Jewels from the Dark

Disclaimer: This post contains some examples that may be uncomfortable or distressing for some folks. This blog is for my own personal processing and does not offer nor replace any professional psychiatric advice or psychological therapeutic care. If you are struggling with mental health challenges, please seek medical attention, counseling, or crisis help.

If you are in a crisis moment, please reach out for help – In the US, dial 911 for emergency care or 988 for the National Lifeline. In the UK, dial 999 for emergency care or 0800 689 5652 for the National Helpline. If you are in another country, please click here for a list of emergency and crisis numbers.*

I use a lot of metaphor and narrative components to help make sense of my life. It helps me make meaning out of what is happening and to process the world in which I find myself.

One of those metaphors is the Nope Closet. As human beings, we all have a Nope Closet – it is the place where we tend to huck unwanted thoughts or feelings in order to just push through whatever we are facing. We come face to face with something that is too much or overwhelms our capacity to process in the moment and we pick it up and go, “NOPE!” and toss it into the closet. We may even step into the Nope Closet ourselves as a way to survive traumatic events, like unexpected loss, abuse, extreme embarrassment, or gutting disappointment.

Sometimes, we will go back and take that thing, that event, that feeling, that thought, back out and work with/on it when we are ready. Other times, it rattles the handle and knocks gently, hoping we are ready to face it. Still other times, it kicks the door open, unleashing what feels like the deepest abyss into our supposedly orderly lives.

In reality, the Nope Closet represents healthy compartmentalization at best and full dissociation at worst. There is a skill to being able to prioritize what needs to be addressed in moments of extreme stress or extraordinary pressure. The ability to compartmentalize in a healthy, balanced way can be a matter of life and death, or a way of exiting a crisis moment psychologically intact versus deeply scarred. But that ability does not always come naturally and sometimes it turns quickly into fully dissociating and numbing out.

To be clear, there is a time and place for that level of Nope as it is a survival mechanism that your brain and body has to withstand experiences that humans should never have to go through (e.g. rape, torture, abuse, physical trauma like a car crash, sudden loss, etc). Temporary dissociation, aka – stepping into the Nope Closet until the thing is over and you are safe, can be a protection. But when it turns into the default or when you are lost in the dark corners of the Nope Closet, it can become unbalanced and unhealthy.

So if the Nope Closet is such a helpful thing, why do we fear its contents so much? Half the time, we don’t remember what we chucked into it…and the other half we know EXACTLY what we shoved in, and the thought of bringing it back out terrifies us. But what if we could find a way to do that without getting lost or shutting down or crashing out, as the kids say? I think there is a way to do that, and it starts with just making an inventory of what may be in the Nope Closet. You can do that with the door still shut and locked (and quadruply dead bolted). You don’t need to go into specifics, it can be as simple as “loss,” “fear,” “crash,” “pain,” “sadness,” “trauma,” “insert-name-here.” That last one is a placeholder for whatever your Nope thing is/was.

Often, those things we lock away come with the big, heavy, uncomfortable emotions – you know, the ones our society likes to pretend doesn’t exist because they aren’t happy or positive. In fact, what you may find in most Nope Closets are negative, shadowy sides of things. But let me shout this from the rooftops until my voice is raw and gone – THERE IS BEAUTY TO BE FOUND IN THE DARK! Even in the Nope Closet. When we can find the space and courage to face the things that once overwhelmed us, we are able to mine those jewels in the deep caverns of human existence. Yet we were not meant to do that alone. Finding a trusted other – whether a friend, family member, clergy, therapist, etc. – who can walk with you to the Nope Closet, hold your hand, and help you pull one thing at a time out to sit with and process, is a priceless gift.

There will be moments of panic, fear, belly laughs, hope, and freedom when you are ready to face the contents. You may find that the roaring lion you yeeted into the Nope is now a tiny little paper tiger. Yes, I am aware those are different animals…such is the transformation that can happen in the Nope Closet when you begin to sit with the things that scared you.

I recently had one of my Nope Closet contents come to the door and boot it open. 3 years ago, I had renewed my EMT license in my state, even though I was having wrist fusion surgery the very next day after my recert course finished (note – my state has both a certification track and license track and I am a licensed EMT, for the moment). I had already lost so much of my identity, my profession, my health, and my ability – I could not face losing another aspect of how I defined me in the world.

I got my first EMT certification in 2001 and except for a 2 year gap while living in England, I have kept it current since. It has been an integral and integrated part of who I am my entire adult life and I was not ready to actually address its loss in the wake of everything else I was losing at warp speed. So, I chucked it in the Nope Closet and got busy trying to survive the whiplash of being injured in a job I loved and learning to live with a gaping hole in my world as it was stripped away, along with my literal hand a year later.

I got an email recently from our state EMS folks reminding me that I would need to complete my recert application if I wanted to retain my license. Out of the blue, the Nope Closet door was booted open and I came face to face with the pain, loss, and shame that I intentionally “noped” 3 years ago. And let me tell you, processing this has been a doozy.

I went through the cycle of grief five times over, each step coming in quick succession and then folding back on itself. I am not ready to lose the last part of my adult identity that I spent so many years honing and crafting. I am not ready to admit that I cannot do the same things I used to be able to do before the amputation. I am not ready to accept that even if I could find a way to do appropriate patient care with one hand, putting a glove on – I just need the one now – is nearly impossible, and taking it off when it has goobers on it is even harder. Could I figure it out? Probably. Will I? No.

I now face the opportunity to sit with my grief and watch the very last ember of the life I built from early adulthood on flicker out. I feel that in my bones, in the marrow of my life. Who I was is no longer who I am. And I don’t really know what to do with that yet. So I find myself again sitting among my ruins, this time with Grief sitting next to me. I am grateful she booted the door to the Nope Closet. I think I will invite her for a cuppa and see what we can learn from each, here – again – at the end of all things.