I Haven’t Washed my Hair in 10 Days (and other fun depression confessions)

She had watched as her sisters paired off with their soulmates seemingly seamlessly, and while she felt absolute joy for them at their couplings, she always felt a twinge of jealousy. She had resigned after all these years of walking this earth that it wasn’t for her. Who would want a terrifying witch who spent more time in other worlds than tethered to this plane? When she was scribing, she kept her hair piled on top of her head stuck through with spare quills looking much like a haphazard nest with feathers poking out at all angles. Karai and Lucy wore their hair in purposefully cultivated and well maintained dreadlocks whereas Sera’s hair was a tangled mess on a good day. She would sometimes forgetting to eat or bathe for days at a time, ink stained face and fingers, hunched over her work a twisted mess of creaking bones, conversing with voices in her head. She had tattooed the most important sigils and messages from the ether onto her skin until her arms and legs were covered in glyphs and symbols. She had never considered herself beautiful like her sisters and now she knew she looked a mess. Most of the time she felt that way too. But it was part of who she was. The others had learned to live with her, gently suggesting an afternoon of swimming when she got too ripe or too lost in her work. They had been making almost daily pilgrimages to the river since his arrival, enjoying the last days of the warm season. and Sera had made a point of joining them more often than usual.

Lately Lucy had taken to lovingly brushing her freshly washed hair and plaiting it into ornate braids instead of the messy bun she usually wore while they held palaver by the fire at night. Sera enjoyed the physical contact, realized she was quite starved for it, and found it both relaxing and distracting. She had been rather surprised at how long her hair had gotten, falling well past her waist when it was free of tangles and buns. Mikah was a little less subtle, thumping a basket of freshly washed clothes down next to her at the harvest table earlier this morning. “You ought to burn those rags you are wearing; they stink and so do you. Your precious chatty daemons can wait.”

Sera realized she did feel a level of unfamiliar shame at her appearance, it wasn’t vanity so much as an unfamiliar desire to be desirable.

As much as she rationalized what couldn’t be, she realized she had never been so drawn to a man as she was this one.

The above is a chapter of the new book I am working on. Unedited, bear with me here. It’s a process and I was never taught how to do this so I just do it my way.

450 words out of 52 000 as of this afternoon.

Don’t worry, the whole book is not about a witch describing her particular brand of stank.

But this post is.

I am writing this for the sole reason that a 10 minute conversation with someone in the same boat actually made me feel better, and then she felt better from making me feel better. Then we both showered.

My faithful readers will recall that my last period was intense and insanely painful. Wait, did I write even about it? Cliff’s Notes…5 days of crippling pain on top of my usually crippling pain. I couldn’t move. Day one and two I laid in bed and cried while trying to remember my Lamaze breathing from 25 years ago. Day 3 to 5 I laid on the couch doped up on naproxen which did not even take the edge off really, but made my belly roil and roll.

If I could just do the yoga I wouldn’t hurt so much, but I hurt too much to do the yoga that makes it hurt less. My life is series of conundrums these days.

Now usually these ‘motherfuckers’, as I have dubbed the really bad ones, only last 2 days. Nay nay sayeth my uterus, buy 2 get 3 free.

But I don’t even want the first 2.

It isn’t every month. Just 3 to 6 outta 12. Once upon a time I had a Scorpio boyfriend who took a steroid called ‘tren’ and he loved period sex, so I got a “6 months free, no pain” coupon during my relationship with him. Gives a literal and whole new meaning to that song by Peaches, “fuck the pain away”. I think part of me stayed with him an extra month or two just for that reason. Quantity over quality but the side effects were awesome.

So, for 5 days out of the last 20+ I had an excuse for my sloth.

Not now.

Shitty thing is, I never got back to the usual 65-70% health I’ve been functioning at the other 20 some odd days of the month. I never got above a low energy,/high pain, 40 to 50% functioning capacity. And my brain just kinda shut down in a weird dissociative way. I know I had a couple of panic attacks since I have been here but that feels like a story someone told me.

Long story short, I am not doing great.

I opened a drawer this morning and found a back up bottle of the vitamins I have been neglecting to take and in an act of self preservation, I took some.

High dose vitamin D3, game changer. 10000 IU.

I am willing to admit this might be slightly psychosomatic, but I actually feel better.

Add to that the fact that I actually slept kinda okay last night.

The internet went down, down, down around 8:30 which put me in bed by 9, instead of stumbling to bed from the couch at midnight then not being able to sleep for a few hours between my back screaming and just thinking my thoughts while Jake and Amy do their thing on the tv in my room.

Guys…

I have been in the Bell Jar and I have been in denial about it.

The thing I haven’t been in… is the shower.

This is actually hard to write. Or even say out loud.

Its embarrassing.

I am so fucking weird, I love being in the shower, I hate getting in the shower.

The best I have been able to do since I left my last place is Mondays and Fridays, but really Mondays or Fridays not often both. But when the hot water wasn’t working on Monday, the half splash I managed to do was not great, and Friday I was late for my ride to run errands so my filthy hair went up in a bun and I hoped no one would notice, if they did, they didn’t say anything.

So, my hair remained unwashed and unbrushed for 10 days, maybe more. I lost count.

I would like to say its the pandemic making me this way, but it ain’t. And the period pain excuse expired 3 weeks ago.

Yes, when I am stripping, I shower and shave before and usually after every shift, yes when I am dating someone I don’t show up in my ‘I have given up on life sweats’ with 4 days worth of stubble on my legs. But I need that outside influence, and it sucks.

Why can’t I just basic human like other humans?

I get depressed and I cannot summon the strength or willpower to shower.

Its gross, I am gross. I know it.

Then it turns into a shame spiral and it gets worse.

Between the vitamins and a couple of friends on the internet, I am writing this in a decontaminated state. It feels good. I am already pre-scared that it will be another 5 or 10 days until I get motivated again, but we will cross that stanky bridge when we get to it.

Happens every time. Prolonged funk followed by a bout of euphoria where I think “I am never doing THAT again”. Then I do that again. Don’t lather, don’t rinse, just repeat.

I think the greatest trick my depression ever pulled was convincing me it didn’t exist.

I am just lazy, I am just broken, I am just gross.

But I remember NOT being that way.

8 weeks ago I was in my clean cozy apartment, up early every morning, writing for a couple hours, then showering and functioning like and adultier adult while waiting for my afternoon delight. My pain levels were so much lower, but still.

I wonder if it like this for all of us.

And there are a lot of us.

Back when I still could post shit to my Facebook page, I posted another woman’s meme’d confession about not showering for an extended period of time. There were 500+ comments saying ‘me too’ and little helpful hints to survive these bouts of yuck. I remember feeling better and less alone. The internet is full of handy, gentle tips about baby powder and baby wipes and ‘maybe just change your clothes’ or ‘wash one dish’ type advice for being depressed.

Today it was a conversation with another friend where we compared notes. Talking to her pushed me into the shower and prompted her to have a bath.

Maybe in past lives we lived during the Victorian era where they thought baths made you sick.

Maybe we just can’t even, and sometimes we can.

The second one sounds right.

Good Karen has a medical background. I was talking to her yesterday at the apex of feeling shitty about myself. She said she knew I wasn’t okay, that it was coming through in my writing. Maybe it is. I just start typing and the words come out.

She went through the medical reasons why I feel like shit, and it helped a bit.

It has been such a slow decent into this state I forget what healthy feels like.

She made enough sense that it got through to me

Honey…what exactly is wrong with you taking this extended break?

I almost felt like she reached through messenger and slapped me lightly on the cheek.

I don’t have an answer for that. Still don’t.

Nothing that doesn’t sound self deprecating or anything I would feel comfortable telling anyone who is feeling like this.

Humans are supposed to be busy, doesn’t really feel like a good reason.

I advocate for acceptance of self and resting and self care all day long.

Maybe I do just need to rest, maybe there is nothing wrong with me other than the silicone and crippling periods, one of which will be dealt with sooner than later.

Maybe I will be okay.

Right now, I smell like soap, thieves’ oil and shampoo. And for today, that’s enough.

I think this blog is not long for this world, I created a new patreon tier where you can keep reading these blog posts for less than $1 USD per month.
Go forth and subscribe my lovelies

https://www.patreon.com/sarahthegoodwitch