I have dedicated the last ten years to raising my children.
In fact, I hadn’t spent more than a day or two away from the boys since the first one was born in 2018. So I’m not completely surprised that by 2022 I was one stomped foot away from a full throttle mental breakdown!
My youngest, Nicholas, was born in June 2022. The entire pregnancy and delivery thereafter were in short, traumatising. He was only five months old when I decided it was time to finally do something for me and book a holiday. It was this or face the straitjacket consequence of the aforementioned impending mental breakdown.
I had turned the big 3-0 in January of that year which had undoubtedly catapulted me into some pretty deep thoughts. I spent a great deal of time questioning my life experiences. I came to the harrowing conclusion that I hadn’t really lived the way that most girls my age might have lived – no cheeky hen parties, no girl holidays, no weekends “painting the town red”. In all honesty, I was feeling a little sorry for myself. But I made my bed and, of course, I most definitely did lie in it. I mean, the proof is in the pudding really – I’ve obviously gotten to know my bed quite well over the years.
My younger sister had mentioned she had planned a “once in a lifetime luxury trip” to Africa and in a “can’t-see-blue-cheese-go-by-me” sort of way, I couldn’t help feel somewhat resentful of how free she was to be able to do that. No balls and chains whatsoever.
“Lucky bitch!”, I spluttered.
Africa had always been MY dream. As a little girl, I used to daydream about moving to Africa and helping to rehabilitate all of the sick and injured animals there like Joy Adamson and Elsa the Lion. I wanted to be just like Joy – what little girl didn’t want to say they had a lion as a pet?!
Suddenly, in one utterly spontaneous moment there was me, the 30-year-old mother-of-three, jumping aboard my younger sister’s holiday to Africa!
Now I wouldn’t be surprised if there were at least one or two judgemental remarks said by family members considering I had only just had baby Nicholas five months prior. Perhaps they might have mentioned how irresponsible a mother I was? Or, maybe, how selfish?
But in my defence, 10 years is an awfully long time to be constantly (did I mention constantly?!) on call.
To be “mum” all the time is not only physically draining but mentally challenging and, frankly, I needed the breathing space. I remember how I was feeling those days like they were yesterday – I was EXHAUSTED! There is no denying that my mental health was drastically dipping with every sleepless night spent nursing a colic-ridden baby.
Mothers can often feel ashamed of post-natal depression. We feel we have to put our own needs on hold, to freeze every emotion except love for the sake of raising happy, well-balanced children. We try so hard to provide our children with support and patience and the occasional whispering word of discipline (no shouting, screaming or “ugly crying” at your child allowed), it’s in the “Gen-Z” parenting rule book apparently.
Heaven forbid a mother leaves her child for a few moments never mind for TEN days!
My logic was, “It’s now or never!” and before we knew it, we were thousands of feet in the air and I was on my way to blissful paradise!
Africa was more than I expected in many ways and less in others. But overall, it was most definitely an experience of a lifetime where one of the most intimate and self-developmental moments occurred for me.
We were visiting the Three Rondavels that overlook the Blyde River Canyon. These monstrous rocky hills, shaped like traditional African beehive huts, are a breathtaking sight. But it was while visiting the Graskop Gorge, just a short distance away, that something remarkable took place.
“The Big Swing” is a well-known tourist attraction for ambitious adrenalin seekers and those who enjoy watching other people carelessly risk their lives freefalling the 68-meter drop down the Graskop Waterfall. Our group watched in horror as little human dots in the distance vanished in a second as they plummeted into the treetops below.
Yet as we were called by our guide to head back to our vehicle, I instead found myself walking over the 52-metre-long suspension bridge towards the Big Swing as the bridge wobbled side-to-side in the air like the dragon scene from Shrek.
Suddenly, I was standing on the edge of the drop about to plummet to my demise like the other dots had before me!
I figured it was a test of character, a way to show myself that I am still young enough to be courageous, to be daring and brave, to show my children that we are only succeeding in life when we face our fears, with faith in ourselves to overcome them.
Arguably, it could well have been an indication that I was closer to a mental breakdown than I had originally suspected!
As I stood atop the plank of doom something surprising happened. It felt like my senses were coming alive for the first time in my life – everything was heightened!
The trees that awaited me were glowing emerald green, and the sun reflecting onto the waterfall created a sparkling diamond display that was simply beautiful to witness. Birds singing, water crashing, leaves rustling – every vibration, every sound felt raw and pure and beautiful.
In that last moment before the drop, I thought, “This is for me!” and for the first time in my life, I finally learned to let it all go.