Therapeutic Thursday: Sitting on the Toilet and Other Relaxation Strategies

I hated my senior year AP English teacher, Mr. D-Bag. He was pompous, arrogant, and tried too hard to be “cool.” I guess he didn’t realize that trying to hard to be cool never works to get teenagers to like you.

Case in point: The first day of class he played Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in The Wall.” This from a man who wore tweed blazers with faux leather patches on the elbows, wore knock-off Salvatore Ferragamo loafers, and groomed his facial hair impeccably daily. And to think, I liked Vintage music and I liked that song (up until that day).

Mr. D-Bag gave us an assignment to keep a journal throughout the school year. Despite my loathsome thoughts and feelings about the guy, I was excited about this project. Why? No so much because I liked journaling, but because I loved shocking teachers, it was sort of a pastime for me.

I faithfully wrote in this journal for months. I would spend too much time most journal entries thinking of the most awful things I could to write about. There were a few days, however, the exhaustion of being 17 overcame me and I wrote whatever was really on my mind.

Imagine that scene in “The Christmas Story” when Ralphie turns in his Theme about the “Red Rider BB Gun with a compass in the stock” he wants for Christmas. Remember how he fantasizes, when he turns it into Miss Shields, about her being awe-struck by his writing ability and originality? That was I, when I excitedly turned my journal into Mr. D-Bag. Except I was imagining Mr. D-Bag would be overcome by horror and as a result, of all the horror, he would die some gruesome death.

Well, that didn’t happen. And my graded journal was returned to me a few weeks later (another case in point: who grades a journal?) with tons of his commentary tarnishing the pages.

“Every teenager feels like the world is against them. What mask do you wear?” is what he wrote next to the entry where I used the “mask” metaphor to criticized as many students in my graduating class that I could.

I did not care to be compared to those I hated nor did I care to be invalidated by a teacher I disliked.

“So true! A very original thought…I’m still laughing” is what he wrote next to the entry where I spoke about the only time I could relax in a day: on the toilet. I reasoned, in the journal entry, that one HAS to go to the bathroom everyday. And since you HAVE to go to the bathroom you can take a few minutes, all to yourself, and relax.

Do you see what I mean? Don’t you hate him now too?

This blog post really isn’t about Mr. D-Bag, however. It is about relaxation.

This morning Hippo and I completed my favorite of weekly chores: grocery shopping (I’m being serious). We love to go together. He rides shotgun and plays with produce bags and other non-breakable/perishable items while greeting strangers and store employees with a genuinely happy, “HIIIII!” while I gather the things we will eat over the next week. The produce section is our favorite section and always comes first on our route through the store. I love the produce section because the vibrant colors that come from nature are gorgeous to behold. I love the fresh aromas, all different as you pass the cilantro, the onions and garlic, the oranges and other citrus fruit, the melons, and then the apples. I love the inspiration that comes from walking through the in-season produce. After all, it’s hard to be inspired by Pasta Roni.

Today “Yukon Gold” potatoes were on the list. Why? Because they are the best. As I fingered through the assortment of Yukon Gold potatoes, being careful to choose the very best of the best, out of the corner of my eye I saw something I have never seen in a produce section before; something rare, interesting, and precious (as the cost will suggest): purple potatoes! I scrambled over to the nearest sack rack and began rapidly filling the bag with as many purple potatoes as would fit, all while reviewing the many things my family and I can enjoy with purple potatoes this week. Being curious I scanned my eyes over the prices listed above the produce beds until I found: Purple Potatoes $4.99/Lb. AHHHHHHHH! I had two pounds and there was no way I was coming home with two pounds of potatoes having spent more than $10 (after tax). So I put one pound back.

Sometime after graduating Mr. D-Bag’s AP English class I discovered a new pastime: eating. I’ve mentioned it before. I realized, quickly, that part of eating was cooking. It’s a good thing I LOVE to cook. I realized, quickly, that part of cooking was produce shopping and gardening. It’s a good think I LOVE to shop and to garden.

Eating, cooking, shopping, and gardening are extremely relaxing for me. It goes back to the same philosophy of going potty—you have to eat, therefore you have to cook, therefore you have to shop, therefore gardening is optional unless your local grocer doesn’t carry all of the things you want to eat (e.g. fennel, leaks, purple potatoes—until today—, arugula, basil—by the bundles—, farm fresh tomatoes, lemon cucumbers, etc.). Since I have to do these things, I might as well get some R&R while doing them, right?

Something else I’ve noticed, in connection with eating, is that the very most relaxing and happy parts of the day are the parts I am eating with my family—my very two favorite things in the world. It’s a time when we put down our projects, turn the television off, turn down the music, step away from our computers, leave the phones in the other room, put the toys away, and come together and enjoy good food, like purple potatoes.

We eat, occasionally, with my in-laws and I’ve noticed that their usually contention-filled home stops abruptly during family dinner. There may be fighting before dinner or after dinner, but I have never, in eight years, seen a fight erupt during dinner. This phenomenon is likely a combination of the neuro-transmitters responsible for mood stabilizing scientists know are released during eating and being distracted by eating that keeps the peace.

Isn’t that useful? Having chemical-induced happiness and innate distraction can make for some of the best and most relaxing of times with the people that matter most. Moreover, the moral of the above stories is: if you are in need of some relaxation go poop and take as much time as you want. Or, have a family dinner. Your children will thank you for it, probably much too late, but they will. Adults often forget that the very nature of childhood can be extraordinarily stressful, give your children the gift of daily relief—family dinner.

I guess I owe Mr. D-Bag gratitude for creating such defiance in me, which would lead to coming up with one of the best ideas of my life. I’ve always been paranoid he would plagiarize that idea, though.