I know you’re just dying for me to say we lived in a tin hut up a mountain.
That would have been very cool, but untrue.
Picture a dusty dormitory of bunkbeds, ghosts hiding in every corner, a stream to play/fall in, surrounded by mountains begging to be explored.
Definitely a nightmare for the bus driver, who couldn’t drive the whole way down the track.
And my idea of heaven. Home away from home. Not that we lived in a farmhouse, but I was brought up on mud pies, poprivets and bailing twine.
I took my own walking boots instead of having to wear some from the pool of borrowed gear, so, y’know, that gave me a boost of confidence and I felt like a pro.
At a time in life when I didn’t feel very confident about very much at all.
It didn’t phase me one bit that for the whole trip, it was absolutely bloody freezing.
A lot of my friends complained of the cold and the fact that there was no central heating.
And that right there was the moment.
I didn’t really know what they meant by that.
At our house, every day when we came home from school, mum would ‘set the fire’ and then light it. Sometimes a helping hand with some old oil from the garage.
And of course the Rayburn stove was going for most of the year, too. That wasn’t so unusal for where I lived, in a rural community.
So, I just assumed everyone else was the same as us.
Until you do know. And then it’s like.. whaat? why didn’t I know this before?!
I hear those words fairly regularly, from the women I help. Not because of childhood memories. Because of midlife and menopause.
You don’t know, what you don’t know.
In my experience, it’s definitely worth assuming that there’s always something more to learn, to understand.
Some of the most dangerous (as in, holding you back) words sound like “I already know that”.
Curiosity on the other hand, that can really take you somewhere.
If you’re curious, and want to find out more, get in touch with the link below. I’d love to hear from you.