I have slept on the bathroom floor twice in my life. The first time was in college, after I took a dare to consume a whole bottle of vanilla Schnapps (funny, because I thought college was to make you Smarter…not Dumber). I’ll spare you the horrific details…just know that what occurred in that bathroom that night wasn’t natural. It wasn’t pretty, but then again, I didn’t look too good either. Anyway, last weekend was the second time. I have no idea the last time I did “Doody Duty.” I used to write it down, but after being discouraged upon seeing one BM every 3 weeks, my doctor told me to stop documenting because it was stressing me out and when it happens…it will happen (The same advice I would give my friends if they wanted a baby.) After three hours of trying to reach a peaceful merger and getting absolutely nowhere, I simply felt too drained, both mentally and physically, by Mr. Stubborn Colon’s decision to be an uncooperative @ss and NOT work together with Mr. Laxative Fleet (who can do his job BUT just needs that little push to get him going) to make it to bed. I turned off the light and spent the night lying on the cold hard floor crying like a baby. And you know what? It felt so good. I cried big fat tears full of fear, anxiety, anger, hurt and doubt and snot bubbles of “Why did this happen to me?” I felt no shame or embarrassment as those tears streamed steadily down my face. I cried until my eyes felt dry like the desert…and my nose was chapped from rubbing it with the back of my hand. Then I slept…peacefully. I wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep soundly about a year ago. I would’ve been sitting up in the dark, my mind racing with all types of emotions until morning. You see, I always prided myself on being a positive person, the type of person who tried to make lemonade out of the lemons of life. When I first became ill, I somehow felt like it was my job to make sure everyone else was comfortable with my illness instead of trying to get myself comfortable with it first. I don’t know if that was because as a mom, it just felt like a natural thing to do, trying to protect my loved ones or maybe because deep down I knew, that if people knew I wasn’t able to handle it, as optimistic as I was, how in the earth would anyone else? I felt like crying outside, yet smiled to take the worry away from others, forever trying to play the role of the sturdy rock. Unfortunately like a rock in water, I was sinking fast. It was only until a wonderful friend pulled me aside and gave me some great advice :”Relax and rest. You know, you don’t always have to be superwoman and act like everything is sunshine and roses. It’s okay to not be happy all the time and let others know how you feel. It’s okay to be tired and rest.” Those words made me recognize that I was making myself crazy; trying to paint the perfect picture of happy assurance for everyone. The sad thing is, if I would have been honest with myself and my family, I would have found out that no one had expected me to be happy all the time, anyway. I put that pressure on myself. That wonderful advice became a catalyst for change. I learned to feel comfortable telling others how I truly felt, no longer feeling timid about letting people know I was just too tired to participate or too sick to go, I listened to my body and I slept. I let go of the idea that I had to do everything, and let others be in control and help out. I didn’t allow myself to feel badly about telling people the truth, and that there and will be times that I’m nervous, doubtful, angry or simply sad. Sometimes, that can be hard, especially when it involves young children, but it’s better to be honest than to play make-believe. The other night reminded me of how much I have grown. It made me proud to know that I’ve finally gotten to a place where I’m strong enough to allow myself to feel weak at times, to acknowledge my feelings and know its okay. Crying enabled my body and mind to purge all the fear, stress and anxiety that I’ve been feeling lately and although I didn’t eliminate anything from my body, I found out removing stress from my mind was what I needed far more than anything Mr. Colon & Mr. Fleet could have done that night…Just know, they are still on my sh*t list though (and that pun WAS so intended).