Bathrooms. Well, if you have to have a topic...
I kid. This is actually a good topic for a few reasons.
I talk about my disability a lot, and bathrooms are actually a sanctioned place to get away from other people and are expected to be somewhat quiet, which makes it a haven for me. I have gone into men's bathrooms on accident and on purpose, whether to make a point or to just freak people out. While I'm a deviant in the sense that I want people to think and don't mind making them uncomfortable to do so, I've been trying to do less of that. Taking out anger on strangers is useless, even if it's because you're trying to vent or express the fact that you've been uncomfortable for most of your life.
Showers and baths are the places where I do most of my thinking. Water has spiritual meaning for me, and it's where I've come the closest and the farthest away from God. It's where I've had last minute prayers of "Ohpleasedon'tletmebelatetoworkIgottago" as well as hours of meditation while my skin turns into a prune. Water is accommodating to every twist and turn, feels awesome on the skin, and can be refreshingly cold or warm. It can also carve canyons, burn by abrasion or heat, facilitate rot and necrosis, and if there's none to be found anywhere, we die in three days.
My experience with the water this morning was fairly pleasant. I stepped inside the room with all outer thoughts and garments stripped off, sighing as I turned on the hot water and lifted the latch at the bottom of the shower. I can't stand showering standing up since the spray of the shower water is about 5'8" high, and I'm 5'11".
I got in and I sat, letting my hair undulate over my skin as the water washed me down. I let myself sit there for a few minutes, thinking about my recently passed grandmother and all of the things that she meant to me. I imagined all of the stress of living a normal life washing off and going down the drain, hating the fact that I feel like I am a square peg being shoved into a round hole too tiny for all of the issues my body and heart face. I let that hatred wash away as well, letting all things pass except for who I was and that if nothing else, the water felt good. All time outside could wash away with it, for all I cared.
That's the usual feeling I get each time I'm in the shower, and I love the walls and curtain around me for blocking out all other thoughts. Sometimes I shower in the dark, and it tends to give me even more meditative experiences, able to let my senses open as far as they want without having to focus on light. It reminds me of what a primordial world must have been like at night--quiet, still, not rushed or stressed or filled with the toils of a world where the constant struggle to survive was the law. There would have been just a few floating amino acids sailing across an ocean dotted with a night sky, feeling nothing but the liquid and warmth around them.
Then, I let loose the plug, dry off, and re-illuminate myself to an electric and digital dawn of another day. I turn on the light, check my phone, and rejoin the ever-chaotic law of life.
-Amber
Also- may Lawana Kay Bell rest in peace.
I kid. This is actually a good topic for a few reasons.
I talk about my disability a lot, and bathrooms are actually a sanctioned place to get away from other people and are expected to be somewhat quiet, which makes it a haven for me. I have gone into men's bathrooms on accident and on purpose, whether to make a point or to just freak people out. While I'm a deviant in the sense that I want people to think and don't mind making them uncomfortable to do so, I've been trying to do less of that. Taking out anger on strangers is useless, even if it's because you're trying to vent or express the fact that you've been uncomfortable for most of your life.
Showers and baths are the places where I do most of my thinking. Water has spiritual meaning for me, and it's where I've come the closest and the farthest away from God. It's where I've had last minute prayers of "Ohpleasedon'tletmebelatetoworkIgottago" as well as hours of meditation while my skin turns into a prune. Water is accommodating to every twist and turn, feels awesome on the skin, and can be refreshingly cold or warm. It can also carve canyons, burn by abrasion or heat, facilitate rot and necrosis, and if there's none to be found anywhere, we die in three days.
My experience with the water this morning was fairly pleasant. I stepped inside the room with all outer thoughts and garments stripped off, sighing as I turned on the hot water and lifted the latch at the bottom of the shower. I can't stand showering standing up since the spray of the shower water is about 5'8" high, and I'm 5'11".
I got in and I sat, letting my hair undulate over my skin as the water washed me down. I let myself sit there for a few minutes, thinking about my recently passed grandmother and all of the things that she meant to me. I imagined all of the stress of living a normal life washing off and going down the drain, hating the fact that I feel like I am a square peg being shoved into a round hole too tiny for all of the issues my body and heart face. I let that hatred wash away as well, letting all things pass except for who I was and that if nothing else, the water felt good. All time outside could wash away with it, for all I cared.
That's the usual feeling I get each time I'm in the shower, and I love the walls and curtain around me for blocking out all other thoughts. Sometimes I shower in the dark, and it tends to give me even more meditative experiences, able to let my senses open as far as they want without having to focus on light. It reminds me of what a primordial world must have been like at night--quiet, still, not rushed or stressed or filled with the toils of a world where the constant struggle to survive was the law. There would have been just a few floating amino acids sailing across an ocean dotted with a night sky, feeling nothing but the liquid and warmth around them.
Then, I let loose the plug, dry off, and re-illuminate myself to an electric and digital dawn of another day. I turn on the light, check my phone, and rejoin the ever-chaotic law of life.
-Amber
Also- may Lawana Kay Bell rest in peace.
Wonderful. I agree. Water is a powerful element. Very soothing--especially the sound.
ReplyDeleteI feel for you, Amber love. Grandma's are very special people.