I haven't written about pee in a while…
Don’t think about this as a post about pee.
Consider this writing about urgency and relief.
One of decisions.
I made a decision earlier in the week. The quality of this decision, I’ll leave for you to judge.
One morning, I drank coffee.
An extra coffee.
This was one decision. The quality of this decision, I’ll leave for you to judge.
That morning. I didn’t need to rush. There was no need to hurry.
Nor was there time to waste.
I needed to be efficient in order to be able to make it on time for my 9am appointment.
With this in mind
The first rule:
Pee before leaving the house.
This was another decision. The quality of this decision I’ll leave for you to judge
It’s a forty five minute walk to my office.
On this day
It seems I was living
With a thirty minute bladder.
Two thirds of the way to work, the slight rumblings that happened seven minutes sooner changed. Visions of hurricanes past danced in my head.
It was time to activate all of the internal muscles that I could connect with.
I had to pull back the pee.
I had a fifteen minute walk remaining and a bladder ready to burst.
My walk to work is not a walk in the park.
If it were the park may have a toilet. Or at least a tree.
At that moment?
A fire hydrant would have been fine.
Somewhere around the thirty seventh minute of my forty five minute walk with a thirty minute bladder, my eyes began to water. Two minutes after that, something shifted.
Things that were urgent, slightly relaxed.
A little let down of energy.
And a little wet let down went down to go with it.
This was the moment of no going back.
At this point in time. Thirty nine minutes into a forty five minute walk with a thirty minute bladder it was time to make a choice.
One of two things was going to happen. I was either going to suck it up by some small miracle and make it to my office mostly dry, or I was going to call the world to an encore performance of Urinetown - in my pants.
Five minutes left.
Going on four.
Forty one minutes into a forty five minute walk with a thirty minute bladder.
Or? Four minutes, past how many people in five below zero with piss wet pants?
My calculations were cruel indeed.
I made a decision. The quality of this decision, I’ll leave for you to judge. (at this point, I’m feeling regret. Regret and a fair bit of pain)
Every hair on my body stood on end. My skin tingled.
Everything went quiet. I kept walking
Top of the street…
Three houses left.
Open the door.
Get to the toilet.
The pee wouldn’t come.
In life things can feel overwhelmingly urgent.
We frequently fear that failure leads to shame or the discomfort of walking to work wet. The worst part of it all? Once we’re supported, it can be hard to trust that we’ve arrived and we can finally let go.
Another post about something gross.
That was a decision. The quality of that decision, I’ll eave for you to judge.
It’s like the old saying goes:
If you don’t like them apples, try the pears instead.