After the Shower

I got out of the shower yesterday and joked-”Now I have to stare at the ceiling for ten minutaes and have an existential crisis.”

It was one of those jokes that isn’t really a joke. You know the kind.

I sat there towel wrapped and freshly washed, thinking about every version of myself I never followed through on. The one who didn’t get overwhelmed. The one who said the thing. The one who made the call, hit submit, took the risk.

And then something surprising happened. He sat beside me, quiet for a second, and said it made him think too- about the things he used to dream about he was younger. What he though life would look like by now. What he’s proud of. What still aches. What he let go of. What let go of him.

It was quiet, but heavy. Two people sitting there, a little damp, a little raw, remembering who they used to be and wondering if they’re still allowed to become.

It’s strange how something as simple as a shower can rinse off the day but stir up the decade.

But we got up. And we’re still here. That has to count for something.

Sometimes the messiest moments are the ones that make us most honest- with ourselves, with each other. If you’ve ever sat there post shower, post meltdown, post numb scroll and asked,” Where would I be if i actually did all the things I wanted to?”- you’re not alone. This space isn’t about shame.