Month: February 2021

If you ever want to get comfortable with your own body, I recommend getting naked with a bunch of strangers. Now, I don’t mean that you need to strip down in the grocery store or go streaking down Main Street, but I if there is a clothing optional hot springs near by it would be a good idea to get out of your comfort zone and give it a go. Recently I was gifted a weekend getaway to Napa. Upon arrival I was informed that the spa in the hotel was closed and that the rooms no longer had tubs. Disappointed, I began searching for alternatives. I was delighted to find out that the hot springs I used to visit with Scott was reopened after burning down in 2015. I knew this would be the perfect solution to the relaxation I was seeking.  The next morning as I drove through the wine country looking forward to getting naked and soaking in the healing waters and the sunshine, I reflected on how far I have come with my body image and being naked. 

As a child I was extremely modest. One of my earliest memories was being sent outside to play in the rain on a hot day in Ohio without a shirt. At four years old I was absolutely mortified that I was outside half naked. My mom scooted me out the door, insisting that at four years old I had nothing to hide. As I got out to the yard I noticed my older brother and his friends approaching the house on their bikes. Covering my chest with my arms I shrank in embarrassment, looking for somewhere to hide. There couldn’t have been anything worse than for them to see me naked. This was long before I began to measure myself against the media’s idea of beauty and what my body should look like, which just further drove my modesty and self image into the ground. It wasn’t until nearly 30 years later that I had my first encounter with the hot springs and becoming more comfortable in my own skin.

In 2005 Scott and I wanted to get away for the weekend alone. We needed a break from the kids and the day to day stress. Searching the internet for the perfect location, we came across Harbin Hot Springs. The website talked about the hot, warm and cold spring fed pools along with hiking trails, spa treatments and delicious organic food to eat. This sounded familiar and I remembered that a client had told me about this place. She happily called it her “naked place” and her favorite spot to relax and rejuvenate.  While the idea of getting naked with a bunch of strangers did not interest me, it actually created a lot of anxiety, I was curious about the healing aspects of the spring waters. It sounded like the perfect spot for our getaway. To my relief, the website said that the pools were clothing optional, which meant not only that I didn’t have to get naked, but also that this was not a nudist resort as clothing was required outside of the pool areas. I told Scott that he could do whatever he wanted, but that I was wearing my swimsuit, thank you very much. 

We arrived at the hot springs just before nightfall, found our way to the campsite, pitched our tent, and settled in. By the time we headed down the wooded trail to find the pools it was 9:30pm. At the top of the hill the trail opened up to the pool area. We stood there a moment to take in the scene and locate the building where we could change. A sign pointed us straight ahead to the building on the other side of what seemed like a sea of naked bodies between us and that building.  Awkwardly, we made our way through the crowd and into the building where we found lockers, showers and both men and women undressing in the open. This was unlike anything I had imagined and it quickly became apparent to me that wearing my red swimsuit would make me stand out, which was the last thing I wanted. The only way I would be able to blend in would be to get naked.

As instructed by the signs, we showered before heading to the pools. While in the shower the plan formed in my mind. I wouldn’t wear my swim suit, but I didn’t have to walk around naked. I could just keep my towel on me until I got into the pool. No problem, I thought, as I stepped out of the shower, wrapping my towel tightly around my chest. I found Scott waiting outside the changing room, stark naked, towel folded neatly under his arm like nothing was amiss. “Ready?” he says. “Aren’t you cold?!” I insisted. He just laughed, shaking his head at me as he turned and headed to the pools. Crap, here we go. There was no turning back now.

Tightly grasping the towel to keep in in place, I followed my husband up the stairs to the meditation pool. He hung his towel on the railing and made his way into the pool, wading through the water past the naked bodies to find us a spot next to the edge. Trying to act casual, I released the grasp of the towel and hung it on the railing next to his as I awkwardly stepped into the pool completely naked with about ten other naked strangers. Once settled by the edge with Scott in the water, I felt more at ease and began to relax. That wasn’t so bad, I thought, and the water did feel amazing. 

I noticed a sign by the pool that read “Meditation Zone, Please keep area free of conversation and sexual activity.” That was a relief.  It is awkward enough to be naked with a bunch of stranger than to worry about someone striking up a conversation or worse finding myself in the middle of an orgy. This was a place of meditation.  Everyone around us was immersed  in their own private meditation zone. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and relaxed a little more.

As we soaked I couldn’t help but notice the people walking in and out of the pool area. It was impossible not to look, and I couldn’t help but to compare all of the different body shapes. Years of conditioning by the media began to fade away as I saw what real human bodies look like. There were many different shaped breasts, from small and perky to long and hanging. Bellies, butts and unmentionables of every shape and size with nothing resembling the images we are fed of what people are supposed to look like.  I’m not saying this as a judgement, but rather as an observation. The only naked bodies I had seen before this were mine, my husband, my children and photoshopped photos in magazines. It was uncomfortable at first, but after a while I found it profound and liberating to see real human beings, rather than perfect, touched up and filtered images we are bombarded with everyday.

By midway through the next day, I had abandoned the security of my towel and walked from pool to pool, no longer concerned with my nakedness. I immersed myself in the meditative energy of the healing waters and let go of a whole lot of stress. It was like being transported to a whole different world and I was so relaxed that at one point I thought I would just evaporate and drift into the cosmos.  

I noticed how people carried themselves as they arrived in their street clothes compared to how they carried themselves into the pools. Without shoes, bags, and clothing labels to give clues about their status, occupation or way of life, there was only the shared experience of being human. 

During the past last year with the pandemic, I have not taken the best care of my body and am not in the same shape I was in before it all started. I felt embarrassed that even with my recent attention to getting back to yoga and eating better, I still don’t feel quite like myself.  So the idea of getting naked in front of anyone filled me with anxiety, but I knew that my need for soaking in the waters outweighed my insecurities about my body and I would just have to get over it. 

Upon arrival I saw the signs that said that masks were required on the property at all times, even in the pools. For a moment I panicked when I realized that I had not packed a swim suit or a towel. I was worried that the new restrictions would mean clothing was no longer optional but mandatory and I would wind up being the only naked person there and somehow in trouble. Ha!  The lady behind the counter assured me that everything was still the same and I didn’t need my suit and there were towels for sale. I paid for my registration and a towel and headed to the pool giggling to myself about how far I have come since that first visit. 

I spent the afternoon alternating between the warm, hot and cold pools, lounging and reading on the deck in the sun. Other than everyone wearing masks and keeping the appropriate 6ft distancing, the vibe was the same as it had been on that first visit. Laying there on the deck I drifted in and out of sleep, delighting in the feeling of the warm sun and the gentle breeze on my skin. I reconnected with that feeling I had discovered there many years ago. It felt free, liberating and perfectly human to be naked, and it was exactly what I needed.

Recently the man that I have been seeing for about a year said to me that he didn’t understand why I was still with him. After all, saying that I am seeing him is more a figurative statement than an actual reality. The reality is that I have only seen him for a few hours over the past few months and that time has been mostly spent holding space for him to process his life situation, which has been spinning out with no sign of settling anytime soon.  His statement hit me hard. This isn’t the first time a man has said this to me and it is far from the first time that I have held space and waited while my needs have been left unmet.

When I was around six months old, my parents divorced. I have no recollection of them being together, or of him living with us. There is one family portrait that was taken when my brother was a baby. My mom is holding him on her lap as my dad stands behind them with his arm around her, looking like the happy couple. It was taken a couple of years before I was born and there was never a family picture taken after I was born of us all together. My family, as I knew it, consisted of my mom and brother which to me nothing was perfectly normal.  That all changed the day my friend asked me where my dad was.  At seven years old this question was puzzling to me. I didn’t understand why she wanted to know or more importantly why it mattered. Looking back I realize that in the 70’s in small town Ohio, none of my friends had divorced parents. More concerning than the question itself was that I didn’t have an answer. 

When I got home from school I asked my mom why dad didn’t live with us.  As it turned out, my dad was an alcoholic and he had chosen to leave her for another woman rather than stay and help with the raising of my brother and me. He never paid child support and she had been left to care for us on her own.  He wasn’t a bad person, my mom explained, just a victim of his alcoholism that he wasn’t strong enough to overcome the disease.  She assured me that this was no reflection of me and that he loved me in his own way, but that he just had a hard time showing it. Satisfied with this story, I went on about my life, unconcerned about the fact that he wasn’t there. Unfortunately, this was not the end of this conversation.

The summer I turned 13 my brother returned home after living with my dad for 3 years. One afternoon he sat me down in our living room and proceeded to make a case for our dad. He shared with me that dad asked about me all the time and wanted to to be a part of my life and get to know me. The problem was that he was afraid that I didn’t want him around and this prevented him from reaching out. My brother assured me that dad loved me very much and urged me to consider giving the man a chance. he asked me to find it in myself to forgive him and to have compassion for his struggle with alcoholism.  He thought I should reach out to him, to write him a letter since he was so afraid that I would reject him. In short, I needed to hold space for my dad. 

This conversation led to the day when my Dad made arrangements to come see me. The plan was for him to pick me up from my grandparent’s house at noon so that we could spend some quality time together, just the two of us. Though I hadn’t realized that I wanted this connection, the thought of my dad wanting to spend time with me, filled me with all kinds of hope and expectations of the relationship to be.  I had no concept of what that looked like, but I was willing to see what he had to say. Noon came and went and after hours of waiting, my Dad did not show up. 

Convinced that something must have gone wrong, my Mom and brother went out to search for him. Hours later, they came back to report that they found him, drunk and regretful at the local bar. Apparently, too ashamed to come see he said that he couldn’t face under these conditions. I was asked again to understand his behavior as being nothing to do with me but to do with his alcoholism and again I was assured that he loved me but that he just wasn’t strong enough to show up. 

There are countless books and articles written on the subject of the importance of the father/daughter bond and how it relates to her ability to have healthy relationships as an adult. I have always wondered what that means for someone whose father wasn’t present at all, but now I think that the real damage was created by being asked to accept his behavior. More importantly, even though they had good intentions, my mom and brother never asked me what I wanted or how I felt about having my dad in my life. The truth is that I didn’t want or need a relationship with my dad at the time, and honestly think I would have been better to be left alone. Instead, I learned to hold space for someone who should have been holding space for my development and also that my feelings and needs did not matter. Unfortunately, I was also learning that this was what love looked like. For me, Love was wrapped up in a box of unavailability and tied with a bow of excuses. All of which I accepted with a patient smile and endless understanding. 

About a year ago I met a man on Facebook. We immediately hit it off, finding a shared sense of humor and playfulness that kept us in stitches of laughter for hours at a time. This humor gave birth to a friendship that bloomed quickly into a love affair like no other. Not only was he funny, smart, and quite handsome, this man actually showed up for me in ways I had never been showed up for before. For the first time since Scott had passed, I felt safe. Not only safe to be vulnerable but also safe to completely be myself.  Finally an end to the excuses and unavailability, this man put me first and it felt wonderful. 

A few months into the relationship, as often happens, reality reared its ugly head. His life situation became overwhelming and our relationship had to take a back burner while he worked to get his life in order.  Over the past few months the relationship I once knew has slowly become a distant memory, and I find myself waiting for things to return to normal. So, when he said to me that he didn’t understand why I was still with him or how I was able to deal with the fact that he could not show up for me, I realized I was just doing what I was conditioned to do. The truth is, that I understand that his situation needs to take priority over our relationship. The problem is, that when he told me that I would probably be better off moving on with my life without him since he didn’t know if or when things would change, I didn’t move on. Instead, I dug in and held on for dear life to this man who had actually shown up for me. Holding onto hope that my patience and understanding would be enough. I thought that if I just gave him a chance things would turn around.

That is when it hit me. I recognized the familiar feeling of disappointment of the little girl waiting for her dad to finally show up. My dad died 10 years ago without ever showing up for me the way that I needed. Even though I understand and have compassion for the reasons he wasn’t there, it doesn’t mean that I don’t deserve to have someone show up for me in way that I need. It is ok for me to want that and until that happens I can do a better job of showing up for myself.

While I gave my attention to holding space and helping him work out his problems, I was setting my needs and feelings aside. I am learning that it is ok to take a break and be less available to him while I become more available to give myself the love and care I have been missing. As I place my energy into activities I enjoy, I am finding a renewed energy and hope.

I don’t know wether or not this relationship will return to what it once was or perhaps something better. However, I do know that my relationship with myself has been strengthened  by getting quiet and holding space for my own healing.  For that I am grateful.