A Wedding in Bavaria - AKA my meltdown
I went on a course a few years back with work, one of those courses where you learn about yourself. Through better understanding yourself, you're supposed to be able to better interact with others. One of the things I learnt on this course was that I had two key drivers: Be Strong and Hurry up. This translates to mean that naturally I want to do things myself without help and do them on time or even early, perhaps irrespective of quality. I’ve taken this on board in my working life and taken steps to accommodate my drivers, but how am I doing away from work? It turns out not so well.
During this blog I’ve talked about role reversal, Abi’s at work, and I’m at home, but how much has actually reversed. Strangely enough I’ve still been taking out the rubbish; apparently this is a man thing. But more interestingly looking back over our time in CPH, I’ve still been the strong one in the family; that’s not changed. Maybe Abi lets me take this role, maybe I assume it or maybe it’s predetermined by the man being physically stronger. By being strong I’m using both senses of the word: both physically and mentally. Coming into mission CPH I was also significantly fitter than Abi.
Some examples of me being the strong one:
Doing the heavy lifting fetching and carrying. That’s man stuff anyway isn’t it?
Going out and getting food on our first night here. We were all knackered but I dug deeper to forage for takeaway.
Shouldering the burden of interacting with non english speakers. Obviously not in Denmark but in Italy and Germany
There is a problem here. People in the UK will be familiar with the story of Captain Oates on Scotts fatal attempt to reach the south pole. When Oates was too weak to continue, he walked off into a storm to die so as not to burden the team. But interestingly at the start of the expedition he was the strongest and most physically capable. It’s a fact that often the strongest are the first to fall as they keep doing extra for the team.
Right where am I going with all this. We were sat in Copenhagen airport on the way to Bavaria and it hit me that I was completely exhausted. This was manifesting itself with me being short with the wife and kids. How had this occurred? This was the culmination of 10 (even by our own standards) very hectic weeks. Combine together moving to a foreign country, going on holiday, hosting 25 visitors in eight weeks, double childcare, a cargo bike, watching the world cup in a non-ideal time zone and a self-set target to run 5k in under 20 minutes. To put it more succinctly, as my mum told me on the phone a few weeks ago, plain old fashioned overdoing it; burning the candle at both ends and in the middle. Still we were on the way to wedding number three of the year and there was no backing out.
I think I might just about have gotten away with it if it hadn’t been for the exceptionally hot weather. The wedding was fantastic, but 28c in a suit for a British lad like me isn’t fun. We walked 20 minutes to the reception through some pleasant hilly countryside; I was being strong, the lady couldn’t push the buggy. This was the most amazing view at a wedding that we’ve been to (sorry everyone else).
It was a superb day, although Abi picked up that I wasn’t anywhere near my usual form. Around 21.00 during the middle of the speeches a distraught Imogen appeared (she’d found a gang of older children to follow around) with several splinters in her hand. Luckily the Farther of the Bride is a top surgeon, and a minor bit of scalpel work later and Immy was patched up. We decided to bid a hasty retreat. I attempted to be strong and carry Imogen the mile back to our hotel. At about two thirds of the way home I realised I couldn’t carry her any further and alarm bells began to ring. That night I was significantly unwell, a mixture of exhaustion, heat exhaustion and probably, if I’m honest too much rich food.
Thankfully after 20 hours in the hotel room, five oral rehydration sachets and 1 litre of coke, I was patched back up enough to enjoy the remainder of our break including a trip up the local hill in a cable car.
Maybe finally I’ve learnt my lesson; I’ve done this twice previously since we’ve had kids. If you’re going to be strong to help the family you need to know what your personal limit is and when to back off or ask for help. Will I change? Probably not, but I’ll make sure I don’t reach complete exhaustion again, after all a broken Daddy is no use to anyone.
