I.C.U.P.

 

Thanks for being patient with me, friends, as I’ve been AWOL for yet another week. I’m feeling a weird amount of guilt for not writing which kind of seems silly, like feeling guilt for not running off at the mouth when I don’t have anything interesting to say. Truth is that I’ve been working through some things, so I HAVE actually been writing. But it’s too messy to share. Besides, if you read about what’s really going on in my brain, you’d probably all run for the hills.

I am having some feelings that I know are important to address, but they are WAY DEEP INSIDE and it’s taking some work and time and energy even to identify what is going on. My mind is feeling all swirly, and I’m feeling a TINY bit overwhelmed.

Remember when we used to have to “defrag” our computers to make more space in our hard drives? That’s what I feel like is going on in my noggin these past few weeks. Kind of identifying shit that isn’t serving me and deleting it to make more space for more healthy thoughts and ideas.

I saw a woman pooping this past week. You would think that would crack me ALL the way up, but it made me pretty mad. And then the anger stuck with me for DAYS, because I have a problem with anger and WHY THE HELL DID THAT MAKE ME MAD??

This happened in the locker room at the gym, of course. I was entering a stall when I saw a woman pooping. I was completely startled.

She just SAT THERE and said, “Excuse me,” like an innocent old lady asking for directions to the library.

I’m pretty sure that I got mad because I had heard this EXACT SCENARIO play out just a few days before. I heard someone startle and say, “Oh, I’m so sorry!” and this same woman cordially saying, “I couldn’t get this door to latch.” IT’S NOT HARD.

I avoid this woman because she seems to talk indiscriminately and loudly to just about everyone, and I have very little patience for small talk. She’s also one of those folks who sits naked on the stools without putting down a towel and that sight leaves me disconcerted for days. I might just have to lie down and take a nap right now just thinking about it.

I notice this woman in yoga because it seems that she consistently picks the spot RIGHT NEXT to me. And she makes excessive grunting noises. Plus it’s almost like she’s in a different class altogether, because she assumes postures completely different from what the rest of the class is doing. Not that there’s anything wrong with doing your own thing, but it’s just weird. Like, why come to a group fitness class and then just do your own thing?

One time she was right behind me during one yoga class when we moved into a spinal twist and I heard a loud and alarming gurgling sound. I was three hundred percent certain that she just blew chunks right there in the middle of class, and I turned around to make sure she was OK. I fully expected to see her cookies tossed all over her yoga mat.

It took about one second for me to realize that nobody else in class was fazed, including the barfing woman! There she was, casually rolling onto her side.

One more second later I realized that she hadn’t hurled but rather passed a particularly deep and resounding fart. And now I felt like a jerk for turning around and acknowledging that profound pooter.

The first rule of farting in yoga class is THE FART NEVER HAPPENED. While I fight to rein in my giggles and reestablish inner focus, everyone else politely lets it pass (so to speak). But THIS ONE? If she didn’t hork, she definitely shit her pants. It was a challenge to bring my mind back to my breath when I was reluctant to breathe very deeply if at all.

So I guess this woman had already kind of ambushed me several times before I saw her pooping the other day with her loud talking and naked sitting and yoga sharting. I felt kind of assaulted.

It reminds me of one time I was sunning myself on the roof in college and felt tiny rocks hitting me. When I looked up, there was a naked man standing on the roof of the building next door, tossing pebbles at me to get my attention. I don't think I've ever heard of female flashers, and maybe leaving bathroom stall doors open is the feminine way of tossing pebbles.

After I saw her pooping, the woman approached me while I washed my hands, telling me she was sorry for scaring me and how she has trouble locking the stall doors. But I was pissed and didn’t acknowledge her. I’ve been working on boundaries and processing anger and this loud, naked-sitting, sharting, pooper-flasher just pushed all my buttons at the same time and short-circuited my brain.

Do you have any secrets for holding boundaries with people who seem to make it their jobs to violate them? Thanks for being patient with me, friends. And thank you for reading!