Meet the Crash Test Dummy

Before I start implementing habits, protocols, challenges and whatever other self-improvement rabbit holes I decide to disappear down, it’s probably worth introducing the test subject. I’m Tracey. 

I’m 42 years old, live in rural Hawke’s Bay (New Zealand), have three boys, a fiancé I’ve been engaged to for nine years, two Labrador retrievers, some sheep, some chickens, and what I would describe as a mostly functional level of chaos.

The boys are 9 and 7-year-old twins.

They are my absolute world.

They are also the reason I’m grey and probably could be classified as an alcoholic if one looked too closely.

At any given moment one of them is hungry, bleeding, arguing, doing something dangerous, asking impossible questions, or yelling & ‘Mum’ from another room despite being fully capable of walking to where I am.

Sometimes all three manage it simultaneously.

The Dogs

We also have two Labrador x Golden Retrievers.

Red (the big one) is gorgeous, affectionate, loyal and generally the sort of dog that makes people want a Labrador.

Daizy  (the little minx) is a criminal.

She rounds up sheep, chases chickens, wanders off to visit the neighbours whenever she feels like

it, goes on midnight hunting missions and treats household rules as optional suggestions.

Fortunately, she’s also incredibly emotionally attuned and, at the very moment I am ready to list her on Trade Me, she does something completely endearing.

The Job

I’m a social worker and have spent nearly twenty years working in social work and psychology-related fields.

Most people have a fairly romantic idea of what that means.

The reality is somewhat different.

I work with people who generally don’t want my involvement and have no qualms about letting me know it, in systems I have limited control over, dealing with situations most people are fortunate enough never to encounter. I’ve been sworn at, threatened, chased with weapons and exposed to things that stay with you long after you’ve clocked off for the day.

It’s meaningful work.

It’s important work.

It’s also exhausting work.

The older I’ve got, the more interested I’ve become in helping people help themselves. Which is probably one of the reasons this experiment appeals to me so much.

The Brain

I’ve experienced depression on and off for years.

More recently, I was diagnosed with ADHD. To be honest, the diagnosis explained some things and completely contradicted others.

I’m not the stereotypical ADHD person who forgets appointments, loses their keys, or turns up late to everything. If anything, years of coping mechanisms, systems and anxiety have made me ridiculously organised.

What it did explain was the constant mental noise.

The tendency to become intensely interested in something, consume every podcast, book and article I can find on the topic, then become fascinated by something else. The endless search for better systems, better routines and better ways of doing things. The fact that I can spend hours learning about behaviour change while somehow failing to consistently change my own behaviour.

I don’t currently take medication for ADHD.

At 42, my coping strategies are well established and mostly effective. I’m not against medication, but at the moment I’m more interested in understanding how all the existing moving parts fit together before I start adjusting them.

Whether that’s wisdom or procrastination remains open for debate.

The Hormones

Then there’s perimenopause.

Which is a delightful experience where you get all the emotional regulation of a toddler but none of the sympathy people usually extend to toddlers.

Some days I’m fine.

Some days I’m convinced everyone around me is an idiot.

Some days I’m crying because a dog found its owner in a Facebook reel.

Some days all three of those things happen before breakfast.

It’s less of a phase and more of an ongoing hostage negotiation with my hormones.

The Health

Before I broke my ankle, I was a regular gym-goer. Most mornings started at 4.30am because it’s the only time nobody needs anything from me.

Sometimes I’d train.

Sometimes I’d study.

Sometimes I’d meditate.

Sometimes I’d scroll memes and call it self-care.

I’m generally pretty good at looking after myself.

I’m also exceptionally good at finding reasons not to do the things I know would help.

I know alcohol isn’t great for me.

I know I should meditate more consistently.

I know I spend too much time staring at my phone.

I know movement helps my mood.

I know sleep matters.

I know all of this because I’ve spent years reading about it, listening to experts talk about it and enthusiastically telling other people about it. Actually, doing it consistently is another matter altogether.

Why I’m Doing This

I’m not trying to become a wellness influencer. God help us all!

I’m not chasing perfection.

I’m not trying to optimise every second of my day.

I just want to know what actually works.

What makes a genuine difference to my mood, energy, resilience and overall quality of life?

What’s worth the effort?

What’s worth the money?

And what’s just another shiny promise wrapped up in a podcast clip and some clever marketing?

Over the next few months, I’m going to find out.

Some experiments will fail.

Some will probably be uncomfortable.

Some might be life changing.

Most will likely land somewhere in the messy middle.

Which is fine, because that’s where most of us live.

And doing it publicly holds me accountable. Which I seem to need.

So, there you have it.

The crash test dummy.

A middle-aged social worker with ADHD, perimenopause, three sons, questionable consistency and entirely too much knowledge about healthy living. 

Let’s see what happens next.