My own 2012 Disaster Epic. Not quite the end of the world though....

Author’s note: I wrote this originally shortly after the 21st, but decided against posting it around the date due to the masses of hype. In short I wanted to give the ‘the end of the world’ and the ‘I told you so’ threads a chance to quiet, before adding my own 2012 disaster story.

So as I write this it’s early morning. The house is still relatively quiet, and I have a few moments to contemplate the end of the world. That was yesterday of course, a little earlier than much of the planet, but with barely a burp it passed it would seem, and of course the world goes on regardless.

But the lead up to this monumental event had me wishing at a few points we could see the end of times, as the week leading up to the 21st was anything but ordinary, at least as far as I was concerned.

To ride out this interesting week though, I must go back intially about 6 months. After making the leap and moving interstate earlier this year, I had had little to no contact with my ex, the mother of my youngest daughter. Figuring abandonment, I left and started a new life for all of us. Around 6 months after this event, I get word from my ex that she suddenly and inexplicably wants contact with her daughter. So much so it would seem the next step was lawyers and family law court. Not wishing to get dragged into a second legal quagmire (a rant for another time), I established contact and we eventually agreed upon two weeks during the mid-semester school holidays, and three weeks at the end of the year. Plane fares would be halved evenly, and she would be able to have contact again.

With the Christmas school holidays looming, we all sat down as a family and decided to all go at once back to our home state. There we could spend time with both family and friends, and allow my housemate’s mother to see her grandson for only the second time since his birth back in September.

It was around then little things began to go wrong. About three weeks before we were set to go, the little guy gets sick. Nothing major, but the doctor advises no flying. OK, I put this one under my belt, and it looked like mother and daughter were staying put. So that left myself and my two girls. About three days later however, I’d noticed a significant change in my eldest daughter. She was generally moping around, on edge and in generally “a mood.” Finally after a day, I pulled her aside and asked what was wrong. Turns out she had no desire to return, and wanted to stay home with my housemate and be closer to her friends.

As much as I really wanted her to come back with us, mainly just to see her grandparents, I can understand. Where we came from, she never really fit in, was unpopular and was bullied a lot by the local kids. Since our move, she has gained a lot of confidence, has gained a lot of popularity and good friends and has seemed to lose that social awkwardness she had before our move. At almost twelve, the desire to spend time with friends obviously outweighs the need to see family. Of course I want what’s best for her, so after mulling it over, and a discussion with my housemate, she agreed to look after her. My daughter gets to stay behind with her friends, and of course dad is number one in her eyes.

So now it’s down to me and my youngest. Facing the prospect of being back in my home state alone for three weeks, I contacted an old friend and scored some holiday work at his pub. Nothing big, just drinks and bar work, some easy cash for the few weeks rather than sitting around bored, waiting for the world to end.
So a few weeks ago, off we jet. I can say I’ve seen the inside of Sydney airport so much this year, it really gets tiresome. But spending an hour waiting for transfers has become a way for us, and finally, after two separate plane trips, we arrive in our southern destination.

It’s freezing. Having gotten used to tropical weather, the first day was about 15 degrees C and it was pouring with rain. Despite this, we visit friends and family, and after two days drop off my daughter with my ex. I catch up with my friend, and prepare for the holiday season of working behind a bar.

This where things started to go really wrong. The first night at the bar, a drunken jackass decides to take out his frustration on another patron. Now I’m not exactly a stringbean of a fellow, but attempted to step in and separate them. The net result of my bravery? A bar glass smashed into my temple. A night in hospital and seven stitches later, I’m now really considering the wisdom of this trip.

So as a result of this, I have to spend the first week on the mend rather than working. Stuck at my parent’s home for a few days, and unable to go anywhere, I spend most of time catching up on some writing, and regularly use Skype to chat to my eldest daughter some 2000kms away.

A few days in, one evening my daughter is not there. Call me crazy, but when my kids go quiet, I usually double check what they are up to. I ring home, and get my housemate. My daughter doesn’t want to speak to me this night. After a bit of digging, I finally get her online, and discover why.

Her hair is cut. Short. VERY short. Now I know she’s almost 12, and her hair is her business, but it took a long time to grow, and now she was sitting here on the other end of the computer screen looking like Friar Tuck. Her reasoning? My housemate is actually Bi/Lesbian, and keeps her hair ‘boyish’ as is her style. My daughter, with the cat away, wanted to emulate her, and thought I would be ok with it by the time I got home and had time to calm.

So, after the first week, the doc says all is good, only a concussion and some “lacerations” (honestly I looked like a beaten prize fighter after that), I returned to the job, meaning to fill out the last two weeks, collect my daughter shortly after New Years, and head home.

So we get to the following Tuesday, and lo and behold, a phone call from my ex. My daughter wants to go back to dad and go home, barely a week into her visit. Turns out, my ex must have realised just how high maintennance her daughter actually is, and with two new ones under her belt, suddenly found the going a little tough. Thus, like always, she quits. Wednesday morning, I pick my daughter up, pretty much fuming at this point as to how badly this endeavour has gone. In a fit of frustration, I call the airline and have the flights moved up a week. Basically, I’m ready to put this town and it’s bad luck at my back. The finalt insult? I can’t reschedule the flight, and have to book two new flights home. A week before the busiest time of the year? Oh yeah, you can bet they weren’t cheap. Thankfully, I can use the flights I’d already booked at a later date within 12 months, so not a total write off.
(cont below)

So my flight home? 1130am on the 21st of December. As we fly away from all this bad luck, I wonder to myself if a meteorite or tsunami or even an earthquake hits, will we be safe in the air?

Later that afternoon, I saw the welcome and familiar sight of the line of palm trees that make up the front of my property. We are home once again. I can honestly say at this point, I started to realise just how badly I didn’t want to take this trip. Granted, seeing my friends and my folks again was great, but the reality is I wonder if all this bad luck was the result of a subconcious unwillingness to go back. Like my eldest daughter, I never fit well in that town, and I can honestly say life has improved tenfold since we all made the move.

That night, we all crashed out in the lounge on mattresses due to the heat, but again I wonder if everyone was a little relieved to be a family unit once again, albeit a bit of a disfunctional one, and just wanted that closeness. The dog certainly was my shadow for at least 24 hours after the return.

Interestingly, it has been a couple of days since I returned. The Saturday after the 21st, for some reason I was up extra early, and sat outside, watching as the sun came up, a few showers passed and the usual screeches of the birds turned into the usual morning concert. I have contemplated the trip, the timing and the events leading up to it, and it would seem we’ve had all the elements of the end of the world in the leadup, at least from a personal view. We’ve had sickness, people being left behind, unseasonal weather, calamity and disaster, riots and injuries, all the best laid plans lain to waste, culminating on the actual end of the world day, and pretty close to the time when I could finally leave it all behind and go back where I was meant to go.

And thus goes the epiphany along with the disasters. Each morning since the supposed end of the world date has come to pass, I have sat outside my house, realising this move was the best thing I have ever done. For both myself and my family. In short, I am home.

Sure it took a really bad set of events to realise that, but when you come home and you know you’re home, I guess you can say you’ve transcended one part of your life, and really moved onto another.

reply to post by 74Templar


Sometimes it takes bad things to happen before anyone can appreciate the good. What a great story! Having 2 sons I can somewhat sympathise, though the idea of daughters scares me worse than a zombie apocalypse!

Just consider yourself wiser for the experience.

Hair grows back, trust me. You're talking to a dad who came home one day to a son who had a Mohawk!

reply to post by beezzer


I actually wrote this the morning after the 21st, at like 5am, just as the sun was coming up. It did take a lot of contemplation, but I'm definetely looking forward to no more plane trips next year.

And please don't say that. Everyone I've ever known says girls are 10x the work of boys. God forbid her if she ever came home with something like a mohawk, but she is just a short hop away from the teenage years, so I'm expecting piercings, pink/purple hair, etc in the next few years.

Originally posted by 74Templar
reply to post by beezzer

 

I actually wrote this the morning after the 21st, at like 5am, just as the sun was coming up. It did take a lot of contemplation, but I'm definetely looking forward to no more plane trips next year.

And please don't say that.

Everyone I've ever known says girls are 10x the work of boys. God forbid her if she ever came home with something like a mohawk, but she is just a short hop away from the teenage years, so I'm expecting piercings, pink/purple hair, etc in the next few years.

When my oldest turned 16, he had so many piercings and plugs that he whistled whenever it was windy.