While most people consider bathrooms as places to take care of their personal business, it serves as the only constant in my life. Between the turbulent relationships, missing parts, and struggles with self-identity, I always found the time for a long shower. Like clockwork, turning on the knob causes my thoughts to whirl like clouds of steam fogging up my mirror. I sigh with relief as my feet touch the cold, wet tile. Its surface is frictionless, contrary to daily life. Standing directly under the water, with its screams muffling the ones in my head. I’m not under any pressure or forced to think when I lather myself with soap. After an exhausting day, the suds resemble a gentle caress. I watch colors reflect onto delicate bubbles against the mellow sound of running water, drowning out the noises from the outside world. There is an air of vulnerability but each drop of water that runs down my back provides me with catharsis. The soap collects dirt and dust from the past with my current worries and carries them down the drain.

Image was taken by Iris, “Shower.”

I can’t count how many times I have cried on my bathroom floor, something about it feels so much more personal than anywhere else in the world.  I’m able to collect my thoughts or spill them all out without any hesitation. My restroom is the only place where I feel it’s okay to color outside the lines and make a mess.

I remember once sitting curled up on my sink’s countertop, crying over a boy who is now just a footnote in my life. I stared blankly in the mirror, with tears slowly running down my puffy eyes and flushed cheeks. Days prior, I had looked into that same mirror while getting ready to go out on a date with him. At the time, I fully believed that there was going to be no end, this state of melancholy was going to be the rest of my life. Sometimes when I look at myself, I think back to this memory and laugh. That mirror reflects the growth I’ve experienced since my time in elementary to the person I am now.

My bathroom has seen almost every stage of my life. From birthday parties, zoom conferences, get-togethers, to funerals and divorce hearings. The walls echo past conversations, breakups, and arguments, but it’s all a part of who I have become. It’s where I get ready every morning or sluggishly get unready at night. It’s where I’ve made peace with the past and learned to say goodbye. It’s how I manage to battle through the challenges of growing up and I wouldn’t have it any other way.