I call it a dump.

My mum calls it getting tired.

It’s when the worst is inevitable. It’s when I’m my worst self and I judge myself ALL THE TIME. It’s calling myself the names, the heavy face muscles, eyes leaking tears. It’s finding human connection akin to a grater on skin. It’s deep loneliness. It’s irritating. It’s impatient and raw and wrong. It’s excited exhaustion. It’s grey and limp and pointless. It’s a desperate search for a way out. It’s so boring. It’s stupid and futile. It impacts people I live with, people I love and who love me. It’s being awake past 4am and sleeping into the afternoon. It’s stagnation and frustration and it SUCKS.

And sometimes, recovery looks like staying up until 3am, watching episodes of BBC Escape to the Country, and eating strawberry shortcake with whipped cream.

Sometimes it’s a mix.

I’m doing the work. 

Accept, forgive, relax, reaffirm, THEN act.

If I act out of misery I’m extendo-mixing my misery.

If I act out of kindness it’s a much shorter road back to myself.

I demure, I laugh them off, I dismiss them. I’m embarrassed for me and for the giver. Because they are either delusional or lying.

I’m able to pretend to accept them if I make it about the giver – you know, not calling them insane, or hurting their feelings with rejection, and definitely not wanting to be rude to them.

I have friends who are really good at receiving compliments. And it’s fun to compliment them – they light up like a Christmas tree. It’s easy to compliment them because they are wonderful, and I get so much joy from their reaction.

I don’t see anything special about me and my skills. My assumption is that everyone is competent like me, knows what I know, is generous and a helper, like me. So whatever act of service I do is just normal, no big deal, certainly not deserving of any notice.

Also, in my self image, I feel like Shrek.  I struggle to get to body neutrality and can’t imagine anyone finding me attractive. I don’t enjoy pictures or my reflection. I feel resigned to a solitary life. So compliments on my appearance are out of whack with my beliefs, they feel jarring and wrong. 

I’m better when it comes to my brain and my heart. I’m quietly proud of myself in these areas, in that I have learned a whole lot and consequently changed a whole lot, for the better. I mostly like my brain and heart, and I work on accepting my sharp edges and unfinished bits.

And yeah, I’m aware that I’m not seeing myself the way others see me. I’m aware that I don’t trust anyone with my vulnerability around my busted self image. I’m aware that I’m denying myself some kindness and new perspectives. I’m aware that even while I’m dismissing the compliments I desperately want them to be true.

I’m examining great big fissures in my psyche. Because I really want to be compliment-able. I want to believe compliments when they are gifted to me. And to get there, I gotta look at the programming that created dysfunctional beliefs. The ones that say I must be resigned to a solitary life, that say I’m nothing special. That say I’m like Shrek. And then start practicing some new thoughts, intentional thoughts. Until they’re the habit. Until they are second nature.

A person I love deeply had an emotional reaction to me, at me, today.

To me, it came out of nowhere. I was doing my own thing and didn’t clock what was happening with them.

The first clue I had was an ask for privacy when I came to join them. I take that kind of request seriously, and honoured it immediately and with no questions.

It’s summertime and our windows are open. I heard them speaking to someone about being upset and I heard my name.

In this house we actively don’t listen in certain circumstances, in order to preserve a sense of privacy, autonomy, and to feel safe to express ourselves uncensored.

So I didn’t listen, and I understood that I had caused them distress. I did stuff in my room until the conversation outside was over and there was some breathing room. And then I went outside and asked if I had caused distress. And I listened, and acknowledged, and tried to be in their shoes. I apologized and I let it sit.

After a short time, I asked them for specific help in the future, so that I wouldn’t repeat the thing that caused them distress.

That was a trigger for them. They received my ask as criticism. They had a huge big emotional explosion. They said some terrible things. There was a lot of “everything/always/nothing/never” language. Then they stormed away.

I felt awful, stunned, guilty but confused. Shamed. I felt like I had been pummelled.

I decided to leave – I have a car and thought up some errands. I left as fast as I could.

After my first errand, sitting in my car in a parking lot, I texted a good friend. I told them what happened and what I was doing. They invited me to call and I did.

I sat in my car outside some store and I talked, and ugly cried, and snotted. My eyes got really puffy. I said unreasonable things and I gave zero fucks about the curious passers-by that bore temporary witness to my big reaction and release.

And eventually my reason came back and I started to feel calmer and more like myself. It took a minute or twenty, and it did settle. I got some clarity after I got some comfort and permission to say the terrible things. Then I thanked my friend and ran my other errand.

When I got back to the house, the person I left in great distress called out cheerfully that they were over it. It didn’t feel good to me. It felt gross. It felt like the twilight zone. I decided to stay away. I didn’t want to cause more upset, and wasn’t ready to talk with them about what had happened.

I didn’t eat dinner with them – instead I had a shower and stayed in my room. Eventually they knocked on my door. They apologized, and admitted that they had said the opposite of what’s true when it comes to my behaviour. I said that I believed them and thanked them for the apology, and that I wasn’t ready for the conversation.

I really wasn’t ready. I was tearful and rigid. I felt unsafe, like I wouldn’t be able to speak with clarity and empathy. I didn’t trust that they would be able to hear me. It felt like it would do more damage to both of us.

They respected my wishes, and I continued to stay away, as much as I could while sharing a home. 

I felt so raw. This went down the day before I was leaving for a 10 day trip. And I was so upset that I couldn’t sleep until late late late. I was chewing the grist of the painful stuff – the things that were said…you can’t unring a bell, you know? They said things that attacked the core of who I am, who I try hard to be. It was so hurtful. And I saw patterns in this conflict that echo back decades, patterns that damaged me. Fractures that I continue to spend a lot of time healing.

We spoke the next morning before I left. We both made good effort to be good communicators. We talked about the fallout. We agreed that the relationship would absolutely survive this conflict. We agreed to take the time apart to process what the other had said. We each committed to seeking help from outside the relationship. 

This is a longer process. The apology is the start, but isn’t the fix. And in the meantime, there’s still living in the same house, the ordinary interactions, the day to day relationship. We’ve had one conversation since I’ve been back, because I returned feeling guarded, and it was noticed. I have also hired someone who specializes in this specific type of relationship, to help me do things differently. And just the commitment to working with this person has changed how I am in the house. My brain is pointed towards change, so I’m already changing. 

Instead of putting down my phone, having a shower, putting on fresh jammies, watching a movie in my queue, patting my kitties and going to bed.

Instead, I kept touching my phone. Instead, I half-watched reno show repeats. Instead, I wasted my time, didn’t shower, and put on already-worn jammies. Instead, I went to bed very late.

When I finally woke up, I got my coffee, had french toast, chatted with my sister, and sat outside. Once I was really awake, I got in the shower and then got dressed. I did my laundry, helped cook dinner, sold an antique desk, talked with friends on the phone and cleaned up the kitchen.

The whole time I kept moving towards kindness, comfort, acceptance of my energy and ability, and acted in the mindset of recovery.

I stayed away from thoughts that I had failed myself. Because I hadn’t, I wasn’t. When I got tired I rested, When I was thirsty I drank, when I was hungry I ate. I refused to punish myself for a delay in accomplishing my recovery plan. Did it take longer than I expected when I made the plan? Yes. Did I do it? Also yes.