More Self Care

Personal, Writing

About two years ago, I made a post with my favorite things to do for self care. That post mostly included fun relaxation things. This is part two of that post but with more practical things, for when it’s not so much “treat yourself” but more “I’m living in a dark hell pit and need to find a way to climb out of it.” (What? No, I’m fine. Things are totally fine over here.)

  1. Clean your space: I know it’s not fun and I know you don’t want to do it, but I guarantee that if you do you will feel much better. I clean my whole apartment once a week. I put on a podcast (usually My Favorite Murder) and just fully absorb myself in scrubbing gunk off the walls. Anyone else ever just walked around their house scrubbing every mark off the wall with those magic eraser sponges? If not you should, it’s incredibly therapeutic. (And if you’re lucky you might get high off the weird cleaner fumes.)
  2. Eat a piece of fruit: Sometimes I forget to eat for a day or so and I feel sick and awful. Then I eat a fruit cup and boom bam, I feel like I can take on the world. Or at least like I can get out of bed for an hour.
  3. Write a list: List making is an underappreciated art form. Make a good list and you will feel less stressed and angry. Just make lists for everything.
  4. Learn something: I always feel better if I feel like I am developing. So google a topic you’re interested about, or read a wiki page about a historical event. It’s a good way to feel productive without having to put in much effort.
  5. Go on a walk: When my counselor used to tell me to go on walks when I got angry I used to think “yea right that doesn’t help.” It does. It really really does. In fact it’s the only anger management technique that has ever worked for me. I’m sure other exercise is helpful to, but walking is very steady which is why I like it.
  6. Buy new underwear/socks/dishes: If something you own is getting old THEN REPLACE IT GODDAMNIT. It will make your life feel more put together and if it’s something you need then don’t put it off.
  7. Hit your pillows not your car: If you need to hit something that’s fine, but do yourself a favor and make it something soft. I can tell you from personal experience, if you punch start a fist fight with a car, you will lose.
  8. Go to the movies alone: It’s a little weird to sit alone in the dark, and stare at a wall for two hours while shoving food in your face—But not in a movie theater it’s not!
  9. Make a meal: Sometimes being a housewife makes you feel like you have your life together. Also eating food is good for you.
  10. Go to bed early: Sleep is seriously important. Get enough sleep.

In Crisis

Personal, Writing

When I went to the hospital, back in March, they kept referring to the situation, as me being in crisis.

When I think of the word crisis, I think of things like, earthquakes, wars, economic crisis, and the like. I don’t really think of myself.

There are three definitions listed online for the word crisis:

cri·sis
ˈkrīsis/
noun
  •  a time of intense difficulty, trouble, or danger.
  • a time when a difficult or important decision must be made.
  • the turning point of a disease when an important change takes place, indicating either recovery or death.

In the hospital I was fitting into all three of these definitions. To them, I was a crisis. I was a copy and paste, human form of the word.

This is how things were phrased to me.

“Take these pills whenever you are in crisis,” Who do you reach out for during crisis?” “What are signs you may become in crisis?” “Have you experienced similar crisis?”

I get why they use that word. Crisis is a word that suggests I was not in control of it. Crisis suggests that it will end.

Calling it a crisis makes it all seem very temporary, even though you will be experiencing the aftershocks for months. Much like a weather crisis, there is piles of debris that need to be picked up and bridges within yourself that need to be repaired, and they better get fixed before another crisis hits.

The third definition; “the turning point of a disease when an important change takes place, indicating either recovery or death,” seems harsh. For many diseases it is live or die, but for my disease it is living or settling with the fact that it’s not going away. Life as a permanent, minor, crisis.

The day I left they made me fill out a paper called a “safety plan” for when I had another crisis. Looking at this paper, none of this would ever help me in an earthquake, or in a war.