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Be Careful What You Wish For

Posted by Diane Sapp on

Be Careful What You Wish For

 Be careful what you wish for. I don’t know if I said it out loud of if I just thought it to myself.

“Just once... I wish, when I walk into the bathroom, I don't see the towels on the floor, the toilet seat up and the toothpaste not squashed in the middle”.

I wished to know that the shower stayed off when I turned off the faucet. 

I will admit it was me that did not immediately replace the toilet paper.

Now when I walk into the bathroom- it is just the way I left it and I don’t care.

Ron is no longer here and I would trade all the towels on the floor one more minute with him.

 My wish came true.  And I regret thinking those thoughts.  

It was as if my wish somehow was responsible for my husband’s death.

Guilt and regret the what-ifs, the roads not taken, the choices that haunt us.  Monday morning quarter backing does not work in sports and it changes nothing positive during grieving.  We do the best we can at any given time and rehashing our choices hampers our recovery.

Forgive yourself.

 

Why Towels Are More Than Just Terrycloth.

Towels on the floor were a big, big deal to me.  No family should need 20 towels a week. My mother assigned us a towel and they remained on the towel bar for a week before she washed them. My family used a new towel for each daily bath and promptly threw it on the floor. I asked them to replace their towels but they were non-compliant.

Only after repeated requests, pleas, monologues and temper outbursts did I resort to nefarious methods meant to teach a lesson to my husband and children (guilty by association).

 

While on a family trip, I had a dubious excursion into a gas station bathroom, 

accompanying a child who “had to go now”. It wasn’t a pleasant experience but I did notice the hand towels were not on the floor.  The cloth hand towel was on a roller that looped in circles to provide a “cleaner area above” to dry the hands.  A plan was made.

  Gas station towel  machine

After our weekend trip had ended I gathered up each person’s towel and hand stitched one end to the other end over the towel rack. I sewed it so it would not come off. Then I hid the rest of the towels.

I waited for bath time. It was exquisite as the howls of frustration bellowed out of the bathroom.

The only way to dry off was to stick an arm or leg into the void and run it around, or rub up and down like a cat. And towel drying the hair was a feat worthy of a circus act.

The towels stayed on the towel bar for a week just like my mom’s had so I clipped the threads and washed the towels.

They promised “to keep the towels off the floor”, but “off the floor” doesn’t mean the same as “on the towel rack” and that ran into another set of issues.

I had a good reason to wish to walk into the bathroom and see order.  And I have a good reason not to feel guilt with my wish.  For Peace of Mind, I needed to forgive myself. I am doing that by sharing my guilt, by bringing remorse into the light, by naming and by writing my supposed sin. 

What is it you regret and need forgiveness? Name it. Define it. Forgive it.

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