"The Tiles on the Bathroom Floor"

My feet are planted on the cool laminate floor.

My calves are straining to maintain my body’s position after 3 hours of holding this pose.

And my eyes are fixated on the tiles.

I say to myself, “2x2 is 4. 4x4 is 16” trying to put my mind elsewhere in between the pain.

I look at the squares under my toes and point, then press on each box.

“This one is for school. This one is for my future career. This one is for dance,” I repeat in-between gasps. While sweat pours over my body, I think of how I am one minute closer to this episode ending.

Over the course of 13 years, I studied the tiles on the bathroom floor. I was alone with pain behind a closed door. I could not escape my body failing me. I could not get out.

But I was able to study the geometric patterns on the ground. I was able to craft goals and images across the symmetric shapes. 

My hands are clenching the porcelain seat.

My head is practically touching the toilet water.

My eyes are burning from constant retching over the course of nine months.

I say to myself, “In nine months, I will have a baby. You’ve lost one pregnancy already. You want a baby. You can do this.”

I feel the marble tiles under my cold feet. I take my big toe and press as hard as I can.

“This one is for my son. This one is for being able to see friends. This one is for being able to talk,” I repeat in-between each oral ejection.

Over the course of 4 years, I felt the tiles on the bathroom floor. My hands clawed at them. My knees became sore from them. My body became used to them once more. I could not get out of my body. And this time, I could not escape my mind [which was a lonely and dark place during this period]. But the tiles, while cold and stoic, were also familiar and smooth. I knew that what I was feeling was finite. And that it was only a matter of time before I would be able to break free.

The tiles on the bathroom floor have become a lasting symbol for me throughout my life. To me, they signify what prison and pain feel like: A prisoner to my body and a prisoner to my mind. However, they also represent perspective for me. A stressful day is just a day, they are not the tiles on the bathroom floor. A bad week, is just a week, they are not the tiles on the bathroom floor. COVID-19 is a pandemic, but for me, it is not the tiles on the bathroom floor.

Over the years, I have often wondered why people experience pain. And while I don’t have an answer, pain has allowed me to gain perspective that allows me to recognize what is and is not a “tiles on the bathroom floor” situation. Is COVID-19 a terrible virus? Yes. But, unlike those 13 years where I was sequestered to a toilet, I am now able to freely walk around my house and even go outside. I am able to be with my children. I am able to live a whole day without pain.

Is COVID-19 isolating? Yes. But, unlike the years where I was unable to speak and could not escape my lightless limbic system; I am able to Facetime. I am able to Zoom. I am able to laugh.

Today, I felt a smile form due to some classic Lex Potty Humor. When I was confined to a commode, I would often listen to a movie to focus on something other than the pain [a cinematic version of biofeedback]. One such movie, “About a Boy” starring Hugh Grant, has always resonated with me because Hugh Grant makes time more digestible [pun intended].

 Hugh Grant said, “I find the key is to think of a day as units of time, each unit consisting of no more than thirty minutes. Full hours can be a little bit intimidating and most activities take about half an hour. Taking a bath: one unit, watching countdown: one unit, web-based research: two units, exercising: three units, having my hair carefully disheveled: four units. It's amazing how the day fills up, and I often wonder, to be absolutely honest, if I'd ever have time for a job; how do people cram them in?”

 If you look at time as infinite, it can feel overwhelming. But if you look at time as running out and in units; then you will be amazed at how many things you will and can accomplish in one day, let alone one month. Accomplishments can range from taking a shower, to making your child smile, to speaking to someone, to being able to work, and so much more.

For me, I never thought I would be able to look at anything other than the tiles on the bathroom floor. I never thought I would be able to see what was in front of me, because I was so focused on looking down.

As you go through COVID-19, my advice to you is that if you are not a prisoner to your body and if you are not a prisoner to your mind; you have so much to experience. Each of you has a “Tiles on the Bathroom Floor.” My hope is that COVID-19 is able to show you that as long as you can look up, as long as you can look forward, as long as you can talk, and as long as you have your health; you can do so much over the finite units of time that you have.