A Full Sink and Empty Promises
Depression is
a sly opportunist. She usually shows up when I’m in pain, fatigued, and
vulnerable. When I’m feeling this way, activities of daily living seem
impossible. Depression recognizes this and is eager to offer her assistance. She
knows one of the last things I want to do at the end of the day is tackle a sink
full of dishes. She’ll softly whisper in my ear, “No worries, we’ll get this in
the morning.”
Morning will
come and a trashed kitchen is one of the first things I see. Looking at it
weighs me down as if I’m wrapped in a wet blanket. I let out a sigh of
exasperation, grab a cup of coffee and head back upstairs; Depression reassures
me, “It’s OK, we’ll get to it later; we have all day!"
All of the
sudden it’s 5:00 pm. My husband is home from work and the kitchen looks the
same as when he left in the morning. I cringe when he asks, “What’s our plan for
dinner?”
Self-Care(less)
A few months ago, I started noticing other pieces of my
life with the “I’ll get to it later” label, glamorous activities such as
filling my pill case, flossing, and changing the sheets. Depression
had tricked me into task avoidance under the guise of “self-care”; “You need rest,
that’s all, and in a few days you’ll be fine.” If only that were true; Depression
has no concept of time.
While
Depression and I were “taking it easy”, the mess in the kitchen grew until
every dish and pot I own was either in the sink or piled up on the counter. My
pill case became a big question mark. God only knows the last time I flossed! I
knew I couldn’t continue like this but Depression had a way of convincing me
she knew best. Her “do nothing” attitude was so seductive and I went along with
her antics, until I was so suppressed, so overwhelmed, I was paralyzed. This is
when Depression almost won. She was content and I was the perfect host.
“You’ve got to do it, every little
bit.” -Fred Rogers
It only takes 15 minutes to unload the dishwasher;
it takes less than 5 minutes to fill my pill case. “What the hell was wrong
with me that I couldn’t find the time to get these done!?” “Why couldn’t these
simple tasks be seen as self-care?” Depression had no answers. She was happy to
lay around, oblivious to the shit storm swirling around her, watching soaps
whilst eating cake. Then it hit me, Depression
thrives on inactivity. I knew what I
had to do and I knew where to start.
I made a
deal with myself (and my therapist) that I wouldn’t retire for the evening
until my kitchen was clean. And that’s what I’ve been doing, every night. It
was hard work at first but soon it became habit. My clean kitchen has inspired
me to take charge of other areas of my life as well. Pill case is full every Sunday
afternoon and sheets are fresh! Flossing is still a work in progress (no one’s
perfect.)
Depression eventually
got the message I would no longer be available and little by little she crept back
into the shadows. It is possible she’ll come back and that’s OK. My awareness
of her presence has improved and I know her desires. The best part is, I have
gained a better understanding of myself and what I need to be satisfied; I
guess I can thank her for that.
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Seeing a
pristine kitchen first thing sets a positive tone for the day!
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