The Sock Drawer

 

Our cat, Glory has a habit of doing what is captured in this photograph right here.  For years, because of her high- strung nature (she’s a Calico; our vet refers to her as “spicy”), she regularly targets my husband’s dresser drawer, always the sock drawer, and then proceeds to pull out each one of his socks.

You see the pile here, don’t you?

Day or night, we have heard the “Pfh-Pfh-Pfh” sound as she obsessively empties that drawer. We think her point in doing so is to reach the longer bottom drawer, one which contains my husband’s soft, comfortable shirts, an appealing cushion too irresistible for Glory to pass up. We believe this to be the explanation, as we see the telltale white layer of cat hair resting on top of my husband’s shirts.

And, we have tried to refocus our cat by providing various cat beds and blankets, spread throughout our home. Look here! This is even more warm, more comfortable, and, by the way, all yours! Don’t you want to cuddle up here?

I think you know the answer to that question…

Opened drawer.

“Pfh-Pfh-Pfh…”

Pile of socks on the floor.

This behavior- and Glory’s overall demeanor- started me thinking about its similarities to some of our own human dysfunctions, challenges and addictive tendencies. You and I may not dump our sock drawer out, creating a pile of clothing on the floor, but we have other coping mechanisms, don’t we?

Substance abuse, eating disorders, hoarding, unhealthy relationship dynamics, obsessions and addictions to anyone or anything under the sun, inevitably, can show up in our lives, sooner or later.

Opened drawer.

“Pfh-Pfh-Pfh…”

Pile of socks on the floor.

Living with Glory for these past ten years, I’ve observed, perhaps, her motivation for making a b-line to that sock drawer. Humor me, please, while I expound a bit.

Eureka!

First, there must be the determination of the answer, the solution, the medicine for the individual. Glory decided the sock drawer was her Eureka, the all-encompassing “Ah, yes, this works. This helps me.”

You and I can do it with addiction: drugs, alcohol, shopping, status, sex, work, a relationship, people pleasing, a social media post, etc. In that designated answer, somehow, someway, we believe that all will be well, maybe even perfect, maybe even pain-free.

Glory, in her frenzied, sock-grabbing state, perhaps, thought, “If I can just get through this passageway, then I’ll be happy and comfortable. I can take a nap.”

We, likewise, may also think, “If I can just get a drink, binge on comfort food, see my lover, get that promotion, get that person to like me, buy that thing online, then I’ll be happy and comfortable. Maybe then, I can rest.”

Research has been done, linking Dopamine and Serotonin surges to lab rats who constantly seek the mechanism that delivers on the positive reward. It can be bottles dispensing cocaine; it can be the cheddar cheese promise at the end of the maze.

For us, check out the thrill of posting on Facebook or Instagram. We get high from the “likes,” don’t we? We get a drunk euphoria from our chosen “hit.”

Feeling pleasure and joy, in and of themselves, is not bad. But if we can only experience that pleasure or joy, via our addictions, a/k/a, an external source, well, that’s another story.

Just like Glory, we may not be able to concentrate on anything other than our object of obsession. We can do all kinds of compromising things, while chasing the dragon of our “beloved.”

Some of the chasing I’ve personally done goes back to my college roommate days, heavily in the grips of disordered eating, when, I got the Eureka idea that my roomies’ food was my answer. I was starving, food-obsessed, and completely captivated by their Dairy Queen Dilly bars, so much so, I chose to steal them on a semi-regular basis.

Yeah. Not my best moment.  

But, in that moment, these food items were my answer to avoiding painful emotions and reality, in general. These Dilly bars promised I would be okay.

Opened drawer.

 “Pfh-Pfh-Pfh…”

Pile of socks on the floor.

Danger! Run! Hide!

And that leads me to the next revelation from this sock drawer situation: the element of danger (perceived or otherwise).

Yes, going back to Glory, she is skittish. She came from a traumatic backstory, with a hellish foster family before we adopted her years ago. So, she doesn’t trust. She hides constantly. She perceives thunder, closed doors, complete silence and some music as danger.

“Get me out of here!”

The sock drawer, with the ultimate destination of the bottom comfortable shirt drawer, offers her the hidey hole, the escape, the “safe place.”

So, of course, she opens the drawer…

“Pfh-Pfh-Pfh…”

Pile of socks on the floor.

Likewise, you and I can regard our own chosen devices in much the same way: an escape, a safe zone in which we are freed from scrutiny, pressure, responsibilities and complicated issues. And again, the usual suspects present themselves: substances, food, acquisition of possessions, power, status, relationships, etcetera. An all-too-common drill.

And, again, as I battled with disordered eating and body image issues, I raced to food, to starvation, to extreme exercise, to conspicuous consumption to fill some big black chasm that never got filled. It was all an attempt to be, to stay, safe. And, it had many built-in rituals that were little more than desperate superstitions to keep real life at bay.

No harm could come to me, so long as I had these things as my protective armor. This is what I told myself.

I opened drawer.

 “Pfh-Pfh-Pfh…”

Pile of eating disorder socks on the floor.

And what I also told myself was the following…

This is Comfy.

Again, what was the destination goal for Glory, as she pondered my husband’s dresser? She wanted that drawer, lined with, warm, soft shirts. She wanted to be comfortable.

And, if she had to make a mess in the process, so be it.

She was convinced this drawer solution would soothe her fears, her discomfort, whatever perceived threats she felt were coming after her.

And so, opened drawer.

 “Pfh-Pfh-Pfh…”

Pile of socks on the floor.

Comfort food, again, held so much of that same faulty promise for me. Food represented that elusive comfort from the abuse, the insecurities, the pressures. It was seen as so powerful that, when I was at the most intense peak of my eating disorders, no matter where I was on the scale, I obsessed about it. In my most desperate frame of mind, I would have done anything for it. My morals and dignity quickly evaporated quickly, as I not only stole from my college roommates, but I also ate from dumpsters.

Opened dumpster.

“Pfh-Pfh-Pfh…”

Pile of mess in my life.

Again, I was convinced I had my answer and I wouldn’t stop until I got my next fix. My sleep experiences revealed, although I didn’t know it at the time, that yes, I was, indeed, having “drug dreams.” I literally dreamt about my binge foods. I was a junkie.

Can you relate? What kind of junkie are you, my friend?

What is your vice?

The chosen object of our passion isn’t nearly as important as the motives driving our pursuits to obtain and experience it.

What would we do, sell, steal, kill, destroy, cheat and lie about to get our drug of choice?

The question, perhaps, illustrates that one powerful compulsion is, in fact, our need and want to feel comfortable.

Whereas Glory felt relief, hidden from the monster while resting on a bed of soft cotton shirts, you and I feel what feeling or answer when it comes to the concept/promise of “comfortable?”

 What will we be spared from? What will we escape? Enjoy?

Everything, ranging from complete, instant gratification to oblivion seems to be on that list.

The list is long. The list is endless.

And the list contains, in our vulnerable beings, the non-negotiable of “Comfort.” Being uncomfortable is forbidden.

So, again, opened drawer.

“Pfh-Pfh-Pfh…”

Pile of socks on the floor.

And how about this wonderful “reason?”

I don’t want to change.

That’s what it can come down to, huh? Resistance to change.

For ten years, my husband and I have tried to soothe Glory’s nature. We have used plug-ins, that supposedly radiate calming pheromones, reducing feline stress levels.

Nope.

We have bought Lavender-infused Catnip to induce a tranquil feline high.

Nope to that also.

We have spent hours luring her with wet food, treats and playtime.

She takes all of that, for what she can extract out it... and runs.

So, again, nope.

We cannot change who she is in this frightened, highly sensitive domain. And, while she has her loving side, while we may have made some inroads there, she still reverts to her drawer-empty, sock-tossing, let-me-hide-in-this-hidden-space behavior.

She doesn’t want to change.

Yes, indeed, good luck, getting this 10- year-old feline to embrace any other thought than that.

Opened drawer.

“Pfh-Pfh-Pfh…”

Pile of socks on the floor.

And you and I are not that far removed from this feline. Don’t we have our stubborn streaks?

After all, let’s do a little life review of our various attempts to “fix” ourselves.

Enthusiastic leaps into diet, fitness and self-care…

Personal Makeovers…

Leaving an old relationship, career, geographic location, etc., in exchange for a “new and improved” alternative…

Maybe even a few stints at rehab or some retreat?

And how many times have those endeavors worked? How many of them “stuck?”

Eh, that’s often a little shakier, isn’t it?

The reality, inevitably, seems to rear its head.

Opened drawer.

“Pfh-Pfh-Pfh…”

Pile of socks on the floor.

Why? Because often, we don’t want to change. Either we aren’t ready to make the commitment, or we aren’t willing to make that commitment.

And commitment is necessary to make any significant, lasting change.

That is SCARY!!!!

Therefore, that brings us to something you and I cannot escape…

We are finite beings.

It’s not an excuse or a license for bad behavior. It simply is reality.

Glory, in her cat ways, is a limited being. She doesn’t know everything there is to know in the world. She doesn’t understand principles of trauma bonding or therapy. She operates from instinct and from her limited worldview, which dictates certain things, like the sock drawer, mean something significant to her. She may realize, with my husband and I, that she is loved, safe and important…to a limited degree.

Nevertheless, she will always have that sock drawer as a default setting for herself.

And we, as human beings, are not that far removed from her.

We can make strides; we can enter recovery. We can learn new strategies, make advances and become healthier.

But you and I will always be finite.

Vulnerable.

A being with limits.

It’s not an excuse. It’s an unavoidable reality.

Accepting that, not pulverizing ourselves for that, can often get us healthier in our lives.

Will it get us perfectly cured?

Nope.

Will we fail?

Yes.  

There will be stubborn issues. Some may never get resolved. We may have sock drawers that beckon us. If we heed that call, we aren’t worthless failures.

We are beings.

“Pfh-Pfh-Pfh…”

Pile of socks on the floor.

But, make no mistake about it, we possess far greater value than that occurrence. It’s evidence of a most important struggle for a most significant being.

You.

Me.

Copyright © 2022 by Sheryle Cruse