The math of the house was entirely wrong.
There were three boys: twins who had reached 10 and whose love-hate relationship with each other was meandering a long course through hate right now, and a five-year-old with an adult-sized temper that made every conversation, meal and activity suggestion feel like treading through a minefield.
There were 24 hours a day to divide between three separate homeschooling curricula, three separate sporting commitments and the precise, exhausting maintenance of a rental property we did not own.
There was a part-time job that required a specific kind of professional literacy, and a part-time university degree that required another.
You learn to write essays with one eye while checking long division with the other, confiscate scissors wielded as a sword with one hand and use any spare limbs to stop the whole thing from burning down.
Then the leg. When you are on crutches, the geometry of a standard hallway changes.
Every object becomes an obstacle and every trip to the kitchen sink warrants a cost-benefit analysis. The standard of what constitutes clean clothes becomes increasingly open to interpretation, and if just one person manages to shower in a day, that is a failure disguised as a victory.
The kelpie, accustomed to weekly sheep herding, daily river swims and regular outings, was suddenly grounded by my immobility. We were both in lockdown, but his inability to understand why became destructive frustration. His methodical gnawing at the legs of the dining table was a tangible portrayal of how well we were both handling the injury.
At the windows, two cats, who were not on the lease, shredded the fly screens with a subdued, rhythmic persistence. It was added to the mental inventory of typically mundane, but currently challenging, tasks to be dealt with before the house inspection.
You ignore the lawn, which has grown to a height that feels like an explicit accusation from the neighbours. The tyres on the car could use some air, but it seems inappropriate to put air in if you haven’t also cleaned the trash out of the passenger-seat footwell.
None of this seemed permanent.
The break did not come from the noise, or the leg, or the dog, or the unwritten reports. It came from an administrative assistant.
The phone rang on a Tuesday morning to say the ultrasound for the leg was being rescheduled. Again. The voice on the other end was perfectly polite, perfectly bureaucratic and perfectly unyielding. It was the second time the appointment had moved due to totally acceptable scheduling issues.
I did not argue. I did not get angry. I stood at the dining table, while the children ate three different types of breakfast, and cried.
I held the phone to my ear and cried to a stranger about a medical scan, but really it was the screens, the dog, the mess, the fights, the dishes and too many things to juggle while balancing on one leg.
It had accumulated in the corners, quiet and unnoticed, until the phone call sank the boat.
The reality behind the buoyancy.
~ ~ ~
When you picture someone who is struggling, what do you see? Someone who can’t get out of bed? Someone who throws themselves into work or study while everything else falls away?Someone who might not even recognise that they are struggling? Or perhaps someone who continues going to work, submitting assignments, looking after their family and getting through the day without anyone realising just how much they are carrying.
Struggling doesn’t look the same for everyone. And with life moving so quickly, it can be easy to miss the signs that a friend, classmate, colleague or even someone we live with isn’t doing OK.
That is why asking matters. R U OK? Day encourages us to check in with the people around us and start conversations that might otherwise never happen – not just on one day, but whenever we sense someone might need it.
Asking the question can feel daunting, particularly if you’re worried about what the answer might be. What if they say they’re not OK? What if you don’t know what to say next?
But you don’t need to have all the answers. Start by choosing a time and place where you can talk comfortably, ask how they’re going, and genuinely listen to what they have to say. If they need more help than you can provide, encourage them to connect with appropriate support.
Sometimes there is no single thing that has gone wrong. Sometimes it is the screens, the dog, the mess, the fights and the dishes. Sometimes we simply don’t know how much has accumulated in someone else’s boat.
So ask. And don’t wait for R U OK? Day to do it.
Support is available
UniSQ students can access free and confidential wellbeing services, including counselling and referrals, online and across all campuses.
R U OK? provides information and resources to help you start a conversation with someone you’re concerned about.
If you or someone you know needs crisis support, Lifeline is available 24 hours a day on 13 11 14 or by text on 0477 13 11 14.
If life is in immediate danger, call Triple Zero (000).
