Liberated!

I have managed to spring free from the abyss! That little "cold"? Well it was a nasty respiratory infection that took (and is still taking) its sweet ass time to leave! I'm getting better though. It was made a bit more challenging by the absence of migraine meds. I have kicked them finally and I am now hiding in the shadows hoping the migraine monster can't find me. The migraine meds seemed to have affected my hormones in a terribly way though and my period has run away with every other hormonal symptom it could cram in its nasty little pocket. Oh well. I am sure that both Auntie Flo and my wonderful monster will find me soon and life will go on being painful and teetering on the edge of unbearable once more....But anyhoo, on to the post....


Recently, my mother and I took an opportunity to work in our community's "Care Kitchen." A local church has set up a program to feed hungry families once a week in our community and a network of churches throughout town volunteer once a month to come in and help serve and work with them. We had a wonderful time of course and I saw several children from the classes I work with. It was a very difficult thing to see some of my kids at school coming with their families to eat there. I'm happy to know they have a safe place and a warm meal though even if it is once a week.

After we had finished serving and the other team had moved in to clean up, I quickly made my way out of the dining area to hunt down a bathroom.

The church that we were at happens to be where I went to day care as a little girl. During that time my grandfather was helping build a kitchen (the very kitchen we worked in that night) onto the back of the church. He would often come through for a drink of water or whatnot (often in my four year old memory mind you! He probably only did this a couple of times) and I would get to see him.

We had this matronly rather strict teacher at the time and after lunch each day we would all line up to go potty and then lie down on these green cots for nap time. Toilet time was frustrating though. This teacher would insist we all use three squares of toilet paper. She would occasionally peep in to make sure you did as you were told. I hated it! I never felt I got that clean tushie feeling with only three sand papery grade squares!

Being the rebel that I was at the time, I ventured out occasionally and used four squares just to spite her. One of those days, I happened to get caught and berated for my gluttonous use of squares. I was angry and I sulked on my cot for the remainder of the afternoon. I remember my grandfather coming in and asking me what was wrong. I told him and he just laughed and informed me that as long as I was at day care I would just have to make do with three squares and get over it.

It has stuck with me for years! To this day I use an overabundance of paper on my tush. I will admit, I turn off lights, and faucets to conserve. I recycle my cans and paper at work, but I Arian, use a great deal of tp. It is a complex derived from that day and every time I go to do my "business" I think about that grumpy old lady looking down at me as my feet dangle with a wad of paper guiltily held in my hand.

So anyway, on this night that I was hunting down a bathroom, I made my way out into the hallway and followed a sign that pointed me in the right direction. I found myself in a miniature room painted with bright cheery colors. It felt oddly familiar and I instinctively reached for a door that I knew would be the restroom. Sure enough, there it was. There was no lock on the door and so I reached out as I sat upon the seat to hold the door. All of a sudden, I was four years old and my feet dangled! This was the very bathroom that had caused me my complex so many years before!

I sat there a moment taking it all in, and then.... I did what any mature adult would do. I grinned, pulled off a wad of squares any kid would be proud of and flushed it right down! As I pulled up my pants and made my way back to the other side of the church I felt a bit lighter in step! I had been freed! How many times are we allowed to go back and claim justice on a wound of childhood? Very rarely and I am going to take full advantage every chance I get!