What Happens When You Hold Your Shit In
An article NOT for the weak-hearted
Let’s premise with a couple of things:
- This was not by choice. I was on a 4-kilometre walk.
- I went to the bathroom right before I left the house.
- This may not be the greatest article to read if you’re eating or the idea of human waste grosses you out.
It all started because I was having a rather “off-day”. I felt a loss in connection with my purpose, which caused a great deal of anxiety and stress. Being a self-doubting prodigy, I tried to get out of that headspace.
I started with a shower, then drank a nourishing fruit shake, and eventually got around to doing some work. No pressure, I’m just doing what I can, I told myself.
The day went by with numerous breaks. At around 4 pm I found myself in a slump again. Knowing there was no use in forcing myself to work and seeing that I could take the time to give myself a full reset, I decided to go on a walk through the forest.
Movement and nature have a mindful effect. They, almost literally, detach me from my worries and troubles. In a setting that feels abundant — in air, greenery, space, and possibilities — I begin to feel like I can breathe again. It’s the “getting started” that’s hard. But I pushed through, putting on a mustard yellow toque, puffy jacket, and shoes before I could entertain the idea of staying at home.
Before heading out the door, I realised I needed to use the toilet. So I quickly provided my digestive system with a safe space to release its waste.
Based on this article’s title, you already know I didn’t actually empty it all out.
Then off I went.
It was a slightly cloudy day, the wind was subtle and the air felt fresh on my cheeks. Small flowers lined the parameters of the pavement. Cherry blossoms slowly yawned. It was the unfolding of spring. As I began to create a mindful headspace, there was a sense of ease that washed over me. The chatter in my head decreased in volume, and soon I tapped into a new world.
Honing in on this feeling, I dropped my shoulders and took deeper breaths. Less than ten minutes into the walk, I was dispatched from my anxiety.
Unfortunately, this experience was short-lived.
In the 11th minute, an uncomfortable feeling arose and I was disturbed from my peace.
“You need to take a shit,” a neurotransmitter communicated.
“This has to be a mistake — ”
“Dude, I’m telling you, we triple-checked already and you need to take a shit,” it argued.
“Are you sure it’s not a, you know, just air?”
“Uh, let me check.” It left, and a few milliseconds later it was back with new information. “Nope. Try forcing it out of you and I assure you, it won’t be a good scene.”
“Ughhhh! But I just went before I left! This is unacceptable — ”
“Well, there’s definitely some leftovers.”
“Shit,” I muttered.
“Indeed.”
So I dealt with the whole situation the best way I could: I comforted myself. It’s alright, I can hold it in. In a few minutes, the feeling will eventually go away. I’ve done this before.
I continued my walk, not wanting to turn around because of the high possibility that once I returned, I wouldn’t want to go out again — especially since the sun would be setting then.
As the minutes passed, the discomfort grew. My focus shifted from appreciating the greenery and being present to “micro-squeezing” my butt cheeks — just so that no one behind me would notice me clenching my butt to the highest degree.
I even entertained the idea of relaxing my body but that caused the opposite effect and I knew “micro-squeezing” was the only way to go.
The neurotransmitter came back. “You know, you can go off this path and take a shit in the middle of the forest.”
“Is that a joke? Absolutely not! What if someone sees me? What do I wipe myself with?” I was outraged it would even suggest such a thing.
“Your runner friends tell you about it all the time! They just hide and use a leaf or something.”
“Nope. Nope, nope, nope. This is not what my life has come to.”
“Dude, come on! Waste is au-natural!”
“The forest is home to many natural things, but my shit does not belong here. End of story.”
After the 2 kilometre mark, the tension in my body grew even more. How is this taking up so much of my energy? This was certainly not like before; it was requiring more attention and causing more pain and discomfort. It had completely ruined the whole purpose of going for a walk.
Instead of spending time getting out of my head, here I am with my head up my ass. I started to walk faster, feeling like I wouldn’t be able to hold it in any longer. The possibility of shitting myself gave an extra boost and I scurried home, clenching my butt together like a woman who just snagged the last Chanel bag.
500 metres left. I got this. My energy tunnelled into focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. I’m almost home. As I waited to cross the road before my block, I no longer felt it.
“Oh, it’s gone,” a neurotransmitter announced.
“What do you mean it’s gone! I’m almost home — ”
“Girl, I’m just lettin’ ya know your bootyhole can relax now.”
“I’m not accepting that! This shit is getting out of me whether or not it wants to!”
I stormed across the street and into my house. I rushed into the toilet, swiftly removing my leggings and undies, and finally relaxing on the toilet bowl.
And nothing. Nothing came out.
I was pissed.
Are you kidding me?! After all the pain I went through —
Plop. A pea-sized piece of shit fell.
I dropped my head into my hands and felt its weight. I ran my fingers through my hair and groaned. Looking up at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but laugh. I was in so much discomfort the last 30 minutes, and when I was finally ready to let it go, it took more effort and turned out to be something so small.
“Much like your worries and anxieties,” a neurotransmitter whispered.
“Hah, you can say that again.”
I sat on the toilet bowl as I continued my conversation with a bunch of wise neurotransmitters. It was eye-opening. Things we normally do as humans, such as urinate and excrete solid waste, are necessary in order to rid our bodies of substances that are no longer useful.
What if we treated our fears, doubts, anxieties, and worries the same way? Sure, they serve a purpose to protect you and show you what you really care about. But holding onto them for too long creates unnecessary pain. Pain becomes self-inflicted.
You end up in a world of your own, detached from life’s beauty and possibilities. If only I had let go of my ego and took a shit in the forest, I would have realised it wasn’t nearly as bad and I could have continued my walk with more ease.
Instead, I learned the “hard” way — which also means the lesson sticks around more. It’s a difficult truth to digest, however, my system was getting used to it. I smiled, processing that I connected holding a shit in with holding onto thoughts and beliefs that no longer served me.
Going back to reality, I cleaned myself and washed my hands, walking back into my room to document this killer metaphor.
Needless to say, the whole experience gave “keeping my shit together” a new meaning. So, no thank you, I’m definitely not keeping my shit together. But I am letting it go.
