The last month has felt like one long uphill climb. I’ve been sick with parainfluenza and ended up in hospital, and lately it feels like my health never quite gives me a chance to catch my breath. My gastroenterologist has also said I need another endoscopy, which added yet another stress to an already heavy load.
A few months ago, my workplace offered me a promotion. But because of the sick days I’ve had to take for my chronic illness, they’ve now taken the promotion away and want me to continue as a casual. Being casual means there’s no guarantee of shifts, and even though I know I will probably get work, it’s never certain. On top of all this, I fell off my bike and ended up with an infected knee. I found out people had been talking behind my back. My long‑term GP is retiring. And I’ve just started with a new psychologist. It really has felt like everything arrived at once and stacked itself on top of me.
Yesterday all of that weight finally got too heavy. At work, I felt so underappreciated that I pulled out of the Christmas party. I was hurt that they chose someone completely new to take the longer shift over me, and I spiralled into feeling unwanted and invisible. By the time I got home, the sadness felt overwhelming and familiar — the kind of feeling that used to send me straight into old, harmful coping patterns.
Before DBT, whenever rejection or uncertainty hit, I didn’t know how to hold those emotions. Childhood trauma never taught me how. So I self‑harmed or went to hospital. It was a distraction from the pain, and it was also a way to be cared for when I didn’t know how to care for myself. Honestly, back then I didn’t mind being unwell or ending up in hospital because being looked after felt safer than facing my feelings.
But things are different now. I don’t want that kind of care anymore. I just want to live my life — even when it’s messy. The struggles still come, but I’m learning how to meet them differently.
DBT has completely changed the way I cope. At the beginning, I thought the skills sounded almost silly. I couldn’t imagine how ice, breathing, or mindfulness could possibly shift anything. But this week — especially the last two days — have shown me how powerful they really are. If I hadn’t used them, I know I would be in hospital right now.
I’m also learning something I never used to do: validating myself instead of relying on other people to tell me I’m okay.
Yesterday afternoon, sitting in the park before my shift, I felt awful. Underappreciated. Miserable. I didn’t want to walk into work at all. But I reached into my bag, took out the ice packs, and did TIP. Then I listened to a “Letting Go” meditation. It didn’t magically fix the day, but it steadied me enough to walk through the door and focus on the children.
When I got home, the sadness returned hard — the type of sadness that would have absolutely led to self‑harm in the past. But I didn’t go there. I reminded myself to be gentle. I repeated this too will pass like a little anchor in my mind. I meditated again. I got into bed and played with some fidget toys. I listened to an old audiobook that has comforted me through so many hard nights. I used half‑smiling and willing hands. I reminded myself of what my DBT psychologist always told me: sometimes you simply have to sit with the unpleasant feelings and trust that they will move.
And then there were cuddles with my beautiful cat, Neville — soft, grounding, warm. Just enough to remind me I was safe.
This morning, I still felt low. I told a friend, and she sent me a simple message: “you got this.” And somehow those three words held me together long enough to get on my bike and ride to work.
At work, something shifted. I didn’t sulk or freeze or lash out. I just turned up and did my job. That alone is growth — quiet, steady growth.
And as the hours went by, I slowly realised something important: I am appreciated. People said kind things. Some children and colleagues gave me thoughtful gifts. Little moments throughout the day softened everything that had felt so sharp the night before.
By the time I rode my bike home, I felt genuinely happy. It amazed me how I could feel so terrible yesterday and so light today.
And now, with everything a little calmer, I’m letting myself look forward. I’m looking forward to Christmas, to going to Cairns, to having real downtime, to decluttering and creating some peace in my home. It feels good to have hopeful things waiting for me.
After work, I went for a swim, and now I’m home with Neville curled nearby. I’m safe. I’m grounded. And instead of being in hospital tonight, I’m here — celebrating the end of term, sitting with the proof that I can cope differently.
I’m proud of myself. And I’m learning to say that with softness, without apology.
Thank you for reading.
Love, Luna.
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