For most of my life I was making small to medium poops, nothing to scoff at but certainly nothing to praise either. They were average poops that served me well but weren’t putting me on the map.
Other areas in my life were swimming along nicely: my business was growing, my social media presence was expanding, and I was enjoying the fruits of my labor after work, as I was able to go on vacations and spend time with friends.
Why then were my poops staying so average? The question plagued me. I tried eating more fiber and while the poops were smoother and more frequent they weren’t what I would call ‘huge.’
I tried stool softener. I won’t try that again. Not recommended. The sky went dark and the scene turned into an apocalyptic nightmare: I heard a baby crying, helicopters flying overhead, people screaming, and bombs going off. This was apparently all happening in my stomach. Once I released, life resumed normalcy.
I tried fruit, juicing, vegetables, kombucha, yogurt, I even tried a lot of meat, thinking maybe a big steak would give me a huge poop I could write home about. Not so. While the poops got blacker in some cases they were still not huge enough for my liking.
Here I was with a high rate of shared content on the web; I was advising many Fortune 500 companies on how to grow their online presence and create customer loyalty, my twitter count was in the thousands, yet in private my poops were weak, inconsistent and watery.
I felt like a fraud.
Then it hit me. It wasn’t what I was eating that was causing my poops to look and feel so weird (yes, I felt them too), it was me. I lacked confidence. I was showing one face to the world but I showed another face altogether when I was alone in the bathroom. So what was I afraid of?
Everything. I was afraid that I wasn’t being true to myself. I was afraid people would see through me. I was afraid my blogs and content were crap. I was afraid I wasn’t loveable, I wasn’t a good friend, I was ugly, I couldn’t run fast, my driving was bad, my taste buds were unrefined, my beard sucked, I couldn’t tell which instrument was the bass in a pop song, and on and on.
We all do this. We’re all afraid.
What I did next changed everything. I asked for help. I called a friend who is a very fast runner and asked him to clock me. Turns out I am not so slow! I am not the fastest runner out there, but my speed was nothing to scoff at.
I called a friend who plays bass and had him point out to me which instrument is the bass in current hits. I can now easily tell you which instrument is the bass in any song. Well, almost any! I’m not a bass player!
I called another friend and asked her if I’m ugly. She said yes, you are ugly, you are so ugly and disgusting that you are the most beautiful man I know. Oh my god, I cried in front of her. It felt so good.
With each of my insecurities I found a friend who excelled in that area and I asked them point blank to tell me how I fared in that area of life. When I had my answers I went home, walked into the bathroom, sat down on the toilet, and released what I can honestly say was a “mountain.” It was a heaping pile of shit that rose above the water level and did not go gently into that good night with the first flush. It was a 2 flusher.
I realized sometimes we all get down on ourselves. It’s our friends and our support base that lifts us back up. If your poops aren’t what you wish they would be ask yourself if there’s something about yourself you’re afraid to look at, and then ask a friend for help. I promise you, in 3 days you’ll poop your brains out. I did.