Soomething I Need to Get Out

Today I Hate: Pain. Why? Fuck off.
Today I Love: Air conditioning. Why? Not hot.

  Yesterday is a day I will write about another day but today is a day I will write about right now.

  I awoke to a Belgian draft horse leaping straight at me. Not a real one, mind you, but the large poster of one I have hanging above my bed. A corner of it had come loose and I am now thoroughly convinced that my posters are in cahoots with any airflow in my room and together they are trying to drive me insane.

  I will not talk about the next couple of hours as it pertains to yesterday which I still do not want to write about today. Instead I will skip ahead to my early morning constitutional. It started out fine but about three minutes into it my bowels--having refused to empty themselves when I politely asked them to this morning--decided that my walk was the ideal time to do so. This isn't at all unusual; because of the stress I am under constantly when I do something that relaxes me a little--such as going for a walk--it relieves enough tension for my digestive system to remember what it is it was supposed to have been doing this entire time. However, on this particular morning since I didn't actually crap myself I continued walking. I had not been able to leave the house at all the day before and I was going to take advantage of this cool early morning. This walk Meant Something To Me, goddammit, and I was going to Make It Count.

  About halfway through my walk after having traversed two mildly steep hills my bowels decided they were very angry with me for not having listened to them earlier. Too late too do anything practical about it (unless you count shitting in a rich neighbor's yard to be practical) I ignored them again. If my bowels wanted to hold it all in for days then they could surely stand to do so a bit longer. I wouldn't normally be so awful to my body but having been cooped up and in pain nothing was going to stop me from getting out. I was Committed.

  I kept walking. About this time my hemorrhoids (one of the many benefits of stress and the on-off constipation and diarrhea it causes) got extremely disgruntled and complained:
"What? Really? You're going to make us deal with this shit?"
I promptly told them to fuck off, deal with the hand they've been dealt and pushed onward. Regardless of the pain I was causing myself I had Invested Too Much in this walk and no way was I going to Give Up On It Now.

  I did, thankfully, make it back to my house without shitting myself and so reveled in the relief of being able to crap, something I find most people take very much for granted.

  After all, It's The Little Things That Count.
  (Right?)

  That said, I must now say that denying my bowel movements in the very same way/mindset most people use to justify their abusive and self-destructive relationships is most definitely not healthy.

  My asshole deserves better than that.