Bathroom Moments

Fear not, this is not a post about excrement. (Not, you understand, that I am in any way lacking stories about poo or pee or combos of both.) Instead, it's a post about the book I was going to write a few years back. While discussing relationships with my buds around the candle we affectionately refer to as "the Penis," we discovered that each of us had experienced almost the exact same negative things when it came to relationships, career, marriage (separate from relationships), and children. It was disturbing to realize that while each of us had spent a goodly amount of time agonizing over the same things, none of us had been warned that these things might come up. A further polling of other non-"Penis"-gathering friends revealed more mirror experiences. Collectively, we said, "WTF? How come nobody warned us about Bathroom Moments?"

Time passed and I settled into my thirties and my roles in life with as much grace as possible (so did my buds.) The Bathroom Moments book was shoved to the back of my mental closet o'book ideas, crowded out by elves and haunted houses and bitter small-town newspaper writers who become obsessed with clay ponies. (Don't ask.) But yesterday, I was talking with a friend and she was detailing her reaction to a disappointment and I thought, "Holy crap. She had a Bathroom Moment."

The friendship is relatively new; we've known each other superficially for a few years and are slowly learning more about each other. I asked her, at one point, how old she was and was utterly unsurprised to learn she was approaching thirty. Suddenly, I was pissed. It is absolutely RIDICULOUS that in a time where a woman can viably run for president, there are chickies running around feeling bad about themselves because they were smacked upside the head by Truths that everybody knows that nobody talks about.

So. Below you will find, encapsulated, Not Hannah's Book of Bathroom Moments. Clip and save and share with your pals. (I have literally written these down for lots of friends before they get married or have kids or get jobs as part of shower presents.) And, please, if you've ever had a Bathroom Moment, share it with us so that we'll all know that we've been there, done that and have the bathmat marks on our knees to prove it.

1. First, the definition of Bathroom Moment: a period of extreme emotional duress during which a woman will go into the bathroom, turn on all the water, fall to her knees, and sob uncontrollably. Variations include falling on ones knees in the shower or collapsing on the toilet and/or bringing in the nearest bottle of alcohol to consume while sobbing. (It is not recommended that the woman under duress bring the bottle into the shower with her; this is a waste of good liquor and also could cause drowning.) Bathroom Moments may include long, snot-filled tirades during which one stares at oneself in the mirror and spews phrases like, "I'm trapped!", "What have I done to myself?", "I'm stuck here forever." , "I'm all alone." , or "Nobody appreciates me." It is unknown if men experience Bathroom Moments, although this might explain the long stretches of time spent "going number two."
   
2. Most newlywed women experience a Bathroom Moment within two months of being married. It is a terrible shock, as--despite countless women's magazine articles cautioning otherwise--women believe that the issues they had with their mates prior to marriage will be cured as soon as the birdseed gets flung at their heads. Unfortunately, most men seem to have believed this as well. Perhaps it is the disappointment of it all that causes those first fights that make women head for the powder room. (It is also my personal belief that many men spend the first few months of a marriage seeing just how far they can take the "head of the household" thing before their women start throwing crockery at them.) In any case, the first Bathroom Moments are spent perched on the toilet, testing out the words "divorce" and "I don't love him anymore" just to make sure they aren't true. Women freak out when the words come easily and then spend another few sobbing moments believing they are not meant to be with their shwoopie faces. Oh, lawsy, the drama and mucous-filled first Bathroom Moments. The sheer terror that wuv, twoo wuv will not fowwow you foweverrwwwrrr. The humongous waste of toilet paper...
3. Career Bathroom Moments follow. While often less tear-laden, these generally cause just as much axiety, as they are often double-whammied because the hubby has just wigged out because the wife wants to quit her job or change careers. Say it with me: It's okay to be unhappy at work. It either means that you are A: having a bad month or B: in the wrong job, and both of those instances are okay. The idea that we need to find what we're going to be doing five days a week for the next twenty-five years or so as quickly as possible and then suck it up is, in my opinion, half of what is wrong with us. The other half is that we have, as women, totally given up on the idea of being creative. I'm not talking artistic, I'm talking finding ways to use your talents and interests in a career. Not doing so will lead to Career Bathroom Moments AND Relationship Bathroom Moments, which is really waaaay too much toilet paper wasted. Seriously, if you are spending a lot of time in Bathroom Moments sobbing about your career, you might need to invest in some cloth handkerchiefs, because the next twenty-five years or so are going to be really long and I'm not sure our forests will be able to continue providing snot rags for you.
   
4. Relationship Bathroom Moments come next. It was startling to me to realize that I spent time wallowing on the bathmat after getting off the phone with friemily. They made me feel lonely or unworthy or like a bad friend or what have you and it broke me into pieces. What I realized, after a few rounds of scrubbing the tub caulk with a washcloth dampened with tears, was that my friemily didn't know the new me--the adult, married, having-a-life-outside-of-them me--and it hurt and worried and confused them. They needed to step off, my loves. Nobody who cares about a woman should ever condemn her for being a different person than she was two decades or years or days ago, unless the new person is engaging in criminal behavior. BUT--it happens. Lots and lots and lots. It is a shame, and it is antithesis of the way women (and people in general) should be for each other. And here's the fun thing: husbands suddenly jump into this category, too. Because after living exclusively with somebody for a few years, no matter how hot and heavy the sex is, spouses become friemily to each other. BONUS Bathroom Moments! Awesome.
5. Children Bathroom Moments. These are the BEST, because they cut many women to the core of what they believe a woman's purpose is (or at least, what "they" tell a woman her purpose should be.) Women have CBMs because if they hear a little one yelling, "Mooooommmmy!" one more time, their ears will spontaneously pop off and flush themselves down the toilet. They have them when they've gotten the fifth call from the school in a week or when, omaheyseuss, is that really shit all over the wall?, or when the apple-cheeked tweenager just aimed the b-word in their direction. We go to the potty refuge because of a truth that we can't admit: being a mother...sucks sometimes. It does. I know you feel guilty admitting it. I know that you feel like you have to add the rejoinder, "But it all is worth it when he gives me a kiss and says, 'You're the best mommy ever.'" Barf. I mean, honestly. It's okay not to like your kids sometimes. They're people, and I have never known a person who has brought me unblemished joy every moment I'm around them. Even the people I know with whom I've never argued have done at least one thing that made me think a not-quite-brilliantly-sunny thought. It's okay to not like being a mommy and it is REALLY okay to lock yourself in the john and scream and cry about it. (The alternative is, sometimes, unthinkable.) I don't know how we've gotten or returned to or just stayed stuck in a place where women have to somehow be uber-mommies all the time, but I am just going to stick my hand in the air and testify to the fact that not only do I sometimes not enjoy being a mother, sometimes I'm a shitty mother in the bargain. AND IT'S OKAY. I'm not always a great wife or daughter or friend or patient or employee all the time, either. If I have to go to the bathroom for some peace and a few tears because I feel sorry for myself because I'm not Betty Bleepin' Crocker and Angelina Jolie combined, so be it.
6. As one approaches the age of thirty, the Bathroom Moments come fast and furious. At some point in time, they might cease being the normal emotional respites they are and become, instead, a daily ritual of loathing and guilt. If this happens, women need to get help. They need to find somebody to talk about their unhappiness, but they also need to stop crying about it and decide if something can be done to make it better. It's hard to do this, especially if one has husbands and bosses and babies being needy in various ways. But the alternative, as I told my friend, is living in the desert by yourself with a bunch of cats.
   

I won't lie and say that the Bathroom Moments have gone away now that I'm thirty-four and in a state of relative calm. They haven't. There are still times when I find myself standing in front of the mirror and saying appalling things just to shock myself (or make myself cry harder.) Or making lists about how unhappy I am at various times. I assume that down the road, I will find myself in the middle of another emotional storm, wallowing in misery as bemoan my fate.

Great. I'm going to need a fancier bathroom.