I asked the question confidently, my tone disguising the butterflies already gathering in my stomach.
“Why don’t I go?” I said, letting my editor know I was ready for my first on-the-ground assignment.
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It was a quaint little place, one room in the front of a house, lined with old shelves in chipping paint, books squeezed in wherever there was space. In the corner stood a tiny wooden table with a few flowers in a small vase, sitting atop a stack of novels and old Turkish newspapers.
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I walked for an hour with no destination in mind. I stood atop the grassy dam that holds the sea back from flooding the small town of Den Helder, Holland. I was nearing the end of a two-month solo backpacking trip around Europe in 2010. I decided to go as far north as I could on the train and the train brought me to Den Helder.
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When I think about my life and the things that are most important I automatically want to begin with my family, especially my sisters and brothers. I am the oldest of four (now five) children and I feel that my place as the eldest child has had a great impact on my personality, causing me to be mature and well organized from a young age. Additionally, I attribute much of my maternal characteristics to the fact that I helped my mother with my siblings as a child. My mom’s reliance upon me for help made me feel older than I was, and important. I liked feeling needed and I liked knowing that she could depend on me. This responsibility for my siblings made me feel good about myself, and I think that much of my personality and self-worth is wrapped up in my status as the oldest child. However, this responsibility to care for my siblings was beyond my years and had negative effects on me as an adult, namely anger, anxiety and guilt. From an early age I rejected the Victorian model of marriage and gender dynamics that was presented to me.
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