Hygiene Olympics

Let’s talk about hygiene during recovery, because wow. I had no idea staying clean required this much balance, stamina and emotional fortitude. I used to shower like a normal person. Now it feels like I’m competing in an underground sport no one trains for.

Showering while holding up one leg?

That’s not hygiene. That’s Pilates.

Washing my hair?

A full‑body trust exercise between me, gravity and whatever deity oversees slippery surfaces.

Even brushing my teeth feels like a high‑stakes operation. I’m wobbling around like a baby giraffe trying to pretend I have control over my life.

And the energy it takes?

Exhausting.

I need a pre‑shower pep talk, a mid‑shower intermission and a post‑shower nap. By the time I’m clean, I’ve lived an entire lifetime.

But here’s the reflective part:

I never realized how much “feeling like myself” was tied to basic hygiene. When something as simple as washing your hair becomes the goal of the day, you start appreciating the tiny victories. The small moments where you feel human again. The days when “I changed my shirt” is enough.

So yes, I may currently smell like determination and survival.

But I’m learning patience.

I’m learning gentleness.

And I’m learning that even couch goblins deserve to feel clean.