When everything just gets too much, I occasionally pack my bags and head for the Lake District with a bootfull of beer.
There's a field, that my old man used to take me to, where I camp up next to a babbling ice cool river, and I usually drive my tent pegs in with a 20lb sledge and get back to nature for a few days. In a corner of the field, shaded by conifers is a, - well I'm not sure exactly what it is, but it's smallish, stone built and very dark. I've seen some women from a nearby campsite, and some lost walkers try to crap in there. They either come out after a few minutes, very pale and quiet, or dash out immediately, screaming and waving their arms. I once saw a spider emerge, blinking, threaten a few sheep and a passing osprey, and then swagger back in. If the shepherd spots the tent, he comes over, usually around 6am, and charges me a pound per night. Even though I recognise him from childhood, I suspect he's a member of the 'Alternative Shepherds Union', - he usually arrives with a miniature poodle wearing a natty little coat, and he once put a sign up outside my tent while I was asleep that said "NO FIRES AT ALL".
What he'd make of electricity I'm not sure.
I think you should get back to basics, never mind all this campervan/caravan business, you'll feel better for it.
H