I can’t even remember when the last time was. Honestly. I was tempted in a VRBO we were staying in for my son’s wedding a couple years back, but I don’t remember if I actually did or not. If not then, it had been at least six years or more I’ll bet. But we just finished remodeling our bathrooms and added a tub to ours. Our son has used it to ease his aching muscles from track, but I still hadn’t. Until last night. Another son and his wife had sent me a basket of scented items to use for Mother’s Day, Todd was in a long meeting downstairs, and so I was kind of just in my room. I’d worked in the yard all day and wanted to clean up anyway, plus there was my book I was halfway through. I expected to last maybe ten minutes. But I hadn’t anticipated how warm the water would stay. I’m used to porcelain tubs; this one is acrylic and holds the heat way better than anything in my past. I was there for at least an hour. I’d kind of chuckled with my friend a couple weeks back who confessed she saves her HGTV and People magazines for her baths, which she takes all the time. Fascinating, I thought. But here I was. On the same page.
But here’s what I also didn’t anticipate. What being unclothed would feel like. Being alone with myself in this state for an extended stretch of time.Probably always, but especially since I had my surgery seven years ago and as I’ve aged, I’ve just avoided looking at my body. I don’t have my contacts in early in the morning, so it’s easy to miss myself as I get out of the shower and discretely put on a robe. I don’t really come back till I’m brushing my teeth at night, so there’s no reason to really hang out in front of the mirror or to spend time lamenting how things have changed.
But here I was, faced with myself in the tub with my book. And I did the only natural thing; I found a washcloth, ostensibly to keep myself warm, but knowing I mostly just wanted to cover up. It was still slightly uncomfortable being alone with myself in this vulnerable way, and that surprised me and made me think…
That I believe we’re all a little uncomfortable with our nakedness. Not our bare skin nakedness, but being vulnerable and exposed—definitely with others, but even when we find ourselves alone, just us.
I know people who fall asleep to tv or audio books or sound machines. I’m like that too, listening to music and reading a book till I’m too tired to think anymore. Most teens and perhaps most adults drive listening to something, whether it’s a book, podcast, news, or music. Most people I see out are on their phones or have their earbuds in. Some older people I know have the tv or radio on even when they’re resting. We’ve essentially always got someone with us and are rarely alone with ourselves.
I wonder why that is and tend to think it’s mostly habitual, nearly unconscious. But I think it would be a hard tendency to change. Because what would that feel like to have to face our thoughts and what’s really going on for us? What would come up? Would we feel comfortable acknowledging our insecurities, questions, regrets, and fears? We might have to ask ourselves what we’re living for, what do we value, and are those two answers congruent? What do we believe about people and the future, are we unsettled, searching, pretending, hoping? What do we want, and is the direction we’re heading getting us there? Are we the kind of people we’d want to be a friend with? Are we living true to who we are and what we believe about ourselves? Are we avoiding making amends or taking a risk?
It’s not easy to come up with answers that are authentic and true; it takes courage to be honest with ourselves. It’s brave to turn off the world and contemplate some of the weightier matters. I’m like all of you, and most of the time would rather not deal with the heavy stuff. I’ve always liked to keep busy and plugged in (under the guise of “educating” myself). And yet, the older I get, the more comfortable I am tuning into myself and feeling the quiet. I notice myself carving out time when I refrain from inviting outside voices to have an opinion about my life. I’m recognizing I do want connection. Yes, with others, but also with my own soul and with divinity. But I’ve still got some reservations, I’m holding back in a way I didn’t recognize until last night when the bubbles dissipated. But the sensation of such warm water wrapped around me was soothingly intoxicating. I eventually melted into my nakedness and felt bathed in calm acceptance of where and what and who I am. When I finally emerged, I felt oddly out of sorts. My routine was shaken, I would normally be doing the dishes and streaming a show with Todd, reading with the kids, an everyday evening like all the others. But this zen-like experience had rewarded me with a refreshing and invigorating energy, peace, and perspective I had been missing recently and gratefully accepted. For most, it probably won’t be in a tub, but there will likely be points in life when we’ll unexpectedly find ourselves in some similar way. Will we slink from the opportunity without really seeing what’s in the mirror? Will we quickly clothe in our protective raiment and move on to everyday comfort and routine, hoping no one saw us so vulnerable? Or will we maybe lean back into the warm water and linger a bit, acclimating and eventually succumbing to the sensation of just being?
