Early May 2024 Mental Health Update
Trigger Warning: Mental Health Update
In this blog post, I will let myself unmask and speak about my mental health freely. If you are not in a place where you have the space to read about some heavy topics, please skip this one or come back at a later time. I will not be offended; you and I are still good. I love you. Be well.
Today I let the water in my shower get cold.
For as long as I can remember, my showers would be as hot as the water could get. My skin would turn red and I’d often finish my showers lightheaded.
It used to be this quirky thing that I did. Then it became a joke- I liked my water hot because I was practicing burning in hell. Then, after I discovered that I was autistic, I gave it a name- sensory seeking and stimulation. But today, I learned its true name: self-harm. My body was enduring the physical pain so my brain could rest.
Today I made the decision to turn down the hot water and let myself breathe easier, without having to fight the steam in the air.
I shaved my armpits and my legs. I used shaving cream, too. I didn’t cut corners when taking care of myself, because I prioritized myself at that moment without thinking about whether someone else needed me to do something for them. If my kids wanted or needed something, their dad was in the building to do it for them. I let the water pour onto me and into me. I chose me.
What was different about today than other days? Before getting into the shower, I had a bad day, another in a countless amount of bad days. Yet yesterday, I had a breakthrough about a form of self-expression that really benefitted me. I use the voice-to-text feature of Google Docs transcribe as I spoke the story of my life out loud. I allowed myself to tell my own story the way that I saw it, free from other’s input or gaslighting of how they think it should be told.
When my mood got low today, instead of letting myself spiral into a deep hole I wouldn’t be able to dig myself out of, I spent hours drawing this image.
Image text: The same boiling water that softens the potato, hardens the egg. What’s motivating to you may be crippling to others.
Image description: A boiling pot of water on a hot stove burner in a kitchen.
This was inspired a post on Tumblr that I’ve had saved on my phone for God knows how long. I felt drawn to it and would turn back to it occasionally, more than the thousands of screenshots I take and never look at again. My Google drive is a 188.52 GB mess.
You may be thinking, there’s no way that took hours to make, but it did. Why did it take me so long? Because of a combination of perfectionism and aphantasia. I’m terrible at drawing, but I’ve discovered that I really like digital art. I can easily erase mistakes without seeing the indent of where a line once was on the piece of paper or need to figure out how to work around paint in a place where I didn’t want it to be. I can accept my artistic skills where they are, knowing that I’m not where I want to be due to a lack of experience, not a lack of talent or creativity. I don’t have shame for not being on the same level as people whose skills I admire.
Even yesterday, while I was telling my 10-year-old daughter the reasons why I firmly believe that Taylor Swift is the most powerful witch in the United States, I said that words are spells. The phrase, “words have power,” being the mundane equivalent, having my words fall on deaf ears or ignored repeatedly and unapologetically made me feel small and weak.
I became used to begging to be told that I’m enough- to my mom, ex-boyfriends, and husband.
I wasn’t skinny enough.
I wasn’t organized enough.
I wasn’t alternative-looking enough.
My boobs weren’t big enough.
I wasn’t earning enough.
I wasn’t submissive enough.
I wasn’t enough.
I sought validation from people who told me that they loved me with their words but showed me through their actions that their love was conditional, transactional at times. I played a role in the lives of these people, and it was never one that I agreed to or wanted.
I want to say that I’ve experienced unconditional love from my aunt, from my kids, and from my dog, but my brain is a little too hurt right now where it wants to look for reasons why that isn’t true.
In the past when I tried to speak up and advocate for my emotions and set boundaries, my needs weren’t met. The subsequent betrayal trauma and sometimes physical abuse which followed me asking for kindess and respect developed into c-PTSD, anxiety, and depression. Social isolation and hyper-independence consumed me.
For a long time, I have felt hard like the boiled egg, but I feel like I might be far enough into my year-long healing journey where I am now choosing for myself to be soft like the potato. I’m learning healthy coping mechanisms, setting boundaries, figuring out my worth and choosing myself. The walls I’ve built after years of mistreatment are falling down. I plan to plant a beautiful garden in its place.
I can start to feel myself getting burnt out from the energy being used to write this, so I’m going to bounce while I still feel affectionate towards this writing. So long and thanks for all the fish.
Music Recommendation: So Long, London by Taylor Swift
