Therapists are just…. Common sense filters
Me: yeah so I just don’t have the energy to get up and make myself a sandwich or wait for something to cook so I just. Don’t
Her: why don’t you just eat the sandwich components without putting them together
Me:
Her: you can just eat a handful of cheese and some sandwich meat. You don’t have to make a sandwich.
Me:
Me: what
Therapists finding loopholes for mental illness things is one of my favorite things about dealing with mental illness because it really helps me understand that just because a reaction is Common doesn’t mean it’s Right. Does doing dishes stress you out a lot? Buy paper plates. Do your obsessive thoughts make you worry about leaving your curling iron on so you drive home from work to check? Just put the curling iron in your purse and bring it to work with you while we work on tackling where this worry comes from. Symptom management doesn’t have to look like drudgery.
i used to go days without showering because seeing my body was so upsetting that i would end up spiraling and then i realized i could simply turn the lights out. it took some getting used to but i’ve been showering with the lights off for years and it’s now one of my favorite parts of my day.
do whatever you want nothing is real and there’s no need to inflict unnecessary suffering on yourself just to try to seem “normal”
I love this post
Hmmm
These kinds of loopholes make life so. Much. Better.
One of my favorite stories is this lady had extremely bad OCD. Every day she’d be late to work because she was convinced that her hair dryer was going to burn down the house so would always have to turn around and check it. Multiple times a day even. A bunch of doctors tied to “fix” her of that fear, until one day she got a doctor that suggested she bring the hair dryer with her. Other doctors were annoyed, saying that wasn’t a the correct way to help, but she gave it a go. When she had that fear, she’d look over and see the hair dryer unplugged in the seat next to her and was able to carry on. I think it’s such a perfect example of actually helping someone instead of forcing them into a neurotypical standard.
Tag: i’m not crying you’re crying
remember me, love, when i’m reborn
as the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn (x)
me to the demon in the corner of my room: ain’t u got shit to do
He’d been lurking about for days now, this shadow thing. It used to scare me, terrify me straight into insomnia. But it had just stood there the whole time. Now it seemed part of the furniture, if I’m being honest.
I started talking to it. Probably not my best idea, I’ll give you that, but it’s not like I had anyone else around. I would tell it about my day as I readied for bed. Jeff was a dick at the meeting this morning. Had the best hot dog off the best cart in the city for lunch. SIX reports due by Friday? Kellen must be trying to kill me. I even wished it good night. And it just stared, with its glowing red eyes.
One night, I had to stay late at the office. Really late. Remember those six reports? They turned into fifteen. And if I didn’t get them done for this major client, it was my head on the HR guillotine. So I stayed late. I ended up crashing on the sofa in the break room and woke up to more work on my desk. That was Thursday morning. I had to get this all done by Monday.
On Friday night, around ten, I decided to go home and get some real sleep before going back to the office to finish this insane task. And then I felt it. Something was here with me and it wasn’t the janitor.
I looked in the corner and there were those eyes again, surrounded by shadow. I sighed. I really didn’t have time for this, not here.
“Ain’t you got shit to do?” I snapped, walking to the break room for yet more coffee. So much for going home to sleep.
A growling sound, then a deep, rasping voice said, “I miss you.”
I stopped. “What do you mean, you miss me? Aren’t you a demon or something?”
“You didn’t come home. I’ve been worried. What are you doing here?”
We’d never conversed like this. It was almost comforting, like a friend would be.
“I’m working, man. I’ve got a big client coming on Monday and Kellen put all these damn reports on my desk and if I don’t get them done, I’m probably gonna get fired.” I ranted as I took off my tie and ran my fingers through my hair.
The demon paused, thinking. It moved slowly around the room, taking it all in.
“Do you want me to eat Kellen?” it suddenly asked.
I laughed, “No, don’t eat Kellen. It’s not really his fault.”
“Then what shall I do?”
I sighed and considered. What could a shadow demon do to help me?
“Do you know anything about graphic design and marketing?”
It paused its roaming. “I ate an artist’s soul, once.”
“Good enough. Just sit behind me and tell me what looks good.”
On Monday morning, the company landed the client, I got a raise, and arranged it so I could work from home two days a week. We moved to a bigger flat two months later. It makes cinnamon pancakes on Saturdays.
I love this honestly
“I ate an artist’s soul, once.”
“Good enough.”
Rebellions are built on hope 