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What are you doing? Are you the kind of person who jumps out of bed, jumps head first into the shower, gets dressed, and gets on with your day? Are you the kind of person who showers at night so you have more time to catch up to yourself in the morning? Do you take time to think about your plans anywhere in any of it? I’m nosy, so I’m asking! Is it rhetorical? Only if you don’t leave a comment! ha…

Intentions are literally your goals. What are you planning for your life, and how do you plan on hitting the mark? What goals have you set for that mark? I rarely hear of a person who just haphazardly goes through life becoming some amazing person without waking up with goals. They are what I’ve determined to be the absolute foundation to living as your most radical self.

Let’s Talk Routines

Part of my morning routine includes laying in bed an extra five minutes and thinking about what my goals are for the day. I notice I have a lot better personal trajectory if I get out of bed with my mental sights already set on what my plans are. I don’t mean existentially or anything, just making sure I know what I expect of myself before my feet touch the carpet.

On a typical day, I will wake up and take a deep breath or two, check my mood, then think about my daily goals: prepare myself like a feature presentation, do well at work, and come home satisfied that I continued my trend of being self-sufficient. From that initial mental goal setting comes my affirmations: I’m going to get cleaned up, dress nice, and make sure I smell great, because I deserve the confidence that comes from basic morning self-care. I’m going to give myself the ability to feel secure by making sure I have everything I need for work ready to go before I leave the house. I’m going to make sure that everything is in place for me to go above and beyond, today, because my abilities more than meet the standards required of me. That way, I can come home satisfied that I’ve furthered myself along the path of being self-sufficient.

My meditation opened the door to speaking my intentions, which led to my affirmations, something people rarely associate with one another (out loud, anyway), but I’ve found to be crucial in my ability to speak kindly to myself. If service is my love language, then I need to offer acts of service to myself so I understand how much I value myself. When managing bipolar disorder and working with the aftereffects of complex trauma, setting the tone before I even get out of bed is what enables me to ensure I am aware that I’m actually present for myself during the day. This simple five minute ritual sets the tone for how I treat myself and others, and even how I receive the actions and behaviours of others.

In the case of my typical morning, my acts of service are taking care of my body, making sure I am prepared before I leave the house, and ensuring I am able to maintain a positive attitude while I work. In the way I relate to people, I’ve always said “a little bit of honey goes a long way.” When I realized that radical self-care gives me an opportunity to give myself those drops of honey, it was all but game over for having too harsh of a manic upswing or too low of a depressive state. I’m not saying this cured me, I’m saying it has helped me steer clear of the more extreme swings. At least I think so. I haven’t really had a swing since I started doing this, and that’s been at least six weeks, now.

What if it’s bad?

I mentioned checking my mood. Sometimes I wake up and immediately am reduced to tears. Whether it was a nightmare or just an overnight unconscious downswing, I can wake up so tense that my entire body feels like it will snap into pieces if I move too much or too quickly. For example, my traps look nice and strong because they’re consistently in an eccentric state of tension (this is where I hold most of my stress). I’m lucky enough that my work day doesn’t start until around 2pm, so I have time to stop and make coffee and take a painkiller (ibuprofen for me) and let it get to work before I focus on recentering myself into the real world, or what I call “factual world,” since that makes more practical sense in context.

I’ll be candid here: I am still not adept at recognizing this version of me as being largely not social-media friendly. So I usually doom scroll and get really sad that nobody loves me enough to feel it. Which also isn’t factual. We are all living our lives, and hopefully all of us are either recognizing our personal greatness or on the way to doing so, and we’re not always going to be up in each other’s business on BlueSky or Facebook or Instagram. I might miss, for example, a friend having an absolute shit of a day the day before, even if I have them on my mutuals and alert notifications lists. Doesn’t mean I’m ignoring them, I just didn’t see it. And checking socials while in a negative downswing helps me forget that about people.

The way I frame my morning when it’s bad is that I give myself the time to untense myself. Advil, coffee, put on a podcast or music that regulates me emotionally, do my best to avoid social media. Once the pain subsides, I make a point to do a full body stretch. (brag incoming) I hold six records in my state as an inline hockey goalie, and I have quite a stretching routine that I still use…if I can find the pictures online, I will share it. It’s basically whole-body yoga. But it stretches out every flexible muscle on the body and I find a lot of benefit from it, especially when driving, lifting heavy objects, running, and going up and down flights of stairs is a part of the job.

Essentially, your wake-up mood or physical state does take precedence, no matter what. Get yourself situated, and when you’re ready to roll, find a comfortable place to sit, close your eyes, take a few deep breaths (meditation), and think about your main goals (intention) and how you’re going to get them done. And make sure to let yourself know how much of a bad ass you’re going to be just for getting them done (affirmation).

Simplicity Is Key

Notice that this routine (on a typical day) for me is super easy. Wake up, take a few breaths, state my goals, give myself the pep talk for getting everything set up to achieve the goals, and then get on with my day.

Allow me to show in full detail what this looks like.

10am: wake up, meditate, state intentions, affirm myself.

10:05: sit on the side of my bed, let the sun shine on me through my window for a bit, take my dose of creatine and my morning prescription medications, and drink water (I keep a fresh bottle of water at my bedside).

10:10: scoot down the bed to my morning prep table, where I read from four daily devotionals. I’ve chosen the following:
The Daily Stoic
Touchstones
The Daily Carrot Principle
Reflections for Ragamuffins

When it is light outside, I will get a picture of this setup. I’ve been blessed with the perfect furniture for this, but it’s 11pm and I’m in vampire mode, so I am not turning the lights on for a picture. Plus my bed isn’t made (I know).

10:30am: Usually, my next step is to do a simplified version of that goalie stretching routine (think basic stretches), and make my bed. This closes the door on going back to sleep.

10:45: I then stop my thoughts (CBT for some ptsd that I have in relation to this) and go take a shower, then do my skincare routine, and get dressed.

If you need to know, my skincare routine is silly simple:
– wet face
– use a face wash, rinse
– apply Noxema (my bread and butter), rinse
– apply toner, pat-dry off
– apply an spf moisturizer

10:55: Then I do the baby powder business and get dressed — all the way to shoes. I learned about the shoes thing from The FlyLady — who I fell in love with very early on after moving into my first place, a mobile home on a 526 acre farm just outside of town. Implementing it was easy then, and for me it’s easy now. Tying the laces tells me it’s time to get things done. And just like then, when I was in my spritely mid 20s, it’s the same mental sentiment. Except my shoes are already tied and I can just pull them on. But it’s the same mentality.

11:00: After that, I check the time. Usually by now, it’s 11:00 or a bit before. I get a cup of coffee and check social media as well as check on game dailies. I check GW2 and ESO mostly.

12:00: I check the flat to make sure it’s decent, and usually spend a little bit of time on at least one section of the place to make sure it’s not getting overly dusty or whatnot.

12:30: This is where I start prepping for my work day. If I am writing for the first few hours of my workday, then I prepare accordingly. If I am going out for the whole day, I prepare for that. My preparation depends on what I have scheduled.

That’s a lot of explanation, but I felt it was relevant to how I keep it simple.

This is For You

Remember, setting your intentions is not related to anyone else. They are specifically for you and nobody else. The entire concept of radical self-care is not about whether someone else approves, it’s whether it helps you progress in your life. And my morning routine of it is how I do it.

If you aren’t sure of your intentions, remember that getting through the day is just as important as staying in the upper echelon of your field. I started in a narcissist-run house that I thought I couldn’t escape from. Two years later, I’m focusing on being mentally clear-headed enough to write for a video game, write a memoir (it’s a slow process), write a full-length novel, and do a ten hour shift with my job five days a week. We all start somewhere. But the whole point is finding that starting point and making next steps as we go. That is the intentionality of it all.

If you’re struggling with what to do next, take some time to look at where you are in relation to where you want to be, and bring where you want to be back down to where you are now. The place you saw yourself prior to now is the next step from now. Make that your intention, and by all means, follow through. It might be rough, but it will absolutely be worth it.

I wrote about how reframing greed can be a huge benefit in the last installment, highlighting the importance of giving yourself permission to take all the care you need, even when you feel like you’re overdoing it. In this post, I plan on also reframing humility and strategically using it as a tool of empowerment. Humility, of course, is maintaining a level of modesty about how important something is, or how much value it has. When I was in high school, I used to have a shirt that said, “I’m the most humble person you’ll meet, just ask all the people I’ve helped.” It was a joke, and it was a perfect example of not being humble. Though I do love helping people, I don’t want to use it as a tool of empowerment. It does feel good to help others, but it’s not something I want to explicitly get attention for.

So let’s shift to talking about humility in regards to post-traumatic stress. One of the foundational elements of mitigating trauma is understanding that post-traumatic stress is internal, meaning that the majority of the stress comes from within. It is based on external events, but once you can nail down the fact that the sources of post-traumatic stress are learned experiences (thus, in your head) and must be unlearned, naming traumas becomes easier, and mitigating them becomes the practice. For those of us who deal with c/PTSD on the regular, we know that our problems often feel much larger than us. It’s the same with stress in general, really. It simply feels bigger than you can manage.

If we frame it as a form of currency, that feeling of inadequacy becomes extremely valuable. The overwhelm from having too much to do starts to go up in price. This is why the negative self-talk is so loud. It’s not because you want to hear it, but it is paying heed to this stuff that has suddenly become these high-value situations rolling about in your head.

In more casual terms, that shit needs to be humbled.

So how can we humble our trauma when it feels overwhelming? We survivors of things don’t usually have a problem being humble, ourselves, but when the overwhelm happens, our humility becomes subservience to the overwhelm. For me, the mood swings and trauma triggers have at times been so intense that it would incapacitate me in a freeze state for hours at a time. In therapy, I learned about some super quick fixes to help mitigate that, and one is role playing that the trigger had a source that either fit or could be shrunk to fit into a tiny container. Negative self talk becomes little imps and i stuff them into tiny boxes with labels. I think this is literally called “the container method.”

I loved this trick so much that I spent time in Elder Scrolls Online, taking one of my larger homes and furnishing it with a new vase or treasure chest or safe box, etc every time I needed to make another container for myself. Having the visualization that I’ve effectively shrunk the thing and put it in a container (and labeling it for later) has produced quite the feeling of control and power over whatever the stress is. My house full of containers in the game acts as a sort of “I love me” wall so I can look upon all of my accomplishments when I need to be reminded of things I’ve overcome.

I also had a shirt back when I was a goalie that said “My goal is to deny yours.” I utilized a practice that I learned as a goaltender that really doesn’t have a name, it was just visualization of being bigger than the situation. Your goal as a goalie is to take up so much space in front of the net so the oncoming shooters won’t have any real estate to shoot at. Come out of the crease, square up, butt low, glove out, paddle blade firmly on the ground, and maintain a position between shooter and net to force them to either take their shot or make a move. They have to either to work around you or dump the puck or play back into their own area.

Translated to stress and overwhelm: when I feel small or begin to feel like a literal child (this is c/ptsd specific, I think), I try to stop and breathe and imagine myself to be bigger and taller than whatever has triggered me into the regression. Just like I did as a goalie vs the shooters. What this would do is deny my overwhelm the ability to actually overwhelm me. It works every time, when I can get myself to pause and breathe and imagine. In these situations, the window of opportunity for me is very quick, and I’ve not completely mastered this, yet, though I’ve shown marked improvement with it. I’d say I’m 6 or 7 out of 10 now on these situations… Since I started my mood stabilizers, though, this has become a lot easier, since my mind has slowed down enough to think before reacting. It is very bizarre to me how imagining yourself being bigger actually works. But it does, so I do it.

Humbling the thing that feels bigger than you can be quite the boon. (not relating this to social interactions, mind you.) Most of the time (for me) the trigger is the notion of being judged for not being able to follow through on a task, whether or not I’ve done enough for others, or being greedy, as I mentioned in the last post. So being able to make myself bigger or make the thing smaller, while performative in a way, actually gives me the empowerment I need to follow through on whatever is going on.

By reframing humility as a tool for mitigating trauma, we can take control of those overwhelming situations and feeling of being less than them. When you humble the thing that feels bigger than you, whether it’s a trigger, a task, or a wave of shame, you take your agency back, continue moving forward and do what needs to be done.

Stay humble, my friendos, but make sure your stress is humbler.

Yeah, I said it. Greed. You need to be greedy. You need to put yourself first. Everywhere. Which, that’s kind of the point of radical self-care. When done right, there’s no guilt. But with a history of trauma, there’s a lot of it, even when done right. It takes practice, but once you realize that that feeling of being too greedy is actually you just doing what you need to do for yourself, the guilt will go away.

Hence, greed is on my list of things you need when it comes to putting yourself first.

Greed, in this instance, is the negative connotation that you are taking care of your basic needs despite the feeling that they are not accessible or available to you, because you think other people deserve it more. In early recovery, you have to untrain the part that tells you that you are taking too much for simply asking for or taking that which you need. I know that even now, seven months into active recovery, I’ll have days where I struggle with doing things I need to do in the privacy of my own home. I’ll worry about the fact that I need thirty minutes to take a shower (I rarely take that long), despite giving myself a two-hour window to get my whole morning routine in. Then I have to fight the feelings of guilt for feeling so much better after I take it anyway. To me, this is greed. This is me doing more than I deserve. I’m lucky that on most days, I can combat this feeling with some positive self-talk and encouragement, but I’m of the understanding that I will have days like the one where it’s damn near impossible to achieve basic things. That’s recovery in action, though. Where this used to be a daily struggle, or would come up several times throughout the day, it’s now sporadic, and something I can get myself out of most of the time.

PERMISSION TO BE GREEDY

But we who are learning about life after trauma need permission to be greedy in this sense. We need to learn that we are royalty in our own homes and in the spaces we take up. It’s not just about acknowledging ourselves as being worthy of what we need, it’s about actively making a practice of it. When I first got out of the situation I was in, I was really good at saying that I was worthy. But the fight of actually providing myself with what I needed took most of my energy. There was always an excuse to not follow through. Always something that kept me from the words that I would say.

The biggest hurdle for me is when my executive dysfunction would create a messy environment. The piling of physical clutter suddenly made my environment more important than my body, which would cause me to freeze even more. I feel bad for not taking care of my surroundings, which made me feel bad for needing to take care of myself, and now I’m struggling with everything. So what would have been a quick shower, then time to pick up a little bit, I would freeze for up to an hour, if not more, and then start shaming myself for not getting anything done. RIP my day. My walk-around was actually kind of simple and low-effort. I turned a small stack of notecards into permission slips. Every one was permission to be greedy. I added a space for the date and time that I was using it, a space to write why I felt I needed permission, and a reminder to look myself in the mirror and say “I love you.”

I made a dozen of them. And though it felt like I was rationing out my self-care, it actually helped me to put myself first, especially on days where I can’t.

Because where we see greed, most people see normal routines.

For what it’s worth, today is one of those days where I struggled to take a shower, this morning. On my permission slip, I wrote the date (12/15/2025) and why (dealing with executive dysfunction yesterday afternoon, which led to a messy house, and today I woke up with negative self-talk about having a single bad night after – I think – ten consecutive good ones). I went and told myself I love you, and jokingly said “you stink, let’s fix that.” My shower took a whopping 6 minutes, and I’m in clean clothes. My entire outlook is better. I actually have more energy to take care of last night’s dysfunction so that I can be in a cleaner environment. (Owen Wilson “wow”)

I’m a rather rigid person. I have a very high expectation of meeting all of my routines, my standards, and my goals on a daily and weekly basis. The problem with this is that if I don’t meet any part of those standards, the rest of the day falls by the wayside. If I miss my sleep goals, I struggle with my morning routine. If I don’t get my morning routine in, I engage in negative self-talk, which ruins the energy I have for the rest of the day. Where I have plenty of places throughout the day to stop and catch up with myself, I tend to cater to the self-defeating words and behaviors rather than push through to the next goal. This is essentially perfectionism.

When I had to get back on a mood stabilizing medication, recently, I found myself exhausted all the time. I was incapable of meeting my standards of self-care. Uncomfortable and inconvenient simply became impossible. I was very hard on myself about it. My inability to put myself first all the time uncovered some harsh truths about my recovery plan. It was a combination of stigma, feeling bad for having to revisit an old diagnosis, being too tired to follow through on that which I preach about, and the medication-induced fog of basically just not knowing what was going on all the time as well as I normally can. It forced me to realize that I’ve not been being kind to myself, and that I need to lighten up.

It wasn’t just because of medication, though that was the catalyst of the realization. My life hadn’t been fun, lately. I’ve been so focused on therapy that I forgot about the fact that there’s life outside of it. I mean, I make a point to read as much as I can about it, because I really do want to be what I’m writing about. I want to feel that feeling of being happy, healthy, clear-headed, and emotionally balanced again. I do know what I need to do, but I expect myself to incorporate and master these things overnight. I don’t want to make room for the times that I lose executive function on a simple thought or triggering situation. I don’t want to make room for those times I would get excited and watch that dopamine copter fly off and out of my control. I don’t want to make room because I don’t want to deal with those moments…because I don’t want to have those moments.

I felt pressure to do better in places where I was already enough as I am. I was misinterpreting social cues (that I already struggle with) as indicators that I was not being appropriate or I was wrong entirely. I was being super mean to myself if I didn’t meet my daily goals. Which, this pressure was one of the reasons said dysfunction and manias would happen. One thing flipped the wrong direction, and I felt so guilty and ashamed of myself, because things I didn’t want to deal with anymore just came out with such intensity that I couldn’t deny having a problem with them. Those are just the two loudest things.

That’s the thing about being a Jonah. If you got a whale of a problem, the whale will eventually spit you out where you need to be spat, which is how I ended up back on a mood stabilizer for a diagnosis I didn’t want to have in the first place. Gosh, this sounds like something I said not too long ago about alcoholism.

Did I mention I’m stubborn?

Anyway, accepting the fact that I needed the help (and not just a symptom soother like what I was on previously), and following through on it, forced me into a two week slowdown, since the mood stabilizer basically zombifies you for a couple of weeks until it levels off in your system. Over the span of the first two weeks, and even through the first two-three months, the zombie feeling fades, and you begin to feel more levelheaded. I know, now, that my circadian rhythm is way off. I’m awake at 4am like it’s 4pm, and I struggle to get consistent full eight hour sleeps.

But I’ve learned that being as rigid as I’ve been in this condition is unfair. I can’t do what I expect of myself. I can’t be on top of my game, I can’t achieve most of my daily standards. Heck, until a couple of days ago, I’ve barely been able to get fully dressed within an hour of waking up. My morning walk was less hit and more miss, and that was a major bookmark in my day between “self time” and “people time.” I had no choice but to relax my grip on needing standards and expectations to be met, and that included people, not just routines and personal expectations.

Flexibility, in this case, hasn’t just been about loosening my grip, it’s also about letting things exist as they are, and that includes myself. Attachment, after all, is the root of all suffering. Attachment to routines, to people, to stigmas even. Attachment implies you must have some control over the thing. You don’t have control over anything, really, outside of your own self-work, but even in that, you have to be able to bend when you need to. If you wake up at the right time for a good morning routine, and you have no water, that eliminates your ability to take a shower, and unless you have bottled water on hand, the coffee is going to have to be acquired somewhere else. If someone does something that implies distance and you don’t have the knowledge as to why (that you’re not always privy to, anyway), you might assume that you need to correct something that never came up in the first place. I’m stubborn. My old habits are if you cause a problem, you attempt to fix it until you fix it correctly. But if you’re attempting to correct something that doesn’t exist, then you’re not even beating your head against a wall, you’re just headbanging into nothingness. Might as well join a metal band at this point. When the attachment creates such a desire to control that you are willing to create problems to correct in order to feel that things are maintained, even subconsciously, then you have traded flexibility for the illusion of stability. Illusion is just another word for cover. Like I did with my alcoholism. Like I did with how bad my trauma was. Like I did with my rigidity, old diagnoses, my need for stronger medication, my perfectionism…

The further I advance into my own recovery and therapy, I’m learning there’s a very common theme in all of the work we are doing: detachment, letting things exist as they are (including myself), and learning to flow with those things.

If I must maintain it, then I must also let go of it.

Attachment feels like self-care, but it’s really just control cosplaying as responsibility. When you tell yourself something has to happen a certain way, be it a routine, a mood, relationships, a version of yourself you’re trying to build or maintain, you stop working on what’s in front of you and start flirting with the version you think you’re supposed to maintain. Instead of responding to life as it happens, you end up micromanaging it. Being flexible doesn’t negate consistency. It doesn’t contradict commitment. It opposes attachment. When you let things be as they are, you stop forcing it to conform to that version you believe is “right” that you are holding so tightly to. Because changing your present shape in life doesn’t happen if you’re too busy trying to maintain a shape you haven’t even acquired yet. You cannot maintain your best self if you are not there, yet.

Detachment isn’t rejection. It’s allowing present realities to exist without forcing the standard to match the version you think you’re supposed to maintain. Attachment says “If I am not perfect, if things are not reciprocal, if all steps are not checked off, then I have failed myself and everyone around me.” Detachment says “I do not need to be perfect, I can allow this relationship to circulate and breathe, and I can miss a step or two if I must. It is what it is, and I am satisfied with that.”

Flexibility and detachment, therefore, are one and the same. Flexibility is loosening the grip on the need to be perfect at a thing. Detachment is loosening the grip on perfecting a thing. And both are incredibly relieving. As with all things, it takes practice to make permanent. But making a practice of it makes everything go so much more smoothly. Let it go. Stop struggling. Learn to exist without clinging to and tearing off every branch of every tree that hangs over the river you’re flowing with. Just. Be.

That’s what radical self-care is all about: learning to let go of all of the harsh and unfair standards you were raised to meet, and raise yourself above them.

Oh, empathy. That thing I am so good at usually having for others, but rarely for myself. It’s the ability to understand the feelings of another person and respond to or treat them with those feelings in mind. It’s akin to putting yourself in someone else’s shoes without literally being where they are, imagining what it’s like in their position, and let them know through our response(s) that we are aware of their emotional state.

It isn’t sympathy, which many people confuse the two. Sympathy is passively feeling pity or sorrow for a person’s position or situation. Empathy is actively reacting in a manner that shows the other person you are right there with them as best as you can be on an emotional level.

A good example of this is from my own experience with trauma and recovery. When I am at my worst, I look for external reassurance and validation. Except that’s not what I need — what I need is reinforcement that I am strong and knowledgeable enough as an individual, whether I get reassurance, validation, or not. My biggest support folks reinforce my experience, intellect, and strength. In place of the band aid that reassurance and validation would provide, I am given hope — but the kind of hope that comes from within, not from others. I’m blessed that I have a support system who know me well enough to actually give what I need instead of band aids.

Empathy goes a lot deeper than just knowing what someone else needs in a situation. When I played hockey (goalie), I had this near-mythical on-ice vision, according to my coaches and a write up (I was featured in an article when we went to nARCH one year). What vision is, in hockey terms, is the ability to see the ice well enough to put the puck where it needs to be in order for your teammates to do their job. As a goalie, being able to see and predict all four players’ movements on the concrete pond was necessary (this was inline hockey, after all, we didn’t play on ice). Most goalies are good at seeing next steps in their own zone. I could see the rink almost as if it were a complete mini map, and I had mental lines showing the trajectory of each player mentally established long before they would get there, so sailing the puck across the “ice” in advance was something I was rather adept at. I could see which player would be open and not offsides just in time to receive the puck that I’d pass. I also knew when the puck needed to be dumped to the other end or trashed into one of my corners. I just…knew. I knew what to do, when to do it, and how much time I had between decision and action.

Empathy is a lot like that on-ice vision. Where I, as a goalie, could see everyone’s movements, their individual situations, and what they need in order to keep progressing during the play, I also knew what I was capable doing from my humble abode in front of my net to give specific players a chance to put a score on the board. In social interactions, the same intuition that allowed me to create plays for my team helps me to instinctively understand the feelings, intentions, and situations that people around me are in, why they are acting the way they are, and what I might be able to do in my position as a human in their vicinity in order to either help them along or ease their struggle, or even celebrate their wins, if I’m able to do anything at all.

Hypervigilance helps as well. While it’s a byproduct of trauma, I’ve learned that it can also be used as a tool. I know just sitting on a bus that a woman across from me is frustrated because her phone just died. I could offer her mine if she needs to call someone or text them. I know the man sitting behind me is upset because his truck broke down in the mall parking lot. When we get off at my stop, I can offer him a ride if he needs it. I know the two kids in the back of the bus just skipped class to go to Dave and Buster’s, and they don’t realize their mother is hiding in the seat across from the man with the broken-down truck waiting to pounce on them. I didn’t have to say anything to anyone, I just know by behavior, expressions, and other aesthetic knowledge to help me discern the situation of everyone. In that moment, I can help the man with a ride and the woman with my phone. But the kids and their mum? Not in my field of expertise. But something tells me Mum’s got it under control.

One thing I struggle with is empathy toward myself. Self-awareness and hypervigilance I have in excess. But empathy? Being kind to myself when I need it? Rarely, and I say that even as I am learning to commit to my self-care on a radical level. It’s easier to throw a punch at myself a few times out of anger for being what I deem as not good enough than it is to forgive myself and be mindful of future infractions. We don’t learn by punching, however. But we do learn by mindfulness.

So…if you’re not good at being kind (empathetic) toward yourself, ask yourself a few questions:

1. Are your needs met right now? By that, I mean have you showered, gotten dressed into clean/decent/any clothes — all the way to your shoes and socks? Have you eaten? Are you able to get some water and food right quick – to sit down and satiate any hunger?
2. How do you feel? Now that your carnal needs have been met, get a pen and some paper. Not your phone, not your computer. Pen and paper. I don’t care if it’s a napkin. Just…something to write with and something to write on. Write down how you feel. Literally: “I feel ___” fill in the blank. If I were to write it down, I would write down that I am sad, but okay.
3. Now write down why you feel this way. You don’t have to be massively detailed. Just write down why you feel ___. I’d write down that I lost a friend recently and am grieving.
4. Empathy. Write down what you need right now. What can happen right this minute that would make you feel better. Me? Spending time with friends, but I can’t do that until tomorrow. So for now, I want to listen to music and complete a logic puzzle with a cup of Earl Grey and my cat in my lap. Earlier, I wanted to just close my eyes and practice breathing exercises. Before that, I soaked in a hot bath (fell asleep a little, actually).

Trauma teaches us that our feelings do not matter. It teaches us that we should put ourselves last, that we are not worthy of basic decent treatment. That we should not take time out for ourselves. The truth is, we deserve self-care and empathy even more because of what we have been through. It doesn’t matter if it was a one-time incident that “isn’t as bad” — if you hide from yourself, don’t. You deserve good treatment. You deserve to be seen as a human with human emotions and human needs. If you need permission to be honest with yourself and take care of yourself, I grant you permission.

• Get yourself cleaned up, eat something or have some water or tea or coffee or soda…or….but get satiated.
• Write down “i feel” and finish the sentence.
• Write down why you feel that way.
• Write down “this is what would help me feel better:” and list what would help you feel better.
  Pro Tip: include things you can actually do or have access to.
  Then go do at least one of the things on your list. Things that you don’t have to go far for — unless leaving the house is on your list.
  Essentially: low-impact items that will be done more easily. Maybe try to experience two items on your list.

If you’re like me, the first few times you try to be authentically kind and empathetic toward yourself, you will probably cry or get very angry. It feels like you don’t deserve it. When I spent my first night of a three week stay in a behavioral health unit after a near-successful unaliving attempt, I was given stuff for a shower, fresh clothes, socks, slides (because shoelaces weren’t legal for reasons), and when I cleaned up and changed, I was taken down to the kitchen to get a meal in me. I sat at a table by myself and cried so hard that I choked myself a few times. I couldn’t eat. I was starving, but I was so ashamed of myself and hated myself that I felt like everything I was just given wasn’t deserved. I didn’t try to do what I did because I was in pain. I literally didn’t want to be here. When a behavioral health advocate came and sat with me, he pulled a pen from his pocket. He made me swear that I wouldn’t tell anyone for seven years (it’s been over ten at this point) that he loaned me his pen. But he had me write down what I just told you.

What do I feel? (I wrote “done.”)

Why? (my family stopped talking to me two months ago, my coworkers turned on me because I got promoted and apparently they don’t like me, I have no friends, I’m alone, I can’t drink enough to cover it up)

What do I have access to that would make me feel better? tea, puzzle, a book, a notepad, a hug. not being here anymore.

Then make yourself go do the list (or at least a few things on it). so i did.

This is basically what I wrote that day in 2011. And it was from that list that I learned I adore raspberry hibiscus tea, puzzle books are my favorite thing, and I keep them everywhere I spend time, just like books and notepads and writing instruments. I have all of that in the nightstand by my bed, and at my desk as well. My car, too. I even have a “go bag” at my grandmother’s house (yes, that grandmother) that includes those things as well.

So…you can do this. Dust off, clean up, get dressed, get a bite, and write down how you feel and why, and what would make you feel better. The more you make a practice of it, the easier it gets. Get comfortable being honest with yourself. If I can do it, you 100% an do it, too.

Anyone who plays MMOs knows that there’s a ton of commitment and dedication needed to get to certain achievements. Discipline gives ground for such to happen. In Elder Scrolls Online, for example, one of my proudest achievements is getting Emperor in Cyrodiil, the open world PVP area — not once, but three times on three different accounts, because I’m hopelessly in love with this game, even though at this time I’m totally burned out with it. I’ve played since launch, more than 15,000 hours across 15 accounts (I thought we needed 15 to have our own private guild bank, turns out we only need 10.)

The best thing about emperorship is that your main goal isn’t to be outstanding, it’s to be able to have the most AP during the campaign when your faction claims the six inner circle keeps. You can literally die over and over, but if you’re in the right place at the right time consistently to earn the AP, and your faction gains ownership of all six of the inner circle keeps, you’ll get it. I did this three times, twice in the big campaign, and once in the week-long one. One of those was a team effort in which I actually had a horde of folks on my own faction working against me because I was new and they felt I didn’t deserve the crown. It literally took three full teams of 24 to take the entire map overnight with at least a dozen spies watching and helping. That was the most nailbiting experience I’d ever had in my gaming history, and I’ve been gaming since I was four.

TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAMWORK

In terms of discipline in a MMO, a lot of our best achievements require acute teamwork, which is a whole ‘nother level of dedication, commitment, and discipline. In ESO again, dungeons require four people (some achievements can be done with three people if they’re decent) to get the highly acclaimed trifectas: no death, speed run, hard mode — all in one go. I’m proud to say I have most of these done — and with the same team of people. Always Kattatonia and Kris, and the third person is a well-known friend from the game.

Take this trifecta from Moonhunter Keep (on my birthday in 2023, even!), in which I, Katt, Kris (Quadraxis), and Xim(theBard) nailed it on the fourth try — organically. None of us had gotten it before. This was our first time getting the achievement.

Castle Thorn was a similar case, with DarkLadyJupiter in where Xim was. This took us several tries and a ton of mistakes, including this gem from me in one of our earlier attempts. But we did finally get all of our shit together, including the magic of RNG not cursing us with the infamous invisible circle bug, and we got it done. For me, it was learning when not to stampede in, or when to roll dodge out of harm’s way in a smaller-than-it-looks moving safety circle when Lady Thorn decides to divebomb us. Which, honestly, all of us have to do that. When we gelled, we became a trifecta mill for those still learning how to nail it all down.

IRL DISCIPLINE

In the real world, discipline hardly comes with bragging rights. You wake up, you do your routine, you show up even when you don’t want to. You grind out your daily tasks and come home like clockwork. If you’re lucky enough to have a job you love, this usually comes with fun and a smile or three. Your post-work gym time might come with a grimace, but you’ve been consistent, and you are disciplined, so things show results after awhile. But unless you’re dedicated to becoming the best of the best in your field or hobby, trophies and accolades aren’t in the plan. The only respect you’re getting is that sign of self satisfaction when you feel good that the day is done and you get to wind down with a game or tv show or end of day chat with a loved one before taking yourself to bed. But you’re doing the work, and that’s what matters.

MISCONCEPTIONS

There’s a lot of misconceptions of discipline, whether someone bored it into your head or you read about it somewhere. Discipline isn’t cracking a whip or punishment. It’s a practiced condition of doing what works. A lot like consistency, which is showing up to do the work, discipline is actually doing it. Nobody’s going to punish you for not meeting your own standards. You won’t be ridiculed for missing a step in your process. It’s all about you and getting from where you are now to being on the other side of what needs to be done.

TOOLS OF THE TRADE

What do you need to be disciplined? You need a reason. A goal. Purpose is advanced, but if you know what you love and can’t stop talking about, then you already have a purpose. Let me segue here and say purpose isn’t people unless you’re married to them and they need the sounding board / signal boost. Example: don’t get me started talking about Samantha Béart. I will go on for days about their career and their podcast, It Takes A Village. They are one of my most favorite people on the planet, and inspired me to try to sober up in April 2024, and eventually leave the oppressive environment I was in behind in August of that same year. If not for them, I’d not have fallen in love with the concept of the radical self, nor would I be 24/7 commiting to it writing about it all. But Sam isn’t my purpose, they’re just someone who said something in a podcast that lit a fire under my ass when I needed it the most. My purpose is my passion: exploring the concept of the radical self and sharing what I learn and how it works for me.

If you have a goal, though, you’re golden. You need to make a plan after that, so you know what you’re going to do in order to get from here to the goal. You might be able to find all you need online. You may need a support system. For me, I have several avenues in which I have separate support systems:

1. I have a trauma-informed recovery coach, a psychiatrist, an LGBT group and a bipolar group that I meet with on a schedule for my complex ptsd and my adhd/bipolar issues (because apparently adhd is something that needs to be taken as seriously as my bipolar issues). I am active in three message boards online that talk about this stuff, and am also starting to extend my mutuals on social media to people who are dealing with the same issues. I’m also taking a mood stabilizer and, in case of emergency, a killswitch medication that knocks my ass out if I can’t control my emotions enough (it’s trazodone, y’all, sometimes I become so distraught that I can’t handle things, and I have to force myself to just sleep it off).
2. I have a personal trainer…technically two, but one is someone I meet with three times a week at my gym when I go. Lucky for me, both are free from the gym, but one is really interested in me getting to my goal. It could be because they, too, have complex ptsd, and we end up working out and talking about how things are going between sets. He’s also seen my 410lb deadlift. Will share more on that in a minute.
3. I’m writing for a video game that would get more attention from me, but I’ve had some massive roadblocks thanks to the recent rediagnosis of bipolar…but I can say it’s on my roster of work. I can also say that I have a whole team of 20+ people (I think we’re at 25 now?) to go to if anything happens. It’s such a rush to say I’m writing narrative for a game, but it’s even sweeter to know I have some serious professionals with major Triple A titles under their belts to go to if I need help or have questions. This is the dream, y’all.

PERSONAL DISCIPLINE

So in regards to my workouts, speaking of discipline, when I was at my best the first time, I had several things happen:
– I went from 345lb to 168lb (a total of 177lb lost over the course of four years)
– Physically, I went from 55% bodyfat to 14%. I had bowling ball shoulders, a visible four pack abs, and just looked like a presence.
– I started out squatting 165lb, but after four years of intense training, I was squatting my body weight, which was my stated goal the first day I tried them out. I’d never done squats, and they just made my whole body feel good to do. I hit 345lb squats on the same day I saw 168lb on the scales.
– I was medicated: strattera for adhd, depakote for bipolar, and trazodone as my killswitch. Just like I restarted recently.
– I maintained a rigid routine and schedule, and I never wavered.
– I kept very few friends, but had a ton of friendos (people who are absolutely friend material, but we haven’t actually met).
– I was a prolific writer, just like now, and I was actively being published in several newsletters and quarterlies under my old name.
– I had a social life that usually revolved around music and movie outings.

None of it looked like this on day one. This was the culmination of about four years of practicing a discipline that focused on a goal: be mentally healthy, be a writer, look my best, hit some crazy goals, enjoy my life. That was built between 2007-2011. And I did this all while in therapy for cptsd (back when it was just ptsd since complex wasn’t a thing back then), and also navigating bipolar disorder and adhd. My current mantra is “If I could do it then, I can do it now.”

DISCIPLINE AFTER TRAUMA AND CHRONIC ILLNESS

If either fits you, dudes/dudettes/dudetheys: I am so sorry. I have both, it sucks. Trauma has its own sets of triggers and avoidances. Chronic illness hits you when you least expect it, even when you’re doing everything right. Heck, both can show up when you’re doing all you can to make sure they don’t give you grief. At this point, it’s a decision: you can keep practicing at discipline, or phone it in and make it to end of day. Neither is a horrible decision, all things considered. Big but: do what you can anyway. I have moments where something comes up in memory from years ago, and it causes a cascade of fear, anxiety, guilt, shame, and I inadvertently project those emotions onto others in my circles and spheres. I don’t always realize that when it happens, either. I make a point to apologize only where necessary and practice active forgiveness toward myself. Active forgiveness is the act of dismissing what you are doing that is causing you problems. Not because you do not want to deal with it, but because you do not deserve the punishment you want to dole on yourself for having a problematic day.

In other words, as my coach puts it, you are not a rhinoceros. Adding more shit to the pile the shit you’re already trying to manage is not going to make you a better person. Recognize your shit, sort it out, and don’t add to it by being an asshole to yourself.

CONCLUSION

Discipline is absolutely necessary for you to get to your goals. Consistency is showing up, discipline is following through. Whether you’re chasing Emperor in Cyrodiil, aiming for that bodyweight squat, or literally just trying to survive the daily grind while managing trauma and chronic illness, discipline remains the same. Do what you can do, and do the best you can to get to those goals, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. This is discipline.