Cleansed

 

Today was a day in which I faced a fear of mine

No, I didn’t hold a tarantula

No bungee jumping or deep sea diving

I didn’t ask that good-looking guy at the coffee shop for his number

I didn’t look at my bank account

I didn’t make it to that party or that new yoga class in an unfamiliar studio

I had a bath

I can’t remember the last time I had a bath

A few weeks ago, amidst a panic attack, a dear friend suggested I take a bath, to help calm me

Instead, I felt another rush of panic consume me

But why? Why this fear? This aversion to soaking my tired and aching self in a tub of hot water, epsom salts and lavender oil?

Because

Then I have to spend time with myself…”gulp”…naked

That’s right.

I guess it hasn’t been a fear of the actual bath itself

But a fear of facing myself

Seeing myself, my body, and all that it is today

All the lumps and bumps

Dimples and pimples

Those peaks and valleys

The many scars, bruises and silver stretch marks

The jiggly and wiggly bits

But tonight, I took all of it in, all of me

As I sunk down into the warm embrace of the water

And I survived

I didn’t drown myself, figuratively or literally

I didn’t shave or poke or pick or scrub my skin raw

I didn’t even feel ashamed

Of all that I am and Am not physically

Hell, I even enjoyed myself