Vodka & Rainbows: A mental health review

 

Have you ever had one of those days weeks months where you start the morning far too early, washing pissy sheets from, yet another, wet bed, your kids decide that drawing on the couch with pen is a great idea, 3 hours after you get up you finally sit down to breakfast, you manage to wash AND PUT AWAY every item of clothing & crockery laying around only to head into the afternoon with a full sink & a basket full of miniature peed in undies, your tiny human who usually sleeps solidly for 2 hours a day decides that that’s well overrated… two days in a row, leaving him homicidal & looking very much like a Chucky doll with a flashing neon Yoyo as his weapon of choice, only to finish the day with your 5 year old having the Mother of All Meltdowns on the floor of your caravan, screaming blue murder, hating school, her brother, her family, her living arrangements, the country, the world, the universe, & wishing everyone would just LEAVE. HER. ALONE!!!!, & all you want to do is go foetal on the floor with a pair of earplugs but you can’t because, despite how much you’ve swept it, it’s still covered in red dirt & fucking Rice Bubbles?

 

No?

 

Me neither.

 

 

The last few weeks have been a pretty big adjustment for all of us.

 

We rolled down the stabilising legs on our Caravan of Certain Divorce happy home about six weeks ago.

 

That heralded the end of our daily adventures as we knew them & the start of a few things.

 

New job for Laithe.

Big school for Georgie.


Complete & utter isolation for Emerson.


And a return to something that feels very much like my former dreary home life; cooking, cleaning, washing, only this time without my fabulous dishwasher to keep me company.

There’s been a marked decline in the state of mental health around here which, unfortunately for me, hasn’t correlated with an increase in alcohol consumption.

We’d been spoilt with all that traveling & unemployment; not having to get up on anyone’s schedule, except Emerson’s who thinks Sparrow’s Fart is still a reasonable time to demand request breakfast.

Laithe’s job has had him up at 5.30am & home about 12-13 hours later, thirteen days a fortnight. He’s been tired, impatient & still depressed that he’s even had to work at all.

For the rest of us, the school term started well.
Everyone was up early & ready on time so we could walk, ride or scoot to school.
But after a few weeks, the weather turned to shit, the three of us got coughs & colds, & a certain level of fatigue set in.

Georgie, who was desperately craving some independence, would take off on her bike, & I would be stuck with this guy taking 20 minutes to ride 800 metres because he had to stop & inspect every. single. piece. of shit & rubbish along the way.

The commentary that went with his inspections was detailed.

I especially hated Wednesdays- bin day- because, not only did it take forever to get to school, it was a full scale assault on the senses. Every 5 meters.

“Mum! *sniff sniff* I smell somesing.”

Emerson usually takes most things in his stride, but it’s been killing him not being allowed to go to school too. He just can’t understand why they won’t let him stay.

He’s the most enthusiastic kid in the class.

He runs in there every morning with a huge smile & a “DOOD MORNING MISSAH HAWIS!”, to which Mrs Harris has gradually gotten used to.

Georgie’s first term of ‘real school’ has been… er… character building?
For her and I.

Academically she’s been doing fantastically.


Though while her reading & writing improved dramatically, so did her left hook.

She was so tired after school/ before school/ on the weekends that she completely lost her ability to be reasonable, pleasant, & non-violent.
MEGA embarrassing when you’ve gratefully camped on you’re friend’s front lawn & are trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

She had a check-up with the school Nurse the other week who’s nursing assessment was “A very polite, well mannered young lady”. Apparently her vision & hearing were good, but her manners? Spectacular!

Say what?

I’d like a second opinion, please.

She was getting so frustrated with everyone that all she could do was kick, scream & throw herself around on the bed. I’d never seen that kind of shit from her before.

From me, yes. But not from her.

It was awful.

And after the Mother of ALL Meltdowns, just when I thought the Academy Award was in the the bag & it couldn’t get any worse, the following afternoon I was proven wrong.

I don’t even know what set it off.

I don’t think she even knew what set her off but my bed got stripped, stuff got thrown all over the van, she nearly put her foot through the cupboard, & Emerson got so freaked out he had to leave.

She screamed that she was ‘SICK OF THIS VAN! I AM SICK OF EMERSON! I AM SICK OF YOU! I HATE NEAT & TIDY. I WANT MESSY & DIRTY! AND I HATE ALL THESE COLOURS(in the van)! I JUST WANT EVERYTHING GREY!!!!!”

I’m no fan of imitation wood grain panelling either, but I didn’t think it was worth losing my shit over.

I was exhausted just watching her.

That was last week.

I’ve spent all this time, AGAIN, questioning what we’re doing? Whether this trip was a god idea? Was it fair on the kids? How many night duties would I have to do to pay for therapy when they’re older? And what could I do to make things pleasant again?

I decided some pets might be a good idea.

You know? To help decrease our risk of depression, lower our blood pressure in stressful situations, increase serotonin & dopamine so everyone can just CHILL. OUT.

Of course, they had to be caravan friendly.

(Our new family members. They’re a hoot!)

I was totally right.

We spent an ENTIRE day doing crafty stuff. Drawing, cutting, pasting. Making a frigin mess.

Nobody glued their hands together. Nobody got stabbed in the face with the scissors. And everyone’s tympanic membranes remained intact.

And almost just like that, a corner was turned.

Since then, the hysteria has subsided, the post-school sibling World Champion Kickboxing title fights have ceased, & there is laughing again.

Not evil, demonic ‘laughing while I scratch you eyes out’ laughing, but proper, giddy, ‘I’m gonna wet my pants if I don’t stop soon’ laughing.
The stuff I was used to.

And it is pleasant as hell.
Like waking up to this the other morning…


Of course, we don’t all shoot rainbows out of our arses every day & she still gets totally pissed off, but she’s chosen to express herself in a much more reserved & mature way…

Message received. Loud & clear.

Look at the bottom picture. It’s ME! The observant little wench has even drawn in my grey roots! Look how sad I am.
*sigh*

I do my best not to “mack her angrie”, but some days I’d like just a Vodka & a long soak in a full bath, or a long soak in bath full of Vodka. Whatever.

The school term finishes in a couple of weeks (thank Christ). Our poor, long suffering friends will have their front yard back, & we’ll be back out on The Road.
Back to “normal”.

Hopefully with enough cash in our pockets to get us back to Sydney without having to stop for work again.

Back to the In-Laws place where I can have a long soak in a bath. And where I can fill it with Vodka if I want to.