I can…sing in the shower!
I should also add that I can sing in the shower again! Before I got heavy and life got hard, I used to sing in the shower nearly every day. The hot water, steam, and fresh cleanness would just invigorate all my senses and if belt it out like no other. Then slowly I started using the shower as my own place to hide away for. The kids while they were little so I could get a few minutes of peace and quiet. Then as I got older and more depressed it became my crying booth. I would shut myself in, turn the water hot enough to turn the skin on my chest beet red and have a good sob. I can remember hitting my lowest if lows in the shower and just holding on to my big belly and cursing myself. I wrapped my arms around my largeness and decided it was going to end. I was going to stop killing myself with food and I was going to stop thinking of all the reasons to hurt myself. I decided that moment to live my life differently…better. Then I stepped out of that crying booth and it became just a shower after that. Until today!
Today I put on my iTunes Radio and the first song that came on was Only Human by Cristina Perry.
It’s a song I can remember hearing for the first time in the kitchen while I was cooking. It stopped me dead in my tracks because it’s words spoke to the part of me that hurt, that longed for someone to understand me and to love me when I felt unlovely. I remember the part that said “your words in my head, knives in my heart. You build me up and I fall apart. I’m only human.” I had been hurt so many times by someone and I fell to the floor in a heap and cried that moment. It felt like someone finally understood me. The writer of that song knew exactly what I was feeling. I had heard enough hurtful words and felt enough knives in my heart. I was ending it. I was cutting that relationship off until I was strong enough to not let it hurt me anymore.
Today I sang that song in the shower and remembered all those feelings and emotions and heartache and tears and let the hot steamy water wash them down the drain. I wasn’t crying in the privacy of my shower. I wasn’t hiding my big old belly behind that shower curtain hating myself. I wasn’t thinking of anything but victory. I had overcome the words to that song and it didn’t hurt anymore.
So today I can sing in the shower. I sang at the top of my lungs while Tim snoozed in his chair and was oblivious to my Grammy worthy performance. I didn’t mind one bit. I wasn’t singing for him or anyone else. I was singing for me and it felt good.