A Straw Made of Bubbles

November 20, 2013

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bath

There are many things that could have made me cry in the last few days.

The 40-min car ride that ended in excruciating pain,
Having to cancel lunch with old friends I miss due to my back,
Missing being with Leah at Mitzvah Day,
Missing Benjamin’s soccer tournament where he blocked two goals like a little goalie boss,
Being really disappointed by my congregation’s leadership. Again.
An insensitive text,
Being of exactly NO help in my house right now,
The fact that my job ends Friday,
Spending hours trying to decipher private insurance plans,
Knowing it will be a month before I will get any relief for my back pain,
Thinking of postponing Paris,

But it wasn’t until I realized I couldn’t physically take a bath tonight that something finally cracked.

It’s really dumb, in the scheme of things. I mean, I know there are people with much larger problems on their plates, much heavier issues, much more painful heartbreaks.

I ask a lot in many arenas. I deliver a lot, too. But I don’t ask for much in the way of coping mechanisms. I don’t binge eat, I don’t do drugs, I don’t get drunk, I don’t maniacally shop.

I take a long bath.

Every night.

Without fail.

I do this so that when all those things above happen in the course of four or five days, I can sit, in peace and heat and bubbles and lavender and weightlessness and carefully consider them – and how best to handle them. To create a plan, to release those weights, and to spend a few minutes with a good book or my Twitter feed or an article and just BE. To be by myself. To hide. To remember. All or some or any combination of those reasons.

Because when I get out of the bath, they are not with me. I am better.

But tonight I can’t be better because I cannot physically either sit or be suspended in the water right now because it hurts my back too much. Tonight, I just really needed my coping mechanism, my routine, but I couldn’t. And that? Was enough. Was too much.

And so now, Universe, I’m asking for a break. I know for the next month things are going to be uncomfortable, but I’d really, really like to be able to get back in the bathtub. Please.

Please.

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