For the past seven years, I’ve been chronically depressed, and, oh, the trials and tribulations I’ve encountered. Some horrendous, but others, as I’m about to explain, not so bad. In fact, if it weren’t for being sick, some (selected) wonders would have remained completely unknown to me. Weird how that happens.
Some boring background first: I was coming onto my third year of being sick. A struggling, (mainly) self-supporting university undergraduate, I was forced to accept defeat and crawl home to the parental fold. This left me with some money to play with, for the first time in a very long time. Not for food, or prescribed texts, or sheet music, or rent.
So armed with some cash and determined to find a non-pharmaceutical way to alleviate my many depressive symptoms, I decided a good way to go was by trial-testing various bath products. I’d decided that I was going to give regular bathing – for relaxation purposes – a bit of a revival. Would it work?
Ah, the humble tub! Why the hell had I ignored it for so long? I came from England, where the bathtub was all there was. No shower cubicles, or shower heads (many-fangled shower-like attachments now exist, but not 20 or so years ago). Before you ask, yes, we were in the habit of bathing more than once a week, despite living in England, so none of those jokes.
When my family first moved to Australia, the notion of a bathroom having both a tub and a shower cubicle seemed like pure genius to me. I was only eight at the time. To a kid straight out of Thatcher's England, the bath-shower combination seemed excessive and opulent, in a cheesy Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous kind of way. Oh those '80s.
As my brother and I entered adulthood a decade later, it occurred to me that none of the family took those gloriously indulgent soaks I recalled from when we first arrived here. No one ever had time – not even for a yearly one. There were some explanations offered: “I’ll have one on my day off, when I can enjoy it more,” or “It’s too much trouble to clean afterwards,” or “Too many things to do today,” – very grown-up reasons, I thought.
Or excuses, perhaps?
Were we really that busy that we all had our ready-made excuses for avoiding the chance to melt our worries away in nice, warm water and get clean simultaneously?
My mother is easily the busiest person in our family. She looks after most of the housekeeping, works part-time as a nurse (not the easiest of occupations), and has a family overseas that she also looks after, both emotionally and financially. She’s always exhausted and aching. Despite my continuous begging, she never consents to taking a relaxing bath, which is sad. It could do so much for her mood, and replenish her energy levels, not to mention loosen tight, knotted muscles. Sadly, for both our sanities (alas, she is not the most serene of persons to live with at times), she never takes the time to take time out.
Article comments
1 - Violet
I could not agree with you more. There are not many things that soothe me more than a bath. The enveloping warmth, that solitary moment. Bliss.
I do hope you can coax you're mum into having one some day, she won't look back!
2 - Snarkattack
Hi Violet, tell me about it. The poor woman works so damn hard, she could really do with the break, but all I hear is excuses...I'll keep working on it though.
In fact, I intend on having one myself tonight. I could do with a moment of bliss.
3 - Scott Butki
I tend to read while in the bath and try to take a warm bath 3 nites a week (I shower daily, for the record.)
The trick is in the reading selection. A newspaper, for example, is problematic. Believe me I've tried it.
Large books like Tom Clancy's are good to read if you want to work on strengthening your arm muscles.
Lately, though, I save articles I want to read with total concentration and place them next to
the tub.
Good piece.
4 - Mayank 'Austen' Singh
Ah, there are few more orgasmic pleasures in life than re-reading a Jane Austen or a Shakespeare in a bath tub filled with pleasantly hot water. It oozes out the exhaustion from the tired pores of the body, and fills them with a new rush of life-giving optimism. And how doubly soothing it is if the bath tub is shared with the naked naked companionship of a lover. Both of us re-reading two different books...and our bodies brushing off against each other from time to time......and when it becomes too much distracting, we make sweet nice familiar love and then again go back to our re-readings...till the next moment of desire.....aaahhh....
5 - Snarkattack
Hi Scott,
Thanks :)
I'm a total klutz - you wouldn't believe the amount of books I've partially destroyed when reading in the bath. Besides, I read so much I figure it wouldn't hurt too much to make bathtime word-free. Plus, I'm a bit too old to get away with reading those waterproof bath books. That'd look a little sad, I fear!
Ah yes, Mayank, sharing a bath with one's lover is indeed a treat! Though I've never read in the bath when I've company. There's the added benefit of having someone to lovingly scrub your back for you too. A bath can still be blissful without a companion, I do hope people will take note of that.
6 - larry
i am a great supporter of warm baths for soothing the soul. there is nothing more relaxing.. sometimes i fall asleep. unfortunally i have never had the pleasure of having a parner in the tub. when i get in a tub thereis no room for any one else,
7 - Snarkattack
Indeed Larry!
Baths are indeed soul-soothing!
Solitary baths are much more relaxing in a way, you don't have to worry about accidentally kicking so-and-so in a tender spot, or getting bathwater all over the place in an attempt to make room for your partner. The shared bath has its hazards!
8 - diana hartman
I am pleased to tell you this article is being featured in the Culture Focus today, August 15.
Diana Hartman
Culture Editor
9 - Snarkattack
Wow, thanks! I'm extremely flattered.