“For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), It’s always our self we find in the sea.”
-E.E. Cummings
Since the last time I updated everyone about good ole Australia, I have managed to start, but never finish, multiple different posts for this blog. Some of them were about the joys of being 2-Dimensional, of being in a world where I was an index for only myself and none of the baggage or labels that came with being me. Others were about the pros and cons of being a uni student who actually lived on campus ( a wild tale that is deserving of adequate and accurate coverage.) None of the words that I typed to be published seemed to do it for me. I had hit a slump.
Over the course of these past few weeks I have been the recipient of wonderful and exciting news from across the pond, have interacted with loving and supportive friends here in Australia, and have corresponded with some of my favorite people from back home. I have been reading wonderfully exciting books and listening to interesting new podcasts about the history of language, art, and sexuality. Yet, despite all of this positivity, I found myself becoming overwhelmed and completely consumed by anxiety. Some days it was difficult to crawl out of bed and make the trek to my classes and I noticed myself starting to withdraw from the exercise groups I was part of, too tired from lack of sleep to feel any desire to exert any more energy than needed.
Good Friday marked the official start to the Easter Holiday here at UoN and, after a night of hastily packing odds and ends into a backpack, I departed with my roommate Mikayla to Minnie Water where we would spend a week with her family. We left at 7 am on Friday morning and drove for around 6 hours or so, stopping for a lunch break at Mackers, and then arrived to Minnie Water. For the last three years Mikayla’s family had stayed in Minnie Water in a rented beach house that was just along the water as a retreat from her parents busy lives. This year they were going here also to celebrate Easter and had been kind enough to welcome the token American along for the ride. This little retreat turned out to be exactly what I had needed.
The house was small and eclectic. As you walked in you were bombarded with two twin size beds and an untrustworthy spiral staircase. Once the staircase was summited, the room opened up into a dining table, seating area, kitchen, and balcony. The furniture had the smell and aesthetic of my Oma’s house and the walls were lined with old photographs and replicas of Indigenous masks and tapestries, together emitting the aura of a late 19th century ethnographers home. Just past the kitchen a small set of stairs led you to rooms on either side, the right housing a full size bed and the left two sets of bunk beds with zebra comforters. In between them was a hallway that was outfitted as a bathroom, with a toilet stall and shower the size of a small pantry, hidden behind a series of billowing shower curtains.
This home would be where the six of us would share our meals, watch film adaptations of Pride and Prejudice, and toddle about during the week. Whenever we weren’t lounging about the house, I would either be found at the beach with Mikayla’s mom and siblings or walking to find the cliffs edge on the other side of the residence where cell reception could be found. Since I’ve been in Australia, Mikayla’s family have been the only people who have made me feel safe waltzing into the ocean, who told me what to look out for and how to signal for help if need be. After the first time they taught me how to interact with the ocean on Sunday, I would spend the rest of the week tagging along with them to swim amongst the waves.
For the first time in what feels like a century, the holiday gave me the opportunity to invest in leisurely activities where I could forget about time, deadlines, or responding to emails, and just focus on relaxing. So when I wasn’t in the water or eating ( or more so while I was eating, actually) I invested some time in learning how to crotchet. Sitting on the couch was just a crotchet hook and some yarn, I was able to allow my thoughts to wander and let time pass as I crocheted away. It was nice to just let my mind relax and not really think, or overthink, what was going on around me. I forget sometimes that thinking too much can be debilitating. After only a couple of days of mental detoxing, swimming, and eating tons of Easter chocolate, I had managed to finally get myself to have a full nights rest, unassisted by melatonin tablets.
Of course, the vacation wasn’t all relaxation and leisure. There were some exciting times, like when we almost got dragged into the ocean by an overwhelming undertow, or when we got to see a tawny frogmouth owl from only a meter away as it sat perched on the balcony. As amazing as these moments were, I found that the technological and mental detox that this past week has given me has been the best gift. That and getting to spend a week with Mikayla’s lovely family, who will be the topic of a future post when I visit them in Tamworth next month.
Now, having returned to my dorm room from my adventures in Minnie Water, I feel refreshed and ready to carpe the rest of my diems. I feel like I have been given the chance to restart and to enter into the second half of the semester reenergized and ready to smash my assignments. I also find that I have a renewed and revised understanding of what it means to relax and plan to use that in my free time to help me to try and avoid spiraling into another anxiety ridden, isolation seeking slump.
Until Next Time….