Library
Coping & Self-Care
Writings, tools, and encouragement for the hard moments — gathered and shared by our community over the years.
Our Book Study
Learning coping skills together
Year after year, our members work through Coping with Trauma-Related Dissociation by Boon, Steele, and van der Hart, one chapter at a time. We are now on our fifth time through the book. See what each chapter teaches, from grounding and sleep to emotions, triggers, and relationships.
Grounding & Self-Care Tools
Practical tools, techniques, and small rituals that help you stay present, calm, and connected. Whether you’re feeling anxious, dissociating, overwhelmed, or just need a break, grounding and self-care can make a huge difference.
Kinds of things that help
- Sensory grounding ideas (touch, scent, sound, and more)
- Printable tools or visuals you’ve made
- Breathing techniques, affirmations, or mantras
- Gentle movement or self-regulation practices
- Self-care routines that help you feel safer or more “here”
A few ideas to get you started
5-4-3-2-1
Describe 5 things you can see, 4 you can hear, 3 you can feel, 2 you can smell, and 1 you can taste.
Cold to the touch
Hold an ice cube for 30 seconds and notice the sensation.
A safety signal
Wear fuzzy socks as a signal to yourself: “I’m safe now.”
A grounding playlist
Keep a playlist that helps you re-ground after a flashback.
A calm box or grounding journal
Gather comforting objects, pictures, and notes in one place you can reach for when you need them.
In their own words
What Helps Our Members
Grounding ideas shared by Ivory Garden members.
Barefoot in the sunshine
“Walking outside and without shoes. Staying outside for 10 minutes, especially if it’s a sunny day.”
Look at your hands
“Looking at your hands for a couple of minutes. They are not small and may even have a wedding ring on it. This means you are older now.”
Aromatherapy
“Aromatherapy is good. I like bergamot, which is supposed to be good for depression and anxiety.”
Cold water on the face
“Splashing cold water on the face — the dive reflex.”
My dogs
“My dogs are my grounding. They are always there, snuggled up close. Their fur is so soft and calming to stroke — very grounding. They are like little heaters, so warm, especially when it’s cold outside.”
My fish tank
“I also have my fish tank. Watching them swim so gracefully, drifting without a care in the world. They know when it’s feeding time and they swim up to greet me.”
“It’s the small comforts that keep me positive.”
Things that ground me
- The wind on my face, or a fan.
- Crunching ice.
- Splashing cold water on my face or neck.
- Cuddling my soft toy animals.
- A fidget toy — I always have one.
- Baroque music from a playlist.
Share what helps you. Members are welcome to post their own grounding and self-care tools on our forum — a short description, whether it’s your own creation, and content warnings if needed. Not a member yet? Apply to join →
From our Anxiety Coping Group
Understanding Defense Mechanisms
A defense mechanism is a mental process, usually outside our awareness, that protects us from conflict or anxiety. Learning to spot them can make anxiety easier to understand and cope with. This quick guide was first gathered for our Anxiety Coping Group, and it’s here for everyone.
Projection
Seeing in other people the traits we can’t accept in ourselves.
Displacement
Redirecting strong feelings away from the person who caused them toward a “safer” target.
Repression
Pushing painful memories or thoughts out of awareness without meaning to. They don’t disappear; they may show up in dreams, anxiety, or reactions to reminders.
Denial
Refusing to accept facts, feelings, or feedback that feel too threatening.
Introjection
Taking in the voice or attitudes of important people, such as an inner critic that sounds like a critical parent.
Undoing
Replaying a past event over and over, imagining a different ending, to ease uncomfortable feelings about it.
Compensation
Working hard to make up for a weakness we see in ourselves, real or imagined. When it goes too far, it’s called overcompensation.
Splitting
Seeing ourselves or others as all good or all bad, with nothing in between. It often begins in childhood when a child lives with ongoing harm.
Suppression
Choosing, on purpose, not to think about something painful (“I can’t go there”). This is the conscious cousin of repression.
Conversion
Emotional distress showing up as physical symptoms, such as numbness, weakness, or loss of sight, with no medical cause found.
Dissociation
A gap or “going away” in awareness during stress, so the mind doesn’t have to fully take in an overwhelming experience. Sudden sleepiness or heavy yawning while talking about trauma can be one sign.
Isolation
Walling a threatening thought off from everything else, often seen when a sentence trails off and the topic changes.
Regression
Going back to younger ways of feeling and behaving under stress.
Adapted for our group from “Defense Mechanisms in Psychology” at PositivePsychology.com, which has the full article with examples and research references.
Content warning
Self-Harm / Self-Injury
The writing below talks openly about self-harm. It is hidden until you choose to open it. Please check in with yourself first, and only read when you feel ready.
A companion video, “The First Cut,” is on our Videos page, also behind a trigger warning.
TW: Self-harm — “Before You Cut” (click to read)
Before You Cut
Before you make that first cut, or that next cut, please read this. I know you are hurting. I know you feel like you are exploding inside, or completely numb, and you just want to feel something—anything—to stop the chaos. But before you pick up that tool, think about what happens next.
Think about the first minute.
You feel that rush. The relief. The focus. The physical pain covers up the emotional storm in your head for a fraction of a second. You think you’ve found an answer. You think you’re in control.
Think about the next ten minutes.
The bleeding starts to slow down. You have to clean it up. You look for a towel, tissues, or bandages, trying to hide the evidence before anyone walks in. The initial rush fades, and cold, heavy reality starts to creep back in.
Think about the next morning.
You wake up, and your sheets or your clothes are stuck to the wound. Pulling them away hurts. You go to the bathroom, and you have to decide what to wear. You look at the weather. It’s warm outside, but you have to find a long-sleeved shirt, a sweatshirt, or thick pants. You start realizing you can’t wear your favorite clothes anymore.
Think about the summer.
Think about standing in the blistering heat, sweating bullets under heavy clothing because you are terrified someone will see. Think about the absolute panic that hits you when someone says, “Why are you wearing a jacket? It’s ninety degrees out.” Think about making up excuses about being cold, or having a virus, and praying they buy it. Think about skipping the beach, the pool, or hanging out with friends because you can’t wear a swimsuit.
Think about the calculations.
Think about the constant, exhausting mental math you have to do every day. How do I position my arms? How do I reach for that item on the top shelf without my sleeve slipping down? What if a doctor needs to check my blood pressure? What if I get into an accident and they have to cut my clothes off in the ER? You become a prisoner to your own secret.
Think about the supplies.
Think about standing in the aisle at the drugstore, counting your change, buying gauze, medical tape, and antiseptic. Think about hiding that box in the back of your closet or under your bed like it’s contraband. It isn’t a temporary fix anymore; it has become a full-time, secret job.
Think about the scars.
Wounds heal, but scars stay. They stay for months, for years, for decades. They will be there when you go to job interviews, when you get married, when you hold a child, or when you are just trying to live a normal day thirty years from now. Every time you look down, you will be reminded of this exact darkness.
Think about the guilt.
The relief lasted for sixty seconds. The shame, the hiding, the lying, and the self-hatred will last for weeks. You didn’t fix the pain; you just added a brand-new problem on top of it.
Please, drop the tool. Just for ten minutes. Take a breath. Go get a glass of water, put on a song, step outside, or scream into a pillow. You don’t have to live in this prison. You are worth more than the marks you are making on your skin.
More coming soon
We’re gathering more coping tools, grounding ideas, and encouragement from our community to share here.
If you’re struggling right now, you don’t have to wait. Find immediate crisis support →
