Thaw…

So I’m not going South this season, opting to not apply for Scott Base and leaving my 2023/24 fate to the whims of the AAD’s – Australian Antarctic Division – shortlisting crew (although I’m apparently a standby for the tech role in case someone gets too drunk and falls off the ship).

The short story is that my last season South wasnt a load of giggles (admittedly I made it worse by getting into a negative spiral which never helps) and for the sake of my mental health chose to have a break. Five full summers and a winter season pretty much in a row takes a toll, and this Christmas will be only my second Christmas back in the real world since 2017.

Cooling my heels in Christchurch since returning from Scott Base in February, it’s jarring now though to see the new Scott Base crew go through the induction training; all excited and fresh faced, getting ready to head down for the upcoming Summer and Winter seasons. FOMO is real though and like childbirth (apparently) the emotional pain of a bad season is soon forgotten. I’ll apply next season though and see what changes 18 months of the Scott Base Rebuild program can bring.

I’m back working a short contract with ANTNZ (doing a new laptop rollout and some IT disposals) and have been on the benches for all of this seasons prep. It’s low key stressless fun to be on the sidelines peeling the oranges for a change, and having the opportunity to not get wrapped up in all of the drama is luxurious.

Finishing up in September (maybe), facing the usual uncertainty of what to do next, where will I live (my housesit is up in December), whats on the horizon etc etc. The usual semi-retired contractor stuff causing sleepless nights and excessive caffeine consumption – I’m sure the two arent related in any way. Bit of a health scare happening at the moment as well thats giving me pause – nothing concrete, just an unexpectedly bad but usually routine test result that needs to be investigated. Getting older sucks a bit.

For the moment though my cup’s a little empty, coming out of a bleak Christchurch winter, shaking off what I can only assume is some SAD related DGAF’s and embracing the sunny 19 degree days the South island has been blessed with this week, life is ok. Not great, but ok and getting better each day.

Bring on summer though. I’m over this cold weather completely and both my mind and body need a thorough thaw to help wash the last 6 years of damage away. Also the mood dips and blips of a New Zealand Winter gets old fast.

My Rat Count in the house is up to double digits now as the derelict houses up the street are demolished and the rats relocate for Spring. Lucky me. The scritch-scratch-screech sounds of them squeaking, humping and scampering around the the roofspace and inside the walls wakes me several times each night, in the way wee hours of the morning. For them (and anyone else for that matter), this is a death sentence. I hate rats. Die rats, die.

It’s unusually deserted at Vics cafe today, a quiet oasis of coffee and bakery that I can lean into and recover when I’m a little sub par. The rats have driven me out of the house at 7am on a Saturday, and Ive headed down earlier than usual – it’s not all bad as when the coffee is on and the bagels are fresh my writey words start to shake loose again and the endless inner monologue shuts the fuck up.

I tagged onto a Mental Health First Aid course at work on Friday (on my day off – man I’m so dedicated), and it kinda triggered/reinforced thoughts as to where I am at the moment on the mental health spectrum. I’ve been living in the reactive stage for years (no surprises there) – a largely flat joyless plodding existence except for the odd bubble of hope here and there rising up from the depths – it’s my normal these days (which explains a lot I guess). Not good. This break and some ‘normalisation’ is a good idea longer term as I cant go on like this indefinitely. It’s unsustainable. Who could?

The Rugby World Cup game between NZ and France is happening and the sports mad kiwis are glued to their TVs and Sports bars. I suppose all the footy boofheads will be out and about in one form or another very soon. I enjoy rugby even less than I enjoy rats.

Time to hit the cinemas early I guess.

Rivetting I know.