Reflections in the Steam

Emory hadn’t stepped out of their apartment in three weeks. The clutter had taken over—the floor covered in dirty clothes, the sink piled high with dishes, and the bathroom mirror so smudged it barely reflected back.

The voices had told them this was fine.
“Why bother cleaning? No one’s coming over.”
“You’re disgusting anyway. Cleaning won’t change that.”

At first, Emory resisted, picking up a few things here and there. But the effort felt monumental, and the voices always pulled them back. Slowly, the mess around them grew to mirror the chaos in their mind.

Part 1: The Breaking Point

One afternoon, Emory sat on the edge of their bed, staring at the wall. The sunlight streaming through the window illuminated every speck of dust, every stain on the carpet. The voices were loud today.

“You’ll never fix this.”
“You’re a failure, and everyone knows it.”
“Why don’t you just stay here forever?”

Tears pricked Emory’s eyes as they buried their face in their hands. They couldn’t remember the last time they had showered, brushed their teeth, or even looked at themselves in the mirror. The thought of getting up, of facing the mess and the voices, felt like climbing a mountain with no summit in sight.

In their haze, a text came through from their sister, Talia:
“Hey, just checking in. You okay? Want to talk?”

Emory stared at the message for what felt like an eternity before typing back:
“I don’t think I’m okay.”

Part 2: A Hand to Hold

Within an hour, Talia was at the door. When she stepped inside, her face registered shock at the state of the apartment, but she said nothing about it. Instead, she sat beside Emory and hugged them.

“What’s going on?” she asked gently.

Emory hesitated. The voices tried to stop them.
“She doesn’t care.”
“She’s just here to judge you.”

But Emory pushed through. “I… I hear voices,” they said finally. “They won’t leave me alone. And I’ve just… let everything go. I can’t even look at myself anymore.”

Talia nodded, her expression soft. “Thank you for telling me. You don’t have to do this alone, okay? Let’s take it one step at a time.”

Part 3: Facing the Mirror

The first step was a shower. It seemed like such a simple thing, but to Emory, it felt monumental. Talia handed them fresh towels and encouraged them to take their time.

Inside the bathroom, Emory turned on the water, watching the steam rise and blur their reflection in the mirror. They avoided looking at themselves directly, focusing instead on the task ahead.

As the hot water cascaded over them, something shifted. The grime on their skin began to wash away, and with it, a small part of the heaviness they had been carrying. The voices were still there, murmuring in the background, but they felt fainter, less overwhelming.

When Emory stepped out of the shower, they caught a glimpse of themselves in the mirror. For the first time in weeks, they saw not just the exhaustion, but also a spark of possibility—a hint of the person they wanted to be again.

Part 4: Small Wins

With Talia’s help, Emory began to tackle the apartment, one small section at a time. They started with the dishes, then moved on to the laundry. Each task felt like a battle, with the voices chiming in at every opportunity:
“This is pointless.”
“It’s just going to get messy again.”

But Talia countered the voices with words of encouragement. “You’re doing amazing,” she said. “Look how much better this place is already.”

By the end of the day, the apartment was still far from perfect, but there was space to breathe again.

Part 5: Building New Habits

The next morning, Emory made a small list of goals: brush teeth, wash face, clean one corner of the room. It seemed laughably simple, but completing each task brought a sense of accomplishment.

In therapy, Emory discussed the connection between their mental health and their hygiene. “It’s not just about being clean,” their therapist explained. “It’s about taking care of yourself, showing yourself that you’re worth the effort.”

Slowly, Emory began to incorporate these small acts of self-care into their routine. They set reminders to shower, to tidy up, to take moments of stillness to breathe. It wasn’t always easy—there were days when the voices were louder, when the weight of everything threatened to pull them under. But Emory had learned to see those days as part of the process, not the end of it.

Part 6: Rediscovering Self-Worth

Months later, Emory stood in front of the bathroom mirror again. This time, the glass was clean, and so was their reflection. The voices still lingered, whispering doubts and fears, but Emory had tools now—mantras, mindfulness, and the support of people who cared.

Looking at their reflection, they smiled faintly. “I’m still here,” they said aloud. The voices didn’t respond, and that silence felt like a victory.

Emory’s journey wasn’t over, but it had taken a turn toward hope. By learning to care for their body, they had begun to heal their mind, one small act of kindness at a time.

And for the first time in a long time, Emory believed in the person looking back at them.