I’m sitting by a tropical pool in Broome, recovering from a terrible stomach bug that went through the whole family. I’ve been lacking energy, zest, patience and tolerance for a week now. I was prone to snapping at the kids and any noise they made was incredibly annoying. My husband kept telling me how mean I was being. I started to think this big family trip of ours was bad for my mental health. I was not feeling motivated to do anything, making decisions was difficult. This trip around the North of Australia was supposed to bring us closer as a family not make us hate each other.
Then my youngest started vomiting, right there by the campfire. A picturesque evening by the banks of the De Grey River, bush camping, everyone happy for a moment staring at the flames of the campfire, anticipating the toasted marshmallows.
After a pretty rough night of half hourly vomitting from Mr T I was tired too. We stumbled our way into our next stop, where I could no longer ignore my throbbing headache and now started to feel nauseous. Thank goodness I was able to snooze away the afternoon with Toby.
Now that I was officially sick too, there was more tolerance from others for my requests for help and also to be left alone to rest! But when I was just plain grumpy there was no forgiveness, maybe I even looked like Cruella DeVille?
Was I getting sick all along? or was I not coping mentally with all the change this trip has brought?
Was I just ill? or mentally ill?
These thoughts are still rattling around in my head. This second guessing of my ability to ‘adult’ and ‘cope with life’ is taxing on me.
Do you ever wonder if you are just sick or if it is your mental illness closing everything?
Does an illness sneak up on you with a case of the grumps first?