When the pandemic began, there was a crazy run on toilet paper. Oy vey! An African client told me about exclaiming to his mother, “I don’t get it about this toilet paper thing. Americans don’t know how to clean their butts!” He explained to me that in his country their custom is to wash themselves with special cloths. For him, the TP “shortage” was kind of a joke.
In a fancy hotel in Cuba, I was fascinated by the bidet. I had never seen one of those before. When I texted the picture to my dear friend who is well-traveled all over Europe, she was intimately acquainted with them. I had a Greek boyfriend who squatted on the toilet seat—a balancing act I had never seen anyone do before. Admittedly I tried and never pulled it off too successfully. How often do we see what anyone does in the bathroom?
When we were kids, our dad used to go to the bathroom to hide or read. He might be in there for an hour. There was only one bathroom in our little apartment, but we knew not to knock or disturb. And admittedly, sometimes the man-sized odors made us want to run for it…
How we move our bowels is another of those unspeakable body functions, and like sex, no one really knows what anyone else does. We all think we are supposed to know and that whatever might seem different from the imagined “normal” is a point of shame. With neglect, where the experience is “no one gives a s—”, there is even less information shared, and sometimes even potty training or something as fundamental as having one’s diapers changed is missing.
I recently learned that one’s bathroom routine or ritual is as personal and unique as one’s walk or signature. Not only culture and experience but individual style shapes it. The same is true for how one thinks about it.
How we move our bowels is another of those unspeakable body functions, and like sex, no one really knows what anyone else does. We all think we are supposed to know and that whatever might seem different from the imagined “normal” is a point of shame.
Historically Speaking
Historically, humans have not been so squeamish about bowel function. In fact, before the heart was thought of as the “seat” of emotion, it was the bowels. In the Song of Solomon, one of the great love missives of all time, Solomon wrote:
“My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him.”
Voltaire was credited with saying:
“Persons who have an easy movement in the morning are the favorites of nature. They are sweet, affable, thoughtful, gracious and efficient. No words have more grace than a yes in the mouth of the constipated.” (Wow!)
Oscar Wilde’s Lady Chatterley “moved her bowels for the gatekeeper.” It would seem that Des Cartes’ mind-body split might have been a factor.
On the flip side, I remember one of the most rejecting insults a kid could make was, “I hate your guts!” That would imply something pretty essential.
Not long ago, I had a client extremely hesitantly recount not one but two recent episodes of leaking stool. (This same client had suffered an agonizing months-long bout of treatment-resistant constipation: a hideous parade of miserable visits to a spectrum of practitioners. I can’t remember how it finally remitted. It seems so long ago now.)
The recent “leak” was just “a little bit,” but she was horrified. Post-menopausal, it had happened twice over a period of several years. It was a push to reveal it, or expose herself that way, even to me. She was surprised to learn that it is a not uncommon fact of aging.
I was similarly blindsided by the advent of urinary incontinence when I got into my 60’s. No one had warned me that is a not uncommon side-effect of menopause. I learned the hard way after being surprised by a flood, thankfully in the privacy of a gym locker room. It was a blessing that men may readily experience the same thing, and my husband knew every bathroom in the Bay Area for our longer bike rides.
I had another client once, an attractive sixty-something woman, impeccably dressed in Chanel suits, perfectly accessorized with Louis Vuitton bags, who matter-of-factly reported “fecal incontinence.” She was not alarmed about it, and she was not a child of neglect. It was a simple element of aging that one had to take precautions to manage—no big deal.
Constipation
I learned long ago that constipation is generally a communication of fear and terror. We have all heard the term “scared s—less.” In fact, when a mammal is under threat, and of course this includes us, priority goes to the survival functions of fight and/or flight. We don’t have the luxury of being able to commit energy to a “non-essential” body function like digestion. So that may stop for a while until the danger passes and the body returns to whatever homeostasis or regulation is possible for that organism or person.
Interestingly for humans, 30-40% of our energy is consumed by digestion. The Latin cultures have the right idea by observing siestas after their main meal, although I don’t know if they do that anymore.
Clearly, constipation can be a clear communication from the body of fear and terror or the body “speaking” to us about what is not consciously known or felt. A challenge of healing is learning to listen to these nonverbal utterances, and as parents, teachers, therapists and citizens of the world, making it safe and acceptable to speak out loud about body functions: dispelling the shame.
I remember “constipated” as being an insulting euphemism for “uptight” or not forthcoming. (“Anal” was used the same way.) It can, however, be essential information that informs treatment planning. It is certainly a point of inquiry or a marker of hyperarousal when doing neurofeedback assessment.
Laxative abuse, or manipulating the digestive function, can be a symptom of or an eating disorder in its own right. As with sex, we must learn to listen and learn to speak with respect and curiosity, without taboo, shame or jest, about functions and dysfunctions that we all share.
It appears that Japan is ahead of us in this way. I discovered a “poop’ or “unko” museum.
Unfortunately, I cannot read Japanese, so I am not sure how to visit the virtual venue. But it is cheerful and natural and worth having a look at, at least to me. Like Voltaire, it portrays an “easy movement” as cause for celebration. Why not? Cheap thrills for the regulated? Another incentive for regulation? At the very least, an indicator of regulation and progress in recovery from trauma and neglect.
My husband’s grandfather was known for saying, “Never pass up a chance to fill your stomach or empty your bladder.” We might make an addendum to those words to live by!
Addendum: Poop in a Box
The recent ‘poop’ blog brought such a response that due to popular demand, I wanted to add one more little piece. Many with trauma and/or sexual trauma receive their doctor’s prescription for colonoscopy with dread and paralysis. In the US, it is recommended to get one regularly after age 50 for early detection of colon cancer, but many simply do not do it.
After I was 60, I finally took the hint. With a history of cancer in my family, this was not smart! I learned to my relief that I could fill the prescription with a ‘poop in a box’ system prescribed by my doctor. The specially designed box was delivered by FedEx and came with all the necessary instructions and accouterments. FedEx also picked it up, and it was done and gone. Poof, wiped away! I imagine for some medical conditions, and also in some geographic areas, it might not be available. However, maintaining health and safety while navigating trauma healing is a balancing act already. It may be worth looking into.
And because I can’t help myself, I will add that a ‘high point’ in Everest climber Silvia Vasquez-Lavado’s recent book In the Shadow of the Mountain, to be reviewed in a future blog, is when she not so happily poops at the cruising altitude of 30,000 feet! You can look forward to that!
As we used to say in junior high, “hope everything comes out alright!”
Each time I write a blog, I always try to think of a song that I love that goes with what I’ve written. Today’s is People Like Us by Talking Heads.
My book “Working with the Developmental Trauma of Childhood Neglect: Using Psychotherapy and Attachment Theory Techniques in Clinical Practice” was published on August 31st. It provides psychotherapists with a multidimensional view of childhood neglect and a practical roadmap for facilitating survivors’ healing.