Cooking Failures

Tag: mental-health

  • I Was His Fuhst Cwush

    So, if you just randomly happen to meet me and we strike up a conversation, you might think I sound normal. It depends on what we’re talking about because if the topic has a lot of the letter R in it, then you’ll probably be thinking, “she sounds a little weird.”

    But, I’m also very good at racking my brain to find an alternate word that doesn’t have an R in it, and I will use that one instead. I’m like a walking thesaurus that way. Because unfortunately, I cannot say my R sounds.

    I’ve never been able to say my R sounds. Which is really really unfortunate seeing how my parents named me, Brita Schrager. Could there be any more Rs in that name? Could it be any harder to say? What were they thinking??? Did they hate me and want to ruin my life???  No, they probably just thought I would be able to say the R sound like every other person in the whole wide world!!

    When I was little and I couldn’t say my Rs, in my mind I was saying Brita, but the rest of the world heard Bwita. I remember a good friend kept calling me Bwita and, one day, I got so frustrated and looked at her and screamed, “Why are you calling me Bwita? My name is Bwita!”

    She just kind of looked at me and said, “OK, Bwita,” and then just kept being my best friend.

    I was so thankful when I got married and could finally drop that last name and all its Rs for a name with no Rs in it. It was so nice! Although, there was still that pesky first name that I had to deal with.

    I often practice saying my name out loud because, eventually, I will have to introduce myself to someone. Sometimes I practice just skirting past the R super quickly and other times I practice over pronouncing it. Like, really emphatically. I still haven’t figured out the best method. I still don’t know how to introduce myself. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.  I get all sweaty and nervous when I have to introduce myself like I am about to compete in the Olympics or something. Not that I have ever competed in the Olympics, but I think it would make someone really really nervous.

    It was a good thing once the water filter came out because that’s how people understand my name. I say it and then they say it and sometimes they ask, “like the water filter?”  Phew, then I can relax because now they know my name and will not ask me to repeat it. If I can’t say it right the first time I most likely won’t be able to say it right the second time!

    Sometimes they’re confused and they want me to repeat it, but instead of repeating it and butchering my name again I just say, “like the water filter!” And then there’s often pretty good smiles, and nods because everybody knows the Brita water filter. Or at least they used to. Are they still popular?

    I had a boyfriend in high school who would cut out every Brita water filter ad he saw in magazines or in the newspapers and stuff. I thought it was pretty adorable.

    Recently, I got a message on Facebook from an old friend from elementary school. I don’t think I’ve seen this friend in 20 years. He told me he was going to be in Wilmington for the weekend and, if I still live there, would I like to meet up for brunch? I said absolutely.

    This boy was actually my first crush. It started when I was in third grade. I saw him across the room in music class, and I absolutely fell in third grade love. Ah third grade love is the best! Nothing like real love at all. I think I’ll go searching for some third grade love.

    No, nothing ever came of it though because I was painfully shy all through elementary school and middle school. I couldn’t even talk to a boy. I knew he had a crush on me too, but I guess he was shy also. There was also another girl who kind of claimed him and cornered me in the bathroom and made me promise not to like him. I was scared of confrontation, so I said OK. I guess we will never know what could have been with this third grade love. 

    Anyway, here we are meeting up for brunch more than 40 years later. The conversation starts off all cute and sweet about how we used to have a crush on each other. We were chosen to play Mary and Joseph in the eighth-grade Christmas pageant. It was total honor, not only because they were the best and most-coveted roles, but also because we were both chosen. Like it was meant to be. Except it wasn’t because I was still too shy to talk to him.

    He was talking about how we had to pose for pictures at the end and his hand was on my shoulder. He told me his hand was so sweaty and he was so nervous that I could feel how sweaty his hand was. I, on the other hand, was wondering if my shoulder was too bony. I spent that night in bed rubbing my hand over my shoulder trying to decide if it felt like a regular shoulder or not.

    Eight grade Christmas Pageant. I’m Mary in the center left in the blue dress with my crush, who was Joseph, behind me in the red. He’s all cute and smiley and I look bored to death. Here’s a little trip down memory lane for all you St Anthony friends who read my blog. (Photo was shared by my crush when I told him about the blog)

    Our brunch conversation turned to our lives and college. I was telling him how I majored in communication sciences disorders, which is speech pathology. And he says, totally sincerely, “Oh, did you major in speech pathology because of your own speech impediment?”

    Oh my gosh, I thought I was going to die of embarrassment.

    I said, “NO! But thank you for bringing that up!”

    Then he said. “No problem, Bwita.”

    Then he told me a funny story, but he prefaced it with, “Don’t get mad, OK?”

    First of all, how could I get mad at him? I had a crush on him in third grade, have not seen him in almost 20 years. What could he possibly have done to make me mad? Also, I don’t get mad.

    He said that, recently, he was digitizing his schoolwork (who does that?), and he came across an essay he had written in high school. He was supposed to write a paper about his first crush, and so he wrote about me. And he told me that this is how he described me in his paper,

    She’s cute, and shy, and she can’t say her Rs, like Elmer Fudd. 

    Like Elmer Fudd???? Oh my gosh, I wanted the ground to swallow me up right then! I was so embarrassed! But, also, it was the funniest thing I have heard in a long time.

    Elmer Fudd, patron saint of those who can’t say their R sounds.

    I said, “ I mean….. you didn’t want to leave that part out? Didn’t I have more redeeming qualities? Nothing more memorable?”

    He said, “I said you were cute.”

    Good point. You’re redeemed.

    But, we laughed and laughed. I mean, even with my speech impediment, guys still liked me. Or at least this one did.

    I did have years of speech therapy. Therapists would show me how to position my tongue, and I never could get it right. Why is the R sound so hard? The therapist told my mom to write “USE GOOD R SOUNDS,” on note cards and tape them up all over the house so I would see them and remember to use good R sounds. How is reading a card that says USE GOOD R SOUNDS going to make me use good R sounds? I just can’t say them! Do they think I’ll be speaking and then I’ll see that card and I’ll stop and I’ll twirl and twist my tongue around and I’ll place it right behind my front teeth and I’ll try to say R and it will come out perfectly because I read a stupid card??? There was one taped to the bathroom mirror and I remember being mad at it every time I brushed my teeth.

    My poor little sister has the same speech impediment because she learned to talk by listening to me. I mean, of course there was my older sister and my parents who could say their R sounds, but I was her main playmate.

    I loved playing with my little sister. My mom says she could not wait for me to come home for preschool because then she would just give me the baby and I would just play with her for hours and hours. Mom could get her housework and other stuff done. She said I would easily take care of the baby for her for hours. Mom said that, one day, she left me with the baby for too long and I appeared in the kitchen door holding the baby and said, “Mom, I’m just exhausted. I can’t take care of her anymore.” I was four years old.

    Mom also likes to tell the story about how, when she took my little sister to the doctor, I would shove my mom aside, get right up front and answer all of the doctor’s questions about how she’s eating and sleeping. Mom said it was like I thought I was her mom.

    Very cute and all, but the price my sister paid was that I, accidentally, taught her how to talk. Sorry about that, Alaina. Although she doesn’t have any Rs in her first name so she’s a lot luckier than I am. She still has that terrible last name though. I guess you can’t win them all. Maybe she should just go by her first name like Beyonce or Madonna. Or Prince! Are those even their real first names? 

    For the longest time I thought about changing my first name to something with no Rs in it. It can’t be that hard to change your first name, can it? When I checked into it, it turns out that is very hard to change your first name. And besides, it might offend my parents. I have nothing against my name. It’s actually a very pretty name. I just can’t say it because it has an R in it. At this point, I guess I’ve lived 51 years with this name, so I might as well just keep it.

    When I was at my mom‘s house last year, I found a bunch of old VHS tapes. No one really knew what was on them, so I brought them home. One of them happened to have my practice speech from when I was running for activities chairperson in, I think, eighth grade. When it starts out, I leap into the frame and say, “Hi my name is Bwita and I am running for activities chaiwpuhson.”

    I’ve got some real 80s hair going on there, too. And a hot pink and turquoise 80s outfit. I go on and on and on about all the grand ideas I have if I’m elected activities chaiwpuhson, and then, at the end, (another die of embarrassment moment) I pretend to throw fake candy into the crowd and say, “VOTE FOR BWITA! VOTE FOR BWITA! FOR ACTIVITIES CHAIWPUHSON,” and then I do a little flip thing with my hands.

    GIF from my eighth-grade activities chaiwpuhson campaign.

    Well, can you believe it? I didn’t win! I showed my sister the video after I found it and we were laughing about it and I told her I did not win. She said, “even with the promise of clash day you didn’t win?” And she is right! There is no way I could have lost with the promise of clash day! Was there election interference? Fraud at the polls? Classmates voting illegally?

    Then, I finally figured out what it was.

    I lost because I couldn’t say my Rs. But I didn’t know it then because I thought I could say my Rs!  Nobody wants an activities chaiwpuhson who can’t pronounce their title. I mean, there are actually two Rs in activities chaiwpuhson, so I think one of the qualifications for having that title is being able to pronounce the word. Why didn’t I choose to run for something with no R in it? President? Nope – it has an R. Vice President? Same. Secretary? Ugh! They all have Rs! I mean, actually I probably lost because my ideas sucked, but we’ll just go with I lost because I couldn’t say my Rs.

    But wait!!! I am just realizing and wondering what else I missed out on in life all because I could not pronounce my Rs? Job opportunities? Relationships?

    Oh my gosh! Can I blame everything that’s wrong in my life on my speech impediment? I mean…. It’s wuhth a twy, wight?

  • My Multitasking Madness

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    Is there anyone who doesn’t multitask? You read everything about doing one thing at a time and putting all of your effort and concentration on the one thing you’re doing so you’ll do it right. But, honestly, how is there time to do everything if you do that?

    I never do one thing at once. Sometimes I do five things at once. I honestly feel I will never get everything done if I only do one thing at a time.

    I don’t even brush my teeth without doing something else. I run around the house, brushing my teeth while I fold laundry or while I sweep the floor or while I wipe down countertops. One of the main reasons I don’t use an electric toothbrush, although my dentist always recommends it, is because you can’t do household chores while brushing your teeth with an electric toothbrush. It’s just too heavy. It will fall right out of your mouth.

    I always have a list of at least a dozen things swirling in my head, so it makes sense why I will try to do multiple things at one time.

    Like filling the dog’s water bowl. Why does it take so long to sit there and fill the dog’s water bowl? While I’m filling the dog’s water bowl I think, “Oh, there’s at least two quick things I can do instead of sitting here and waiting.”

    We have a reverse osmosis faucet and so I used to put the bowl on the counter and start filling it up and go do something else quickly and then come back. Until that one day when I forgot about it and it overflowed all over the countertop and all over the floor. And all down the insides of the cabinets and the drawers underneath. That was a mess, but then I learned I should put the dog’s bowl in the sink to fill it up and then go do something else. Just in case I forget, which I always know I won’t.

    That worked perfectly until the one morning when I got up, and the dog’s bowl was still in the sink, full of water, with the faucet still in the on position. Had I left it running all night long?!? Obviously, yes. 

    I had put it in the sink to start filling up the water before I went to bed while I fed the cat and let the dog out and, obviously, completely forgot about it.

    I started freaking out about my water bill, but honestly, I should’ve been freaking out more about my memory. In case you’re wondering, the water bill was fine. I had a panic moment that my water bill would be $1,000 from letting it run all night. Unrealistic, I know, but there’s no reasoning with a panicked Brita.

    We were going out of town to visit my mom a few weeks ago. Ever since I was little, my mom has made me eggs in bed. But they are not really eggs in bed. It’s just where you fry an egg in a little hole in the bread. There’s a bunch of different names for them like toad in the hole or something like that. 

    My mom makes me those every single time I’m home and it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. They remind me of when I was little and something as simple as an egg in bed could fix the world. I guess I was feeling a little nostalgic, hungry, and ambitious, and I thought I would make myself some eggs in bed. 

    While I was standing there watching the eggs cook, I was getting really impatient and thinking about all the other things I could be doing while the eggs cooked. I had a brilliant idea that I could run upstairs and pack my son’s clothes really quickly for vacation while I was letting the eggs cook. Well, I’m sure you can figure out how that turned out. Writing this now I see that it seems unrealistic and slightly ridiculous, but honestly, I’m a really really fast packer. And a really bad cook.

    As you can imagine, I burned the eggs. But I wasn’t going to waste them and they didn’t look that bad so I ate them. They were gross. But then I was feeling really disappointed afterwards and a little discouraged so I told myself that I CAN make eggs in bed. I told myself this wouldn’t be a failure and I just need to try again. 

    So, I picked myself up, dusted off my apron (kidding, I don’t wear an apron, but I just thought it sounded good for the story), and tried, once again, to make eggs in bed. But, again, I got super impatient waiting for them to cook, so I just went to do some smaller things such as clean the downstairs bathroom and, guess what? I burned the eggs again. But still, I ate them because I did not want to waste them. I had eaten four burnt eggs while multitasking, and still did not learn my multitasking lesson.

    I always have a list of about 12 things in my head to do. I’m one of those people who walks in the room and forgets why i went in there, but I’ve heard that’s common. People always suggest I write a list instead of trying to remember things in my head. It really makes a lot of sense and would make things much easier, but still I think I’m great at remembering things so I keep doing things that way. 

    Isn’t it interesting how sometimes when things don’t work we just keep doing it the same way? Is it a habit? Is it because we’re too lazy to change? Or is it just us trying to prove to ourselves that this way can work if we just try a little harder?

    The other day I came home from work and was feeling really hungry. I decided to make myself some pasta. I filled the pot with water, and I put it on the stove and turned it on.

    Then I went upstairs to do a few things while I waited for the water to boil. I sat at my computer and sent a few work emails. Then I put away some laundry and I cleaned the bathrooms upstairs. I was walking downstairs to get something and I thought to myself, “Geez, I’m a little hungry.”

    And then I thought, “Didn’t I make pasta? Did I eat the pasta?” And then I ran to the kitchen and luckily there was a little water still boiling in the pot. Just a little! Like less than an inch. That could’ve been a disaster! I am always a little nervous when things like that happen and I told myself I should probably quit multitasking and do one thing at a time. I have not taken my advice yet.

    The other night, my brother and I were making mac & cheese. I was of course, doing a million other things while making mac & cheese, like the dishes and sweeping the floor and folding a little laundry and feeding the dog. And multitasking, of course, so I was doing all this stuff while we were making mac & cheese and then I put it in the oven to bake for 25 minutes and sat down with my brother to watch TV. 

    I did set the timer on the oven. After a little while, I asked my brother if he could see how much time was left on the oven clock because I’m blind and cannot see that far and was too lazy to get up. He looked at the oven clock, he squinted, and he asked me if I was sure I turned the oven on. I tsked at him and responded with, “Of course I turned the oven on!” Just to be sure, I got up and checked. And guess what? You guessed it, I was baking the mac & cheese in the oven for 25 minutes and it wasn’t even turned on. I guess that’s what I get by trying to do a bunch of other things at the same time. It worked out fine, dinner was just a little late. It taught us all patience.

    I can’t even watch TV without doing something else at the same time. I’m always typing on my computer or scrolling through my phone or reading the news. 

    I can’t even clean my house or do laundry or walk the dog without listening to an audiobook on my phone. 

    I know that I’m always distracted and that’s why, on rare occasions, I have found my car keys in the fridge and my cell phone in the silverware drawer. I know, I asked myself the same thing. Should we be worried about something more? But, I did actually talk to my doctor about it at my last physical and she’s not worried at all. We both think I’m completely sane. Just too busy.

    I can’t even sit in church without running through a mental list in my mind of all the things I need to do. Sometimes I even sneak off to the bathroom to send a quick email or respond to a text. I know! That’s awful! But, I feel like if I don’t do it right away, I will forget. But then I come back and pray. 

    I am ashamed to say that sometimes I even get my phone out in the middle of church. Maybe people will think I’m just doing God things on my phone. I always sit out in the entranceway where they don’t have the hymnals, so when a real Catholic rocker is being sung and played, I Google the lyrics quickly on my phone so I can sing along at the top of my lungs. Yes, I also feel very sorry for whatever stranger is sitting next to me in church. I’m not a great singer. On one occasion, someone actually got up and moved. I honestly think it was because of my singing.

    I was in the grocery store today and the woman ringing my things up was going so slow. I was just standing there, watching her ring things up at a snail’s pace, thinking about all the other things I need to do and all of the things I could be accomplishing during this time. So I whipped out my phone to respond to a quick work email.

    Does anybody else else’s life look like this? Are there people who actually just do one thing at a time? People who aren’t always stressed about the next thing on the list? People who accomplish everything they need to in a day while only doing one thing at a time? 

    But sometimes I drop the ball. Sometimes I forget something important. My supervisor called me on Tuesday a couple weeks ago and said she was thinking that it didn’t make much sense for me to drive to Raleigh on Thursday so I don’t have to.

    Ummmm… Was I supposed to go to Raleigh on Thursday? Did I miss something important? Obviously. But, I played it off and acted very gracious that I did not have to drive to Raleigh on Thursday. 

    I recently had jury duty, which I was all pissed off about because I had a million things to do. They said no phones were allowed so you had to leave it in the car. At first I panicked. I brought a book in with me and, after being nervous about all I was missing for the first half hour, I actually just sat there and read my book. It was kind of luxurious. Part of me was hoping jury duty would last the whole week. But it didn’t.

    I have a friend in my book club who reads a whole book in one day. She said she just starts in the morning and she takes a break for lunch. She just spends the whole day reading. What?!?! When does she clean her house? Maybe not everyone has to clean their house three times a day like I do. But, I’m so jealous of a day to do nothing but read.

    I should probably pay better attention to things. I should probably slow down. I should probably put some things off until tomorrow.

    I can easily blame it on being a single mom with four jobs and demanding pets but those are really just excuses. I’m going to try to quit multitasking. Right after I Swiffer the floor, while brushing my teeth and folding this quick load of laundry. Or maybe I will just try to quit tomorrow. Or in 20 years. I mean, isn’t just thinking about it a good first step?

  • Overstimulated Mom vs. the Relaxing Salt Caves

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    Recently, we took a vacation to Asheville. We did the rage room and splatter paint and white-water rafting. On the last day, my son needed a vacation from our vacation, so I was looking for something fun and different for my brother and I to do.

    My brother is more of a “let’s relax” type of guy, so I was looking for something relaxing.

    I was just sitting around the AirBnB Googling things to do in Asheville, and I came across the salt caves. What exactly is a salt cave? I have heard of those pink salt lamps, of course, but can salt really heal you? My interest was piqued so I read on.

    I had a lot of questions after reading the website.

    Thirty tons of pure pink salt! That’s a lot!! Where do they get that from?!?! Do they actually weigh it? 

    The website says sitting in the salt cave lowers stress, boosts mood and improves sleep! Along with helping with respiratory problems. The stress and the sleep part got me.

    And blankets? They provide blankets? I love blankets. They are almost my favorite thing. Salt caves had me at the word blankets.

    It says they provide earplugs, blankets and tissues. What are the earplugs for? Is it really loud in there? Loud salt? What are the tissues for? Is it going to make me cry? I mean, everything makes me cry, so that’s very likely. But I’m still confused about what the tissues are for. Maybe to help with respiratory issues? Will my nose all of a sudden start running?

    Community salt rooms? It says open seating is available. Is that like a first come first serve type of thing? Do you get the best seats if you get there early? And where exactly are the best seats? Is there a map of the room somewhere so I can scope out the best seats before I get there and shove everyone else out of the way to get to them?

    Do you sit in a salt room with a bunch of strangers in a recliner for 45 minutes? Is that awkward? Are you best friends when you leave after having had some bonding salt experience, or do you just ignore other people the whole time? 

    They say you have a choice of a recliner or a Thai mat on the floor with supportive bolsters and pillows for propping. What is a Thai mat? What’s a supportive bolster? I should probably Google this before I go in there, I thought. But of course I didn’t. The recliners seemed like the more comfortable choice anyway.

    No phones allowed due to the corrosive effects of salt. Corrosive effects of salt? In 45 minutes? That must be some powerful salt! Do I need to wear protective gear or something?

    What am I going to do with no phone for 45 minutes?  What if someone needs me? What if my cat throws up? I did get a phone call from Pet Paradise (the place I boarded my cat for this trip) in the middle of the rage room the day before to inform me that my cat had thrown up. Surely someone will need me in those 45 minutes.  Surely there will be some emergency!  But I know inside there won’t be. I am not nearly as important as I pretend to be.

    I’m always reading a book on my phone, reading the news, doing the Wordle, checking emails doing 50 things at once like most women do. It sounds like torture to me to sit in a room without my phone. People like to put their phones down for a moment to relax, to be still, to think. But not me.  I don’t want to do any of those things!

    And no smart watches? Also, due to the salt corrosive effects. Once again, I’m a little nervous about this super powerful salt that corrodes phones and smart watches in 45 minutes.

    But seriously, how am I going to know how much time has gone by? I’ll be all relaxing thinking it’s been 45 minutes and it probably has only been four. Then I’ll be all worried that there’s something suspicious going on and I’ll be locked inside that salt room forever! And then my mind will start panicking, and I’ll be thinking instead of pumping in the salt-infused air they’re pumping in some kind of poison! And then I’ll decide that I should probably stop reading all those thriller novels and try some romance ones or something.

    I am just such a bad judge of time. And I rely on my smart watch.  I’ll be all worried that it must be 5 p.m., and my kid is back at the AirBnB wanting dinner. I can feel myself getting claustrophobic and worried just thinking about it…

    Maybe there’s a clock on the wall? I wish I knew this beforehand because then I would’ve dug my old Swatch watch out of my jewelry box to wear for the salt caves. Swatch watches were the best. Maybe I’ll start wearing one again instead of this stupid smart watch that reminds me constantly during the day that I have not exercised enough, and every morning tells me what poor sleep I got the night before.  My old Swatch from the 80s would never do that.

    Time is funny like that. Sometimes it will feel like an hour has gone by, but it’s only been five minutes. And sometimes the reverse is true. Sometimes life just slips away without you noticing it. 

    Another thing it said on the website is to bring clean socks. Do people bring dirty socks? Do they really need the word clean? I guess if it’s in there maybe someone has done it. Well, darn, I guess I will have to do laundry quickly because I was really planning on bringing some dirty socks to the salt cave.

    But also, why do you even need socks?

    It says you can read books, but here’s the thing. I didn’t bring any actual books. I read my books on my phone. And there’s no phones! Do I have time to run out before and buy myself an actual book or do I just have to sit there alone with my thoughts? I know, sitting there alone with my thoughts will probably be good for me, but I might leave with more anxiety than I had going in after figuring out what’s really going on inside my head.

    So we decided to do it. I figured it could at least make a good blog post if it doesn’t heal all of my ailments. We decided it would be something different and kind of interesting. And secretly I had hopes of it healing me and I had even bigger hopes of being a totally different person after 45 minutes in a salt cave.

    It was actually a pretty magical experience. You only went down one flight of stairs, but you felt like you were going deep down into the center of the Earth. And I understand the socks thing now because the ground is covered with salt and it felt really good walking on all the little salt crystals. It felt like a little foot massage.

    The room itself felt like something from inside a fairytale. The walls were covered 2/3rds of the way up with pretty pink salt crystals. It’s like the ice cave from Frozen… except pink. It’d be kind of cool if the woman who leads the thing would dress up like Elsa. Maybe I will suggest that.

    There were also two water fountains all covered in crystals making the most relaxing water fountain noises. The ceiling had wooden beams across. In the spaces in between the beams was a net holding hundreds of pink salt crystals. I would like to tell you my first thought was, “What a pretty pink sparkly ceiling,” but my first thought actually was, “What if the net breaks and all those crystals fall on my face! Will there be some magical healing going on like all my wrinkles will magically disappear? Or will I just have a black eye? Hopefully the nets won’t break!” I’m sure they’re pretty sturdy nets. 

    I elbow my way past everyone to get to the best seat in the cave. (There’s not really a best seat… it’s not like you are looking at anything but the walls and the ceiling and you can see that from any seat)…  I try to relax. I try to clear my mind, but my mind is always full of a million thoughts. Also, these recliners are not as comfortable as you would think. I felt like there was a bar sticking into my back.

    So, I look over at those Thai mats on the floor wondering if I was allowed to change my mind and go lay on one of those. Are you allowed to move or is it like a, “you chose it so you are stuck with it kind of thing?”

    Also, I very confused by these Thai mats. I knew I should have Googled them!! I kept trying to figure out which side was for my head and which side was for my feet. It appeared to me you could actually lay either way.  I couldn’t figure out a top and a bottom.

    And they were way too short to fit a human on them. Were they for a little kids? I think it would probably be OK to experiment since it looked like everyone else in the room was in a total state of relaxation. There was a woman with her mouth literally hanging open. Maybe that is what the ear plugs are for! Drowning out the snores coming from other people.

    I was worried there might be a video camera or something and people who work here will be watching me laughing trying to figure out why I’m laying upside down on a Thai mat. Darn it! I knew I should’ve Googled it. Google has always been my best friend.

    So, I very quietly and carefully scoot on over to the Thai mats, crawling part of the way, like that will help people from noticing I am moving… since I might not be allowed to move. I think I figured out that maybe the pillows are where my head goes…. Maybe the bolster thing is supposed to go under my knees? I’m just playing it off like I know what I’m doing. I want to get up and try it the other way around, but I don’t want to bring too much attention to myself, so I just convince myself that this is a correct way to lie on a Thai mat in a salt cave and that no one is secretly laughing at me if I am doing it wrong.

    Isn’t it funny where your mind goes when you have a few minutes to relax? It definitely didn’t go where I wanted it to go. It definitely didn’t relax. It goes to things like, “Is the dishwasher broken?” “Do I need to order more hand soap?” And, “I wonder where my passport is.” I have no upcoming international trips, but still…

    I kept trying to kick thoughts out of my brain, but they just kept coming back in. Maybe relaxing isn’t for me. Maybe I was never meant to relax. Maybe I am just bad at relaxing. 

    But I did like the feel of this all salt under my feet. I did like the sound of the waterfall, and I did like the idea that being in one place can heal you. The idea that something outside of yourself can heal you. Isn’t that what we are all looking for? Something simple that will heal us?

    But before I knew it, the 45 minutes was up. I can’t say I ever got to a point of total relaxation, but I was almost there. I even found myself wanting just a few more minutes.

    After we left, my brother and I were both looking at each other and asking if there other felt any different? I think we were both waiting to hear what the other one would say. Maybe neither one of us really wanted to admit that we didn’t feel any different.

    Because don’t we all just want a quick fix? An hour in a salt cave to heal all our hurts? But we all know there is no quick fix. You have to work at healing, and it takes time. 

    While I was a little disappointed this salt cave didn’t heal all my hurts, I know there’s beauty in the process of healing. And maybe the salt cave isn’t the miracle cure I had hoped.

    But maybe I’ll try acupuncture or something just in case there really is a quick fix and I just haven’t found it yet.