Breather Post: Showers of Mindfulness

 

I turn the 90’s fake diamond knob to 11 o’clock and let it come to temp. I like the water hot, much warmer than my husband would ever care to shower in. While I wait, I walk back out of the bathroom to grab my pajamas. 

 

Ever since I became a mother I began taking my showers late in the night. Even as the kids grew old enough to not need constant supervision, I continued the same bedtime routine. I valued that time to unwind from the day, to relax, and to think, seemingly detached from the world on the other side of my bathroom door.  

 

For the majority of my childhood, I shared a bedroom with my brothers. It started with only my older brother and myself. He’s 18 months older than me so there was never a time when he was not there. By my eighth birthday, I had gained two more brothers who also contended for my space. We lived in a two-bedroom apartment which meant there weren’t many places I could retreat to if I wanted to be alone. 

 

Things that I could call my own? My bed, my nightstand, my dresser, and usually about fifteen minutes of shower time in the bathroom each day.

 

The shower was a space where my mind and emotions could be free. No one to see, no one to hear, no one to judge, no one asking questions. Freedom. Even now, I still consider it to be a beacon of privacy for me; just as I did when I was younger. 

 

I savor this rare point in my day when I can find a reprieve from chores and demands. 

 

I can’t do laundry in the shower. 

I can’t wash the dishes. 

I don’t answer other’s questions or respond to emails in the shower. 

I can’t teach a Math lesson.

Can’t answer the phone. 

Can’t vacuum. 

 

I could go on.

 

My children have learned, that after a couple hundred attempts of yelling at me through my bathroom door, I always respond the same way, “I can’t hear you. You’ll need to wait until I’m out.” I’m not lying. I can never make out their muffled words, and I’m not super mad about that.

 

Bathing is as basic as self-care can get, but it’s still self-care. When I stand under the showerhead I’m required to slow down what I can produce or achieve, and just take care of me. 

 

This is exactly why I chose this place to practice the mindfulness exercises my therapist recommended. I hadn’t researched or looked into what the practice of mindfulness consisted of before this point, so I was intrigued to find out. This wasn’t some kind of New Age tactic, was it?

 

Mindfulness, summed up, is about being fully present wherever you are. It’s paying attention to what your senses are taking in. What do you smell? What do you see? What can you hear? Etc. It’s about taking in your surroundings and being fully immersed in the experience of whatever environment you find yourself in.

 

Practicing mindfulness can promote a series of benefits, from emotional regulation to a reduction in anxiety and stress. If you’re interested in learning more about it, you can visit Mayo Clinic’s website for more information on this topic.

 

It’s not rocket science. It makes sense if you think about our generation’s current crisis of constantly being pulled away from whatever is right in front of us. Much of our lives are being lived in a digital space instead of our physical one. Smartphones in all of their convenience and pleasure have given us content to laugh at, cry with, and even do some deep thinking, but it often robs us of our awareness of what is happening all around us. 

 

Finding a place of quiet so that I could focus made the shower a natural choice to begin my new exercises. 

 

I slide the glass door to the right and step into the shower. I check the water one last time and walk into the waterfall of droplets. The heat hits my head and trickles down. I say a quick prayer of thanks for the warmth that encompasses me. I’ve never visited a country where I wasn’t able to control the temperature of my bath water, but I know they’re out there, which is why I won’t ever stop being grateful for our water heater.

 

Sometimes I can still smell the soap of the family member who has washed before me, but not this time. I pour a generous-sized pearl-colored shampoo onto my hand and start lathering it through my hair. It’s not enough. It never is. I give the bottle another squeeze and hope it’s sufficient to cleanse the rest of my thick long hair. 

 

The steam is clinging to the shower doors and droplets of condensation are sprinkled about. I take a deep breath and try to attune to the scent that is nestled into my hair. I can smell coconut, for sure. I don’t mind it as a fragrance, but I hate the taste of it. 

 

Now and then, my brain trails off to think about what’s weighing on my heart. I forget about my foam-covered head and stare at the four by four off white tiles that surround me. I’m pretty sure they’re supposed to be bright white, but they aren’t anymore. Remodeling our bathroom is on the to-do list, but it’s pretty far down the priority trail at this point.

 

I bring myself back to focus.

 

I draw the top of my head back towards the streams of water and wait until my hair is rinsed of the tiny white bubbles and no longer feels slippery. I wring the ends of my hair out and hear the collection of water hit the shower floor as if to say, “Splat!”

 

I grab my conditioner. It’s a tall, bright blue bottle with a strong tropical smell. It attempts to slip through my fingers while I slather it over the shafts of my locks, being careful not to waste any.

 

I pause to let my thoughts wander a little more. Many times a word, a phrase, or a question will cycle around and around in my head. Sometimes, I use my pointer finger to spell it out on the fog-covered doors. Much like a prayer being offered up, this helps me release what I’m feeling in the moment, and move on..

 

My waning energy reminds me that it’s nearly bedtime and that I need to wrap things up.

 

My body wash bottle is a large white rectangular container with a hand pump. I use one hand to push the top nozzle down and watch the soap fill my hand once again. The label says it’s supposed to smell like “Lilac and White Tea”. I’m not usually a fan of lilac-scented toiletries, but for some reason, I don’t mind it at all. In fact, it’s the second time I’ve purchased this body wash, which means I haven’t gotten tired of it yet.

 

After I finish cleaning my feet, my tired body argues with the part of me that isn’t ready to face the cool air on the other side of my humid bubble. My exhaustion wins. I reach through the water and turn the knob to the right until it’s completely off. I step out onto an ivory-colored bath mat and grab an olive green towel with tassels, completing my routine.

 

Have you ever practiced mindfulness? Where is a place you would like to try it? What are some things that you think our senses have missed as technology continues to advance? Why do you think it helps with stress and anxiety?