shower floor sanctuary
I would be lying if I said I haven’t spent four hours in the last two days sitting on the floor of my shower. It’s mildly embarrassing as it is probably the most stereotypical sad girl thing to do, and I pride myself on being DiFFerEnT, but for some reason it feels good.
In case you couldn't tell, I’m going through a low spot with my depression.
Everything has been making me sad. I wake up every morning dreading the day. I set my alarm for an hour earlier than I need to be up so I can let myself ignore it; the only reason I end up getting out of bed is because I promise myself I can sleep again as soon as my responsibilities are over. I haven’t called my family as frequently because they can often hear my sadness and I don’t even know what to talk about. I dread my weekly appointments because the last thing I want to do is talk for an hour when I could be doing something to avoid reality.
I’ve started to notice that I avoid reality a lot. The amount of symptom swapping I do is pretty impressive. I chase the feeling of escaping from myself.
For those of you who don’t know, symptom swapping (in my life, in terms of my disorder) is when I move from primarily using restriction as a coping mechanisms to using other less than favorable behaviors. I’ve struggled with nicotine addiction, overusing alcohol, purging, self-harm… It’s like no matter what I do, it can’t be healthy. The problem is not at all that I don’t know any healthy coping mechanisms, I mean I could literally recite the DBT handbook word for word, it’s just that they don’t give me the high or the escape I crave.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this. Mainly because I know that none of these things are healthy or appropriate ways to deal with my feelings but it’s been interesting to think about why I need them. I think it probably goes without saying that alcohol is the most effective way to get away from myself and my feelings. Being drunk makes the bad things less important. But ironically, being drunk becomes the safest place for me explore those feelings. It’s where I can understand my sadness the most. The typical judgement I have towards myself seems to get lost when I drink. It’s like I do my best thinking then. I know that doesn’t make sense but I’d also be lying if I said that I didn’t have at least two glasses of wine in me when I write most of my blogs.
It’s like the wall of self- doubt falls when I start to feel tipsy. I’m not overwhelmed by the degree I’m pursuing or the future I have to figure out, I’m not hurt by the man who can’t decide if he wants me or not, I don’t remember the friend who made feel unworthy. I can sit with myself for a minute and understand her; I can honor the stress, honor the pain from unreciprocated love, honor loss.
Self-harm and eating disorder behaviors serve as the self-punishment. They don’t let me escape from myself but they let me hurt the way I tell myself I deserve. They’re the things that I tell myself will make me better in the long run but we’ve seen how that turns out.
I’ve been talking about these things with my treatment team and the truth is, I don’t know what to do with them. It’s sometimes more annoying to have awareness about the destruction I’m doing to myself physically and mentally but honestly, it’s a start. I’m finding that a lot of my life and a lot of growth happens through slow painful change instead of spurts of change from sudden epiphanies.
