I showered in total darkness last night. In my shower, there is a light that I never turn on because enough light comes in through the skylight and from outside of the shower. Y’all know damn well how I feel about lighting anyway (insert hissing), and besides, no one needs that much light while naked. Last night was pitch black though, I was in one of the upstairs bathrooms doing my Epsom salt detox soaks and needed to squeeze in a quick rinse after. The candle had burned out mid soak and I had not a care in the world to do anything about it because the water was hot, no one was talking to me, and I felt like I weighed 12 pounds and had perky tits again. This is my favorite part of being in the water, everything lifts and offers relief. It was also one of my favorite survival tips for the twin pregnancy…well that and the glass of wine. Anyway, I was confident I could pull it all off in the dark without even a candle. I stood up and started to drain the water, pulled the shower curtain inside of the tub, put the no-slip mat back in placed one foot on it to rush it to the bottom, and reattached a shower curtain ring to the liner before pulling it closed, reached up for the shower head and adjusted it so my hair and face would not get sprayed, adjusted the temperature to my foots liking because I was not about to attempt leaning over to touch it with my hand, and pulled the shower tab pully thing up (I have no clue what that thing is called). I started to feel wobbly and was already weak from doing an hour of cardio in the heat followed by a 45-minute strength training workout that had me questioning how much longer my legs would last while cussing at myself to suck it up and power through and not be a baby. A baby who could not breathe, see through their own sweat, and could feel my muscles individually telling me to fuck off. Which they know I love to hear. The Epsom salt soaks make me extremely sleepy and my legs turn into mush, so showering in complete darkness was not the brightest idea…pun intended. I would like to go ahead and ruin the story at this point, nothing happened. I found the soap when I could not even see my own hands in front of my face, I tasted the salt in the water that bounced off my shoulders which have had their limit of sun already, I stepped over and out of the tub, placing my foot perfectly on the rug, put on my bathrobe, and turned on the light. “Who the fuck is that?” came out of my mouth when I saw mascara all around my eyes, the loss of color in my face, and all of these pieces of baby hair wet and stuck to my face like a drowned rat acting all fucking fancy in the dark while wearing a purple tinted bathrobe. Then the lights come on and utter shock smears across the rat’s face as they realize the party is over and nothing about them is fancy when the lights are on. Although I did not recognize the rat staring back at me, I gave her a little high-five in the mirror for successfully showering without an accident because I like to celebrate little wins, even with total strangers in bathrobes, maybe especially, because I love a good bathrobe. 

I have this thing about trying to do things in the dark. No, Brad, no. Nearly every time I walk into the garage to leave, I never turn the light on. I shout back to the dogs to be good and that I love them and then let the door slam in my face. Game on, Britt. Don’t be a coward, find Bossy and complete the mission. There are two small steps into the garage, they never make me giggle, I conquer them and scoff. Then, without fail, and despite my five years of navigating the same five feet to my car door, I get lost as fuck. This is where I let out a little giggle in the dark, and start reaching around to feel the freezer and talking to Bossy about what an idiot I am but that I am so glad she loves me the way she does. I slide my no nail havin’ hands down the side of her face (the hood of the car), lightly gripping her jaw and making my way up to her left ear (driver side, side mirror), they move in a waving motion to her shoulder (the start of the driver door) and glide to her armpit (the door handle) where I tickle her a little (does not require fingernails) because I am giddy I found my way in the dark. She celebrates my success every time by lighting up the floor for me and greeting me with “Hello Mom” on the screen when I sit down. The funny thing about the whole thing is meanwhile, down below, my feet are taking the tiniest little non-stop steps, kicking everything and nothing at the same time, and my hips are being all dramatic swinging into everything as if to say “Just turn the fucking light on.” No. I will not. I thoroughly enjoy playing stupid games with myself. And then my anxiety sets in like what does my higher self know? Why am I always trying to do things in the dark or blind? Am I going to be blind one day? In this moment, I always tell God I am sorry and tell him “I don’t want to be tested” I then proceed to explain the way I think and that I know it is not normal and then quickly shut up and say, “Never mind, you already know me, sorry, I didn’t mean any disrespect and I love you…Thank you for my eyesight…Amen!” Look if anyone knows I am not normal and thinks I am weird, it is him. But it is also me, Bossy, my sons, and the mailman I always get mad at for being on the phone, the cashier at every store I ask about their lives and share something about mine to make them feel better, the squirrels in my backyard, the hawks I yell at begging to just come land on me for my birthday or lift me up for a quick flight if possible, the spider I spent ten minutes convincing to get on the paper so I could take him outside and save his life and then give him directions on how to get back inside in case he left some of his things or has a family in here somewhere, the rock I compliment for being so fucking solid, the tree I made up a whole life for based off of everything he has seen, the bottle cap I took out of the trash and reunited with its bottle so they could be together in the end, the pillow I bury my head into, smile, and moan while saying “mmmmmmm, I love you” every night because I FUCKING LOVE TO GO TO SLEEP so, so, so much! I could do all of these things without my eyesight, but I sure am fucking thankful I have it (sorry I had to reiterate for my sky daddy). 

While in the shower I remembered going to church with a childhood friend during a very cold winter. Our families attended the same private school in San Antonio and just like any good cult-like environment would do, we all purchased land on the same street and moved together. Eight years went by, and I found myself trying out new churches with a myriad of friends. I particularly liked going with my childhood friend because he drove a bright yellow 1970 VW Bug. The drive from our street to church was a good thirty-minute haul with no heater, no radio, and a direct air draft that came through the glove box. I remember closing my eyes (yup) as we blazed through the winding hill country, shaking from the cold both of us laughing from the excitement of it all, and his tiny little pointed lips saying “Sorry”! I thought it odd he was apologizing for something I thought was such a gift. I still feel that way about closing my eyes in a car and letting the wind blow on my face. My mother has told me this was not uncommon for me even as a very young girl. She would buckle me up in some sort of a car seat and oftentimes when she would glance back I would be working my way out of it. I would take off my clothes, press my head back against the seat, close my eyes, and let the wind blow my hair all around. I know I did not always have them shut because I vividly remember the hole we had in the floor of the car. It was big enough to drop a cantaloupe through and I was always fascinated by the color of the jagged edges and how the road endlessly offered stories for my imagination as it continued to frame itself within the rusted floorboard changing with each blink I took between strands of dirty blonde hair whipping around my face. Some of my most vivid memories in life I absorbed by closing my eyes at the moment and just feeling without sight. Dear God, this does not mean I want to lose it, but rather that my sight is often changed about people and things by closing my eyes and seeing with my soul, using all of the other senses you gifted me with to make it come to life. Also, I grew up-ish, so when the car arrives I always have my seatbelt and clothes on and I do not have holes in my floorboard. I am very blessed, thankful, and grateful. Please let me keep playing dumb games in the dark without consequence, Amen!