(All artwork is original by me)
Everybody cries. Everybody needs someone to love them. And everybody poops.
That's just a fact.
The problem with that fact is bathrooms. I have a problem with bathrooms. I hate them. Very much. Extremely a whole lot very much.
When you first learn to use a toilet, it can be a time of calm, a time of patience, a time of pride, or a time of shame. It all depends upon the adults way of "training" you and their reaction to your behaviours, your accidents, and your successes.
Growing up, our bathroom door didn't close. So it was always open a crack. There was always privacy, but with an implied invitation to enter because of the crack in the door. No one ever invaded my privacy. Ever. And yet, the possibility was always present.
When I was 4, we were living on a working farm for the summer. The adults were out in the fields. And the other children were very mean. There was an outhouse. I needed to poop. Badly. And I couldn't find any adults to take me to the outhouse. I don't know if the kids were outside, or if they were just being their usual mean selves and refusing to tell me. Either way, I didn't know where the outhouse was and didn't have help to find it.
I guess I was an innovative and resilient four year old because I found a jar in the kitchen and pooped into it.
Now I don't remember how I felt about the incident at the time. Knowing how I feel now about bathrooms, I can only imagine that I felt shame.
Humiliation.
When I was young, my cousin L used to spend every weekend at my house. We would share a bed and she would tell me scary things. Like that witches were going to come out of the cupboard and cut off my chin. And that worms and spiders were going to climb out of the ceiling.
In our bathroom with the door that wouldn't close, there was a hole in the ceiling instead of a vent. To this day I have absolutely no idea what it was for. Anyway, L told me that when you flush the toilet, a hand comes out of the hole, into the toilet, and scoops up your waste. The result of this story was that for several years I would flush and run. Terrified of the monster.
As I got older, I knew intellectually that there was no such thing as monsters. And that L's story didn't make any sense. But there was still this tiny part of me that was scared. So I continued to flush and run.
Around the time I was 5, I was at a convention with my grandmother. We went into the public bathroom together and sat side by side in the stalls. I looked at the floor and noticed her pantyhose around her ankles. It was off-putting. Gram was sacred. She wasn't supposed to be vulnerable like that. And then the inevitable happened ... She farted and then pooped. POOPED!!! Right beside me in the next stall. My grandmother, who I had put on a pedestal, pooped. She was human. That's the moment I realized that everyone does it.
As a kid, I went to "school" in someone's home. This meant private bathrooms. I always got to pee alone. But I have lots of memories of being in the bathrooms with other people - with my friends, with my teachers. I also got my period when I was 10. That's early. I have a disorder that affects my menstrual cycle. It's called PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome). So when I was young, my flow was exceptionally heavy. But since I never told anyone anything that was going on with me, whether it was emotional or physical, I didn't tell my mom anything about it. She would buy me pads for "teens" which were smaller and less absorbent. And I would be the grade 4 kid in the bathroom at school stuffing her underwear with toilet paper to soak up what would have gone right through the pad. I also clogged the toilet several times because of how much toilet paper I went through.
Mortifying.
When I left the homeschool and entered the public school system, the bathroom became a blessing and a curse. I used the bathroom as a refuge from the bullies. I would lock myself in a stall and put my feet up so that no one could find me before school, at recess, and at lunch. But suddenly, I had to pee with other girls in the room. Hearing me. This was not good. At all. The idea of someone hearing me pee overwhelmed me. I would sit on the toilet and wait for someone to turn on the sink, or the hand dryer. Or I would just sit there waiting for everyone to leave.
This got more difficult in high school where there was more bathroom traffic. There were always girls at the mirrors when I had to pee. I physically can't pee when there is anyone else around (except DP). So, I learned that if I plugged my ears and sang twinkle twinkle little star in my head, the pee would come out in public. I can't lie ... I still do that now.
For as long as I can remember, I have had nightmares about bathrooms. In these dreams, I am always looking for a bathroom to use but I have to go through mazes and tunnels and secret doors and under walls and then when I finally get to a bathroom, it's broken, or dirty, or plugged up, or overflowing, or the door won't close, or there IS no door, or there are people in the bathroom and I can't use it. I never dream about a clean bathroom. Or a useable bathroom. Sometimes I dream that I do sit down on a toilet to use it. But there are people around me watching so I can't actually use it. Most often it is men who are watching.
These dreams creep me out. Sometimes they really upset me. There are many different schools of thought on dream analysis. You can even google the meaning of objects and themes in dreams. I believe that images in dreams are specific to the dreamer. I think that my dreams are about several things, depending on what my brain is trying to sort out. Sometimes I think I am dreaming about shame. Deep shame. Sometimes I think there is something that I am keeping inside that needs to come out - like an emotion or something I am not saying out loud. In any case, I imagine that these dreams will be with me for many more years.
There was one day about 5 years ago that I was using a private bathroom at work. No worries there. It was away from anyone else. Private. Quiet. No chance of being heard. No reason to feel anxious. For some reason or another, the caretaker had given his keys to a student who was taking out the recycling. This boy was fooling around and running away from the other children on the recycling crew. He tried the door of the bathroom and it was locked. So he used the key, opened the door, closed the door behind him and crouched down inside the room with me. WHILE I was sitting on the toilet. It was awful. I screamed in panic and he ran out the door. I began to shake. I couldn't catch my breath. I felt like my ribs were being crushed. When I could finally breathe again, I began to sob.
Sitting on the toilet with your pants down doing one of our society's most private act is when you are at your most vulnerable. Mainstream porn has all sorts of sex acts that are shared and watched by many. But bathroom stuff? That's way more private and shameful than sex.
I have never felt that way before. Or since. I felt violated. I never wanted to see that boy again. (Un)fortunately, children are still growing and learning. They make mistakes. And hopefully learn from them. So he was consequenced, never given the keys again, and I had to see him in the hallway everyday for the next two years. It was uncomfortable. Awful really.
Recently I experienced my worst nightmare!!
Nosy Nora moved from an office with a single bathroom to an office with a public bathroom. From day one I became anxious that at some point we would end up in the bathroom together. My worst nightmare. I don't know quite exactly for sure what the issue is. But the idea of hearing Nosy Nora pee or worse, her hearing me pee ... well for some reason it is mortifying. JT gets it. Totally understands. I really can't explain it.
In any case, whenever I use the bathroom at the office, I first check to see if Nosy Nora's shoes are in the waiting room. If they are, then I know that it's safe to use the bathroom. If they aren't, then I wait. However, the other day I had to pee really badly. Her shoes weren't there, but I was desperate. I checked the bathroom and it was empty so I went into the stall. As I was sitting there, someone walked in. I looked at the shoes under the door, as I always do, to see what kind of shoes they were. Usually they are high heels which is safe because I know it's not her. This time, although they weren't high heels, I didn't recognize the shoes so I figured it was no big deal. So I used the toilet (while plugging my ears and singing twinkle twinkle little star in my head), flushed, washed my hands and went back to the waiting room.
One minute later, in walked Nosy Nora WEARING THOSE SHOES!!!!!!!!!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
SHE HEARD ME PEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear and never see her ever again! Ever!!
Bathrooms. I hate them.
At work, there are three choices of bathrooms: a private one in a classroom where the kids and teacher can hear you, a private one in the hallway where anyone walking by can hear you, or a public one that is quiet and secluded IF no one else is in there.
Every time I need to use the bathroom I need to weigh my options and decide what is the least uncomfortable. The least embarrassing.
It's not an easy decision to make.
I know that all of this sounds trivial. I have a good life. I don't have to worry about land mines. I don't have to worry about soldiers. I once had a student from Nigeria. He was 8. His favourite thing about moving to Canada was that when he went to the market, he never had to hide under stalls to escape the men with machetes ...
So being afraid of bathrooms seems rather ridiculous.
Yet it is my reality.
I hate bathrooms.
A lot.
Very much a lot.
Extremely very much a lot.
Super extremely very much a lot.
Yep.
Be kind to yourself.
xoxo
...
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