Way back when, in the days of Miller Lite’s, past 10pm bedtimes, never in a million years a thoughts of Botox, life seemed easy and breezy. Being single did not suck, Monday’s were the only day my liver liked me and the whole universe happily rotated around me, myself and I. The only “oil” I knew about was the one for my car, because my dad would always yell at me for not making sure it was changed.
15 years later guess who spends her nights banging out assignments for her Diploma of Master Aromatherapy? The girl who realised that the world now had a handful more people to look after and it was a job that came with a way too many guidebooks in the library.
Postpartum was not pretty on me, just ask my husband who I am sure muttered WTF more times at home than he ever did at his job. And being a police officer, that says a lot about how pretty feral I was. Pretty sure the perps were learning their bad language from me. The struggle was real and while I had some temporary solutions, something in me knew I needed to find safe, longer term options.
Now…I am not a hippie. Not there is any flack being thrown at the hippies. I dig their vibe. I love a good flannel shirt, I can go several days without washing my hair or shaving my pits, commit to only wearing my bra part-time, but I have never towed the line of Woo-Woo (my clinical term for anything super-duper alternative. Its legit, look it up). I love science, I get clinical evidence and will read a biography over a non-fiction. Except lately, I am so sucked into reading everything by Laine Moriarty. BUT…..there came a time when I was given a choice of letting life all come caving in, crawling in bed for days with a bottle and maybe not wanting to come out. My nature, my nurture, the tsunami that had come in and the cement shoes I was wearing, all pointed to a super-hot-mess.
Tucked away in my drawer were 5 little bottles a friend of my had sent me, just because she is that kind of friend. The one where you mention just the littlest thing is off and she has a care package taped and tagged before you hang up. I looked at these little bottles and said, “bottles, if you are really, really going to work, now is the time. It’s either you or the Pinot so let’s see what ya got”.
Peace & Calming – every.single.day.
Two weeks later, my husband quietly and timidly (can’t blame him, poor bugger) asks what I have been doing different because he has never seen me so resilient. I had to look up what that word meant because is was so not in my vocab. He was right. Something was different, something was better. And not like the heavens have opened and all was right in the world. But better like…all my problems seemed manageable. Instead of feeling like I couldn’t handle the arrows of issues that were flinging my way, I somehow knew that it was all going to be okay. So weird right? How could that be possible? Here is what I learned those first two weeks and why I never looked back.
These bottles don’t solve your problems. They are not Shamans or Reiki Masters in oil form. They are not pizza or Tim Tams.
What they do provide, is the ability to let your brain know the real size of your situation, and lay a strong hand on the emotions that want to blow them all out of proportion.
That Goliath is really just a David.
For me, who struggled with some really real mental health issues….this was life changing. And then, not just for me. But for my kids who now had a mum who was able take that deep breath and not go all “no wire hangers” over every little left out Lego. For my husband who heard me complain a whole lot less, cry a WHOLE lot less and take part in life a whole lot more. Motherhood, marriage and future suddenly had gotten brighter just a little bit every day.
Now – I can’t stop, won’t stop sharing with every woman (men too – just ask my converted husband) on how things can be better. For reals.
If you have questions, ask away – questions are my favourite!
***Now I say all this and want to balance it out with saying that anyone who is struggling with ANY sort of mental health issue, no matter how big or small, share this with their GP. I don’t have a medical degree and lordy knows I never plan too. I am happily going to stick with my diploma. ***