A Watched Pot Never Boils 🫖

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akindplace
c-ptsdrecovery

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RUN THE DISHWASHER TWICE. 

When I was at one of my lowest (mental) points in life, I couldn’t get out of bed some days. I had no energy or motivation and was barely getting by.

I had therapy once per week, and on this particular week I didn’t have much to ‘bring’ to the session. He asked how my week was and I really had nothing to say.

“What are you struggling with?” he asked.

I gestured around me and said “I dunno man. Life.”

Not satisfied with my answer, he said “No, what exactly are you worried about right now? What feels overwhelming? When you go home after this session, what issue will be staring at you?”

I knew the answer, but it was so ridiculous that I didn’t want to say it.

I wanted to have something more substantial.

Something more profound.

But I didn’t.

So I told him, “Honestly? The dishes. It’s stupid, I know, but the more I look at them the more I CAN’T do them because I’ll have to scrub them before I put them in the dishwasher, because the dishwasher sucks, and I just can’t stand and scrub the dishes.”

I felt like an idiot even saying it.

What kind of grown ass woman is undone by a stack of dishes? There are people out there with *actual* problems, and I’m whining to my therapist about dishes?

But my therapist nodded in understanding and then said:

“RUN THE DISHWASHER TWICE.”

I began to tell him that you’re not supposed to, but he stopped me.

“Why the hell aren’t you supposed to? If you don’t want to scrub the dishes and your dishwasher sucks, run it twice. Run it three times, who cares?! Rules do not exist, so stop giving yourself rules.”

It blew my mind in a way that I don’t think I can properly express.

That day, I went home and tossed my smelly dishes haphazardly into the dishwasher and ran it three times.

I felt like I had conquered a dragon.

The next day, I took a shower lying down.

A few days later. I folded my laundry and put them wherever the fuck they fit.

There were no longer arbitrary rules I had to follow, and it gave me the freedom to make accomplishments again.

Now that I’m in a healthier place, I rinse off my dishes and put them in the dishwasher properly. I shower standing up. I sort my laundry.

But at a time when living was a struggle instead of a blessing, I learned an incredibly important lesson:

THERE ARE NO RULES.

RUN THE DISHWASHER TWICE!!!

(by Kate Scott 2018)

ignescent

I am reminded about the person with ocd whose therapist had them taking their iron with them in the car, so they didn’t obsess over whether they’d left it on. I got over a ton of my anxiety about getting lost by basically packing apocalypse level go bag. Was i going to be driving more than the 15 minutes to the office? No. Is there any situation where i am going to /need/ the tent and camp shovel that’s in my car? Pretty low odds on that. Did putting those things in the trunk mean i could relax and not freak out about stuff going wrong? Yep, and it didn’t cost anything more than some space for groceries.

If you can find work around that work for you, fucking embrace them.

roach-works

i used to get really intense night terrors, because i was a huge ball of anxiety and i also have incredibly detailed and intense nightmares basically every single night.

you know what helped?

when i lived on my own in college, i bought a roman gladiolus off a guy in pioneer square for 30$ and i kept it leaned up against my bed. when i woke up from a nightmare i’d stick my hand out and grab my sword and be like ‘okay. so. whether or not monsters are real. this sword is very real.’

it really, really helped. unlike sleeping with a loaded gun, it’s very hard to kill anyone on accident with a sheathed sword, but still extremely goddamn comforting to hug eight pounds of sharpened steel while you try and figure out if the insect man is going to come back out of your closet and keep peeling your skin off.

several years later when i didn’t need it anymore, i sold the sword to a nice lesbian, also for 30$, also in pioneer square, thus completing the cycle of Weird Guy Who Will Sell You A Suspiciously Cheap Sword. keeping portland weird is a sacred duty to all who partake.

anyway, if you’re scared of shit, please buy a very big blade, i can’t recommend it highly enough. walmart sells machetes in the camping aisle for like 10$.

damnshebanged

Honestly so many people I saw for my ocd had the goal of fixing it completely and I never got anywhere, until I had one that said ‘you are always going to have ocd. You don’t have to fix it, you just have to twist your rules and find loopholes to make it manageable’ and you know what? That helped so *fucking* much. Can’t stop yourself from checking the front door lock 45 times when you leave? Get your partner to do it for you. A previous therapist told me to do it once and just ride out the panic attack. Since I’ve been asking him to do it, I only need to check 5 times when I leave by myself. Have a crippling fear about being in the car for more than an hour but need to travel a really long distance? Make an itinerary to stop at nice rest stops every 45 minutes. Some shitty advice I got about that was to put myself in the car and let my partner drive me wherever he wanted to go for hours without letting me out. Since I realised we can stop wherever possible, I feel a lot better about travelling, where before I got a panic attack just walking down the road. Worried about the microwave blowing up while you’re out? Sell it. Another therapist told me to microwave porridge for breakfast every morning until I stopped panicking about it. I haven’t missed the microwave but I’m lucky there cause I love cooking. You don’t have to break your rules, but bending them helps a whole lot, as does flat out ignoring rules which don’t work for you. Everyone gets mad at me when I tell them I don’t have a microwave. What role says I have to own one? Only the rule that we put on ourselves. I don’t have that rule anymore and I love it. Fuck microwaves.

your-mom-friend

My little sister takes a bag on every car trip and is packed with anything we might need. Pads, a comb and tiny mirror, hair ties and clips, a spare scarf, masks and gloves, vaseline, Panadol. She gets anxious about these things and we all sort of collectively decided it wasn’t worth worrying over, even if she brings it for even the smallest trips or it takes her a while to get the bag when we’re late. And you know what? It helped. It helped her, it came in handy quite a few times. Let people do things that make them worry less and it just makes a better experience for everyone involved

c-ptsdrecovery

#before my oarents moved in i didnt put clothes away#i had a clean basket and a dirty basket ans a clothing rack and rhey all lived in the laundry room#it worked#it was fine#and then they moved in and decided i needed to put stuff away and now my laundry is a disaster all the time#ugh  tags via @samiholloway

Yes! I recently moved out and bought myself two clothes baskets: clean and dirty. I don’t use the dresser at all anymore: if it isn’t something I hang in the closet, I leave it in the basket (even if I fold it first, like jeans, so it doesn’t get wrinkly). It’s SO MUCH EASIER! I also use two washcloths in the shower: one for my face and one for everything else, because I didn’t like the idea of using my body washcloth on my face? My mom would’ve had a fit if I was still living at home, but she’s not here now, so fuck that.

livebloggingmydescentintomadness

a couple years ago, when my health was at about the lowest it’s ever been, i was so fatigued that i would often go an entire week without going downstairs.

while that’s a problem in its own right, the biggest issue with it is that i’m the one who prepares food for me and my mom. i’m good at cooking, i like cooking, and i like eating my food. i wanted to cook, but i just couldn’t fucking make it downstairs, and definitely not for the length of time it would take to cook a meal.

so i bought a mini toaster oven for our upstairs laundry room. we already had a little minifridge that helped us eat, but we both missed hot food, so i got this two-slice toaster oven and set it on the washing machine while it was in use, and set it on a shelf while we did laundry.

it helped so fucking much. i figured out so many tricks to make things in a tiny toaster oven that you wouldn’t think could be made in a toaster oven, and we both benefited physically and mentally from good, warm, nutritious food. i benefited from being able to feel like i could still accomplish things, like i hadn’t lost this part of my life.

i’ve actually gotten a bit better now, i can go downstairs every couple days and cook something, but i still use that toaster oven every single day. sure, having an upstairs toaster oven in a laundry room sounds weird as shit, but who fucking cares? it makes my life better. that’s all that matters.

akindplace
catmat

I think what a lot of people don't understand is the cumulative effect that chronic illnesses have on the body. We have our coping mechanisms but that doesn't mean that the flares, constant symptoms, and toll it takes on our bodies get easier as the years go by.

On the contrary, the amount of flares we experience wear us down. It's not like getting a flu once a year and feeling perfectly fine in between and having that chance to recover.

A flare would be like having a terrible flu with the worst symptoms you can imagine that never fully subside. You come out of that flare worn out, completely exhausted, and still experience those symptoms everyday.

Then the next flare comes a couple of weeks later, and you're already worn out but have no choice to endure the symptoms and just hope it passes quickly. And this happens over and over again and most often indefinitely.

The cumulative effect of chronic illnesses chips away at an already strained and exhausted body. And I can't even begin to describe the emotional toll this has on us as well. The amount of willpower it takes to endure the constant flares, the symptoms, new symptoms that arise, the endless appointments, the gaslighting, inaccessibility, and not being believed is unreal.

And when we struggle and can't cope, it's not because we're not strong, it's because we have a health care system that is built to cure but not to take care of people with chronic illnesses. We are left to manage on our own, with little support from medical professionals, often at the most painful times in our lives.

Chronic illness isn't about just being sick. It's about everything in between, everything unseen, and the amount of silent issues that pile up on each other that society expects us to take in stride.

So when people say that they wish they could just stay in bed all day, they need to remember that having a chronic illness is unlike that headache they had that time or the flu they had last year. It's a cumulative physical and emotional toll that we endure day after day. And it is never-ending.