Hi, nice to meet you. I don’t have a colon.
This is the first thing I want to say to every new person I meet. Clients who I’m working for, friends of friends, a new teacher, waitresses, anyone and everyone. Hi, nice to meet you, I don’t have a colon. Why? Because I’m ashamed and I want you to like me. Because I don’t have the privilege of confining my bowel movements to the comfort of my home (unless I become a hermit) and I dont want you to think I’m disgusting. Realtime? I currently have a Ileostomy. In simple terms this consists of a loop of my small intestine (called a stoma) sticking out of my abdomen and a bag to catch “output” (that’s the Ostomy world’s pleasant name for shit) that is adhesively stuck my abdomen and needs to be emptied all day. Every day. My stoma doesn’t care if I am at a job, or at your house or if the only option is the most degraded Starbucks bathroom in town. My stoma’s job is to expel waste and she’s an overachiever, and oh yeah, sometimes she’s loud. Given all that, do you still think you made the best choice hiring me/being my friend/lover/collaborator? Yeah, me neither and I’m under the false impression that your acceptance will free me from my own self rejection. WRONG. BZZZ. Sorry, incorrect.
I get it. The general consensus when it comes to Ostomies and all things of the bowel is; “Keep that shit to yourself” or at least whisper in the dark to a very select few. We are living in this amazing time. #metoo, #timesup, black lives matter, LGBTQ rights. But …keep THAT SHIT TO YOURSELF. Whether or not you admit it, deep down you want nothing to do with me and my shit. You want nothing to do with your own shit. So I hide. I wear overalls everyday in public and protect my secret bag. I protect me from it. I protect you from it. You see healthy, competent, woman and I hope you don’t wonder too long about why I am often sticking my hands in my overalls or that it takes me longer than “normal” to use the bathroom, or that I rarely say yes to social plans after 6PM.
My fear keeps us both safe. We get to deny our pain, the vulnerability of our bodies, and stay in the fuzzy confines of social acceptability and the often limited access this gives us to the enormity of our hearts. I deny us both the possible gift of a moment of connection, where I am honest and brave and you get to greet me with acceptance. Yes, what I have said is very black and white, all or nothing. I know my bag o’ shit isn’t something I need to shout from the rooftops, as much as it shouldn’t be something that must be sequestered away in a deep dungeon. It belongs in a middle place, somewhere grey and flexible and far less dramatic than this picture of extremes I have painted. A place where I and you are both worthy of love and life and laughter and sorrow and more love and more life no matter the status of our bowels. A place where it is no longer about fear and shame but rather dignity and discernment. A place that allows space to honor myself by keeping my secrets and a moment when it is time to let them roar.
So just for right now, here on this screen, let’s be brave together you and I, and broken wide open…Hi, nice to meet you, I don’t have a colon.
