(Seen on FB)
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)
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.
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$, also in pioneer square, thus completing the cycle of Weird Guy Who Will Sell You A Suspiciously Cheap Sword. keeping portland weird is a sacred duty to all who partake.
anyway, if you’re scared of shit, please buy a very big blade, i can’t recommend it highly enough. walmart sells machetes in the camping aisle for like 10$.
