Confessions of a Bath Addict
September 17, 2016, 12:39 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

I take a lot of baths.

I take them for many different reasons; sometimes my body hurts, sometimes my head hurts, sometimes my heart hurts. Things may seem too heavy, life may seem too loud, I may have too many emotions stuck inside of me. It doesn’t matter. I take a bath.

I sit in impossibly hot water, lower myself slowly under, leaving only my nose and mouth dry. I close my eyes and the world is gone. All I can hear is my own pulse, thumping at a steady and reassuring rate. I lift myself back up and sit reclined for some time, looking down over my body; my ever changing body. Things are distributed differently, there is a new freckle on my hip bone, the silver white scar from labor shoots across my pelvis like a comet.

(I always feel strange about that scar. Do other mothers do, as well? I don’t like touching it. It is still numb certain places around it. Sometimes it triggers a certain kind of PTSD. I do like looking at it, though. I like how it starts off as a straight line, but then veers up towards my navel; perfectly flawed for a girl like me. )

I’ll sit up, bend my knees and place my forehead on them, the slope between my nose and forehead fitting perfectly with my knee cap, like a puzzle piece. I sit there very still, eyes closed. I am lonely. I have no shortage of love, that isn’t it. It’s not about missing what I have but cannot get to, it’s about missing something that I have never even seen. I haven’t seen a lot of things, I doubt I ever will. Some people are meant to stay where they are and do their best with what’s around them. I sit in the bath, the water growing colder, and try to think if I am making the best of what’s around me. Sometimes “yes”, sometimes “no”, most days “maybe”.

In this tub, in this porcelain coffin, I live through all of the lives I thought I would have. In this balled up position, I mourn those lives. “Perhaps next time around,” I’ll think to myself. Sometimes I cry, sometimes it all floods out and I sob. I feel safe there, bent over the water. My body wrings my heart and soul out and the tears disappear into the water around me, gone forever.

Once the exorcism is complete, I let the plug out and step over the ledge onto the floor, water pooling around my feet as I watch my fears, my aches, my regrets spiral down the drain.

I am alarmingly mortal again, damp and cold and resolved for the time being.


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