When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability... To be alive is to be vulnerable.

-Madeleine L'Engle-

In, what seems an age ago, powerpuffgirl was young and foolish enough to believe that being, oh, 25 was ancient, and far too old for one to still be alive, and 30 was pretty much the far end of the hill. Having now passed ancient (with some years since), she's wondering how it was that she got here - head intact, even more impossibly idealistic, and a lot less disillusioned, despite living and working in an environment that, at first glance, is diametrically at odds with a powerpuff type.

She gave up trying to save the world all by herself. All those ranting at monsters and swatting at things that go bump in the night, whilst worrying about the sort of things that 12-year olds ought not to be worrying about, trickled away and turn into a stream of intrinsic hope.

Pretty much because there was a safe environment to grow up in - not ideal - but safe, in every way. Kids make mistakes, they spill red ink on the sheepskin rug, try to dash across roads without thinking of the consequences, have to be toilet-trained, and before that, potty-trained, and before that, ass-wiped, cry frequently, don't pay attention when they ought to, for their own good too, and pretty much freak/stress out the adults tasked with making sure they do grow up - head intact, still madly believing in goodness and with big dreams to chase down. When they get older they talk back, sneak out of the house and break curfew, refuse to communicate, sulk, won't pose for family photos and get into a heck of a lot of trouble which we aren't going to discuss in detail here. Later on, they just keep asking for money and you wonder which bottomless pit it all goes to, when they're already eating you out of house and home. This goes on, infinitum, until the caregiver-child relationship breaks down, through death or estrangement.

There's a point at which the dynamic changes. The caregiver becomes the aged parent, whose needs begin to increase and finally on balance, outweigh their degree of usefulness (at least so some would think). They have sleepless nights and need to be re-assured that they're not all alone. They can't get out much because their knees hurt and they can't walk and need to be pushed around in a wheelchair. Sometimes the aged parents have debilitating / length / frustrating / messy illnesses. Sometimes all of those traits come into play, making it, frankly, a heroic effort to deal with them. But powerpuffgirl, even on the days she isn't feeling very super, doesn't think its any much more heroic than what the first caregiver had to go through. In general, most aged parents may need a challenging degree of care for maybe 10 years, if you're lucky. Sometimes they get depressed, act stubborn, and give you a heck of a lot of trouble which details we won't discuss here. It costs money to get them medicine and supplies, never mind they're still eating, and alive, and able to smile at you sometimes, on the good days. It's tough.

But powerpuffgirl remembers her Koong Koong (Grandfather) wiping her ass, yes he did, and she's not ashamed to say it, when she was just a powerpuffbaby and violently ill and freaking out and her superhero parents were out working. She recalls being carried (even when she wasn't all that little anymore) for miles and miles and miles not because she couldn't walk but just because she wanted to be carried. She always had someone to drive her to school and lots of other places that kids want to go, and know that it was okay to be far away from the familiarity of home because she always had someone who would be on call 24/7 to get her if she got scared and chickened out. She was put to bed everyone night, up until she was maybe a powerpuffteen. When she was too big to be tucked in, Koong Koong would still come by and annoy her at night (it felt like an annoyance at the time, silly girl) by checking that she was asleep and getting alarmed when she wasn't. She didn't realise it was such a great thing to be cared for, without asking, without demand, and without even wanting it but always needing it. It was a safe environment to grow up in. She was superloved. She could fall down after trying to fly and there would be someone to pick her up and bandage her scraped knees.

Children grow up resilient not because they're left to fend for themselves but because they've been shown how to be strong. They are taught out of love, disciplined through tears from both sides, and knowing that they are allowed to make mistakes, are unpretentiously confident because they have nothing to prove in order to be considered valued, significant, worthy of relationship. On the other hand, there are some "high performers" who still go around with chips on their shoulders because they didn't know which of the old blocks they were supposed to be a chip off of. They perform, at any expense, to dispel potential rumours and possibly shore up evidence that they may be related to an old Victorian mansion, preferably one of the restored ones. But those who inherited the city on a hill never worry that someone's going to say otherwise about them. They've got the title deeds, which were given to them by someone who modelled to them how to act honourably and selflessly, in authority over themselves and their realm.

A couple of days ago, there was an article in the paper about how to get through times of adversity. Apparently, a study indicated that those who had gone through particular hardship at an earlier age learned coping mechanisms and so, as adults, were able to deal with crises better. That isn't in dispute, However, the article then went on to suggest what those poor unfortunate souls who had happy childhoods were to do in order to catch up (ya, it actually serious. Someone please revoke the degrees of those who ran the study). Without lambasting this ridiculous proposition further, powerpuffgirl thinks its utterly tragic that anyone would honestly believe they're a success because they've made it by themselves, no thanks for the help, opportunities, shoulder(s) to lean on, interventions and saving graces extended by other human beings. It helps if you've had those experiences earlier.

The writer of said article obviously didn't have a Koong Koong (Grandfather) to show him it's okay to be vulnerable in times of crises. 'Cos when you've got people who love you just because, you can sleep easy at night knowing you're never without someone who'll catch you when you fall. And you know you'd do just the same for them, if the roles were reversed. Without romanticising the difficulties, it is a great thing just to have someone you once needed (and often still do, but perhaps in other ways), who now needs you.