Emotional Bathrooms (ver. 2024)

Alright, folks, buckle up! We're about to embark on a journey through the wild and wacky world of... emotional plumbing. That's right, we're talking Emotional Bathrooms, and no, it's not a new punk band name (though it could be).

Picture this: You've just survived another day in the concrete jungle. You've met, greeted, eaten, fought, lived, argued, and possibly juggled flaming pineapples (hey, I don't know your life). You drag your weary carcass home, and your body starts screaming louder than a toddler in a candy store: "Bathroom! Shower! Toothbrush!" You obediently cleanse your body of the day's grime and gunk. But what about the emotional flotsam and jetsam swirling around in your noggin? Enter our caped crusader: The Emotional Bathroom!

So, what in the name of Freud's cigar is an emotional bathroom? I'm glad you asked, imaginary reader!

Our bodies are walking satellite dishes with five channels (aka our senses) broadcasting 24/7. These persistent little buggers pick up more signals than a paranoid CIA agent, sending them to our internal processors faster than you can say "information overload." The good stuff? It stays. The bad stuff? It's got to go, baby!

Air goes to our lungs; food takes the scenic route through our digestive system and emotions? They end up in a tiny little brain nightclub called the amygdala. It's like a mosh pit for feelings down there!

During the day (and night), our body works overtime to expel the bad stuff. Lungs kick out stale air like bouncers at a rowdy bar (cough, cough, sneeze!). The digestive system... well, let's say it has its own way of showing toxins the exit (I'll spare you the details, you're welcome). But our poor emotional tanks? They're desperately seeking a porcelain throne of their own to flush away the stress. Without this emotional flush, we end up in deeper doo-doo than a porta-potty at a chili cook-off.

Now, gather 'round for story time with yours truly. I've got two emotional bathrooms so well-used, my family could set their watches by them (move over, Big Ben!).

Morning ritual: Double espresso + three dates + three pages of holy book = Zen master me. Then, I transform into Forrest Gump and hit the pavement for a 4–5-mile jog. Post-run, I inhale the "finest and fiberest" breakfast lovingly prepared by my better half. Voila! Amygdala at zero, readiness at 100. It's like a car wash for my soul!

Evening ritual: After 10 hours of reenactment of Apocalypse Now (aka work), I'm ready for bathroom break #2. Shower, pray, and then it's P&L analysis time with the missus. We sip green tea and puff on a Padron like we are auditioning for a film noir. By the time that stogie's down to its last inch, so is my stress level. Then, it's off to dreamland, where I fantasize about retirement and a life free from emotional constipation.

So, what happens if you skip these emotional pit stops? Well, imagine going through life without ever visiting the loo. Yeah, that's a load of... trouble you don't want to be in (pun absolutely intended, and I'm not even sorry).

Remember, folks: Regular emotional flushing keeps the doctor from rushing! Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a date with my emotional bidet. Stay clean, my friends!

P.S. I published this article on LinkedIn in 2016 and decided to 2024 it because it resonates today a lot more than it did then!