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Benefits of Airing Dirty Laundry

Photo by Miquel Lleixà Mora [NotPRO] on Foter.com / CC BY-NC-SAPutting the most shameful aspects of your family and home out in the streets—commonly referred to as “airing dirty laundry”—is a very taboo thing to do. I’ve had conversations with friends who whisper when they share unpleasant truths about their loved ones, about crimes that were committed against them or their families, or about…

In couples therapy a few months ago, the husb and I developed a maintenance list of sorts. If we mind the list, we’re in solid shape, without question. It’s like a blueprint for our foundation. When one thing is off, we’re off.

I’m learning that I have my own list to mind if our shared list is to be met. I have a baseline for supplements. Right now, it’s adrenal complex (3x), wild yam (3x), zinc (30mg; off and on), omega 3/CLO 950 (1-3x), vitamin D (5k), progesterone cream, collagen, magnesium citrate, B12 (off and on). 

I have a baseline for exercise. I must exercise 2-4x a week or I’m a moody mess. Ideally, my body wants 9 hours of sleep. Since I’ve realized this, I land on average around 7.5-8.5 hours of sleep; less on nights before fitness.

This is my stuff that has to happen in order for us to work. These things need to happen before I even attempt to manage the responsibilities we share. I’m sure there are other items on my personal checklist, but these are the non-negotiables. 

“You’re powerless over other people’s lives. You can impact them but you can’t change them.”

I heard this advice while watching The Real Housewives over the weekend. And it’s so true. A lot of people are mistaken in believing they can change people. We only have the power to influence others by our actions. 

Force doesn’t work. I tried with with the husb when I realized, five years ago, that I was transforming my health by balancing my hormones with whole food supplements. I wanted him to experience the same health transformation. I went about it the wrong way. Completely. 

I pushed my solutions and he pushed back by calling me evangelical. My strategy wasn’t working. 

Then I decided to release my obsession with wanting him to follow a similar path. I began to focus more on what I needed each day, while loving him in a different way. 

Just yesterday, we stopped by my pharmacy and he took the lead in asking about an alternative to a prescribed hormone pharmaceutical he received. The alternative (natural) pharmacists provided a holistic and non-pharmaceutical supplement from a trusted and local provider. 

I was beaming from the inside and just so happy to see that not only does he trust these alternative healers, my anti-pharmacists, but he also trusts me to guide him in a direction that will empower him to heal himself. I've wanted this for five years. I’ve wanted this for him forever. 

I’m in group therapy that’s focused on how our actions and environment affect our mood. It’s been helpful in many ways, but most recently in helping me highlight and practice self compassion. 

I was raised Catholic and grew up in a pretty violent household. I was more familiar with beating myself up than I was loving everything that I am. One of the immediate triggers for anger and shame has happened when I lose something. 

Growing up, my grandmother would scold me for losing things. And one day, I found something I “lost” in her purse. She hid it from me and punished me for losing it. Even with this reality that I’m not always the culprit and also, things resurface, I still beat myself up over it. 

But recently, I lost my wallet. I didn’t have it for two days. And there was no anxiety in my belly. No harsh words in my head. Nothing. Just calm. I felt as though it would turn up; and if not, I’d cancel the cards and manage. 

This is new. And I like it. 

A little over a year ago, I made the decision to return to full-time office work. It would be the foundation for building the next chapter of my life.

 It simplified the process of refinancing the renovation of my new home. It’s also provided the stability my husband has longed for since we started dating. And not only that; I’ve been able to get settled into one place with one set of rules, or the absence of them. I’ve been able to adjust to one culture as opposed to navigating multiple cultures daily. 

This has allowed me to refine my routine, within the constraints of a 9-to-5. This would have seemed like a drag to me over a year ago, but it’s been nice to reject invitations for socializing or freelance work with ease. The constraints have further tested and clarified my priorities for budgeting my time and energy. 

I’ve been able to setup my work space in a way that supports me. I have the physical tools to do the work I get paid to do. And I’m able to leave this work at the office at the end of the day, allowing me to manage my marriage and home as well as my own self-care needs. 

My self-care has become routine in the most magnificent way. My diet is in order thanks to the support and effort of my husband. I take my supplements with each meal. I have health practitioners on a rotation on my calendar as well as hair removal, brow maintenance, hair appointments and dry needling. 

I have fitness scheduled 3-4x a week; completely manageable even with sharing a car with the husb. I have a hydration station on my desk at work and on my dresser at home to ensure I consume close to 96 oz a day. I have quality time scheduled with the husband and we have a list of non-negotiables we must maintain to keep our union strong. 

Last year, I made a plan for what I wanted in a full-time work assignment. I secured exactly what I wanted in October. Last summer, I developed a routine that would make the most sense for me to sustain. In the winter, I refined this routine while in Bali with the husband. A year later, and this plan is working its magic on my life. 

I have maintained a happy home for three months, with more seamless communication with the husb—even when disagreements arise. My work is being questioned less during the day, reflecting increased trust in my capabilities. I’m three months out from moving into my new home. My skin is looking better than it ever has. My mood gets more mellow each month.

One thing I now know clearly is trauma disconnects us from our bodies. Anything having to do with calming or soothing myself has been the farthest thing from my mind for most of my life and the most emotional thing to break through.  I’ve noticed this week that I’ve been randomly rubbing my belly; sometimes when I’m brushing my teeth. This is something I used to do for my husband 16 years ago. It’s something he requested and I thought it was sweet.

I never thought to do it for myself. And it is calming! I believe prioritizing adding a skin moisturizing ritual to my week’s schedule has helped. This started in late June and I feel like the slow and steady practice has been instrumental in retraining my brain on what a comfortable touch feels like. 

It’s pretty incredible, the transformation. I’ve gone from a laundry list of self-harming techniques I once thought I needed to cope to establishing healthier ways to self-soothe. 

My husband has never been one to celebrate successes, small or big. He’s been known to move on from one accomplishment to the next with short breaths in between. But something has shifted. This morning, when I was sharing my weekend routine details with him, he paused and asked, “You do realize this is a breakthrough for you, right? To be working on overcoming your fear of public speaking and of writing your story and sharing it publicly, all at the same time.” 

Funny thing is, I haven’t stopped to acknowledge it. Me. The person who was excited to read one book in a year and wanted a parade for going to the gym once in a blue moon.

Right now, I'm in the middle of a chemical peel, a home rebuild and healing a cold sore. I'm experiencing how much of a mess transition can be.

Tuesday of last week, I signed up for a speaking role at my Toastmasters club. It was a smaller role as speech evaluator but it was a big deal for me. After taking months off from speaking publicly, I wanted to come back strong and nail my first time as evaluator. While I was a little nervous, I thought for sure I was more excited about the new experience. Well a day later, I got a cold sore. This is a common symptom of stress in my body. So here we are a week later, and I'm still waiting patiently for it to leave my face.

Last Thursday, I went to my aesthetician for a chemical peel. Welp, you can't have micro needling and a tier two peel with a cold sore. After waiting months for this treatment, I was devastated to say the least. I really wanted a new face. After battling with dermatillomania for a little over two decades, I did incredibly well not to attack my skin leading up to this treatment. Although it's a worthwhile effort at all times, it's even more critical leading up to a peel. And here I was, unable to make the full magic happen. She offered me a tier one Vitamin A peel to appease me. It did make me feel less awful. Now I sit at my desk with a bandage over my healing cold sore and sunscreen failing to fade into my peeling face.  

And I'm (hopefully) 2.5 months away from moving into my new house. The husb and I walked the property yesterday and, although there was order, there was a lot of chaos. The trash collection moved from the street to the side of the house. It's a tiny lot so space for all the things is limited. Our siding is in and neatly stacked. Shiplap is in two messy stacks in front of and behind the house. A mess. But an exciting mess.

The more organized I get, the more I’m empowered to show up, be present and not absent minded when I am in the presence of others. When I’m alone, I have the space to think of friends. This prompts me to send messages to let them know they’re on my mind. This is a luxury of silence, of space, of organization. 

Every day I see people glued to their mobile screens, walking aimlessly with the hope, I’m sure, of not running into anything. This is no way to live. What did we do before we all had mobile phones? What did we see? Who did we meet? 

When I see people glued to their screens, it’s difficult not to think of all the missed opportunities and the danger of being so disconnected from the present. It appears to be the absence of freedom and the fertile soil of obsession.