Toilet Ruminations #103

Good towels are important. I am always in a worse mood when the towels grow old and dirty. When my towels are old and dirty I feel poor. I imagine that those who are poor live with dirty and old towels. But I understand this is presumption on my part. I am sure there are many rich people who are too lazy to indulge their ability to have nice and clean towels. They are most likely miserable and depressed as I once was (and sometimes still am). I once had great towels. I had the best towels money could buy. I was a successful psychologist and had enough money to afford good towels. I would buy new towels every few months. I would throw out the old ones. Few things helped me to confront the weight of the work day ahead like a good towel after my morning shower. But I have quit being a psychologist. I could handle it no more. I have worked many jobs in my life. Terrible, low-level jobs. None were worse than being a psychologist. When I was working as a psychologist I looked upon my days working as a waiter or a shoe salesman with great envy and romanticism. Being a psychologist was tormenting. I suffered terribly. My hair grayed and thinned. I got testicular cancer. I knew this could be the case when I was in graduate school and saw two of my professors who worked as psychologists get sick and pass away. I knew then that being a psychologist was not healthy when my therapist’s mentor, who was a psychologist, jumped from a bridge. That there was something fundamentally toxic about working the job. But I stuck with it. I needed the money and the social legitimacy. And I tried. For many years I was a very successful psychologist. I had waiting lists. I saw ten clients a day, four days a week. People knocked on my door to meet me and try to get a session while I was in session with someone else. I was miserable. It was sickening sitting there, stuck in chair, stuck listening to the banality and monotony of other people’s problems, all the day. There is nothing more tormenting and banal than other people’s problems. The worst part of my work as a psychologist was having to be happy to see each client. To treat each client like they were my first client of the day when in reality, after my second client, I was not happy to see my third client. It was tormenting. Having to be fake to keep my reputation good. Having to care about people I could not stand. Having to have conversations with people who were so boring that they could make glaciers melt with their words. No, I am a psychologist no more. It was not the right fit for me. I am already a person who is not fit for human interaction. I had no business being a psychologist. What a miserable career. But now I do not own many nice towels. The towels I do have were once nice. A relic from my more economically prosperous days. But towels age just like we do. Now that I am not a psychologist I can not afford the luxuries. When I was a psychologist I had a multitude of luxuries but could not enjoy them. I have to make do with the towels I have for now. I try to take care of them. I try to slow their aging. As a result of once being a successful psychologist I have collected an arsenal of nice things. Nice clothes, nice furniture, nice eye glasses, nice stereo equipment and on and on. But now that I am not a psychologist I must preserve the nice things I acquired as a result of my miserable job. It’s ok. Luxuries did not make me happy. After the initial thrill of buying a nice thing wore off I lost interest in it. I am better off preserving what I have. But good towels did make me happy for a period of time. I miss the presence of good towels. New towles. There are consequences from the choices we make

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s