experiencing is luxurious. I realise that won't be the case for many people. Large families forced into cramped conditions must be finding this really difficult, and I feel helpless when I consider those trapped with someone abusive.

I had two job interviews lined up just as the lock down was being wound into place. One was for a literacy tutoring role at Mt Eden Prison and the other as a nanny. I already have work lined up for the end of April with another literacy provider, but not sure how that will work if we are still in lock down. Last night R and I sat on the balcony/deck which overlooks trees and down into the valley of Whangateau. Lightning flashed intermittently and silently, and the stars were as bright and clean as can be imagined. I have been dreaming of animals all week. Watching the first episode of the 'Tiger King' on Netflix didn't help. We found that we weren't really enjoying it, seeing a man whose ego overtook his love of animals. I know we're supposed to laugh at him with his terrible mullet and his hatred of the equally annoying animal rights woman. But it doesn't feel amusing. It feels a bit sad. 

This week I was contacted (via FB) by someone who used to be my best friend. This is a time when people might think of those they haven't seen for years and wonder if they're okay. She didn't tell me why she ceased contact with me in the first place other than "you pissed me off all the time". Eek, it wouldn't be the first time that this has happened!

So here's a tip to anyone who is feeling misunderstood, or abandoned by a friend or family member: not everyone will like you and that's okay. If you fucked their boyfriend or killed their dog, then sure, of course people will run away from you, you bastarding bitch hog. If all you've done is be annoying without meaning to ... well ... talk about pooh bum land. 

Someone who has been a friend for years might end up not liking you. This can be a person who pours sweet words all over you, butters you with compliments and seems to love the shit out of you, but they resent you. You didn't help with dishes and your heart is always broken. Fuck you. 

It's still okay. It hurts like waking up from a nightmare and then realising the nightmare is real, but it won't kill you. You might just need to stick with the wood pile and the bugs for a little while! When you come out from that wood pile, when the love of bugs, trees and books has revived your soul, you look around and see that your friends are few, but that they are honest and kind. 

In the years since this person ceased contact, I have lost a friend to suicide, worked in mental health, gained a qualification in yoga teaching and another in literacy education. I have also asked one of the few close friends I have left  "what is it that annoys people?". 

She said when she first met me I was SO INTENSE and that she was a little bit afraid of me. I adore this friend - she has the guts to tell me exactly what she really thinks. I remember in the first year of our friendship she would sometimes stop me and say

"Candice, the way you're talking right now is scaring me" and I'd stop mid-rant and say "really?". Really. She says that since knowing me she has become braver and more outspoken, and she thinks I've become softer and more approachable. In a week it will be one year since R and I committed to the kind of relationship I have always wanted. He thinks that my direct nature is probably a problem for a lot of people. Who knows? If someone won't tell you and they make up all sorts of shit in their heads, it's not really your issue. If they have the courage and do love you, they'll tell you what's bothering them. Ask them and then don't get shitty when they tell you. If it's fair, you'll know. If they're using you as a dart board, then you'll also figure it out.  

During this time of self-isolation, we have time to consider what truly matters. For me, it's love. It will always be love.