My workplace is rough. I regularly interact with an at-risk population. Some days I wonder how I make it through. The adrenaline rush compares to ducking from a fastball aimed at the ear. When I cannot get out of the way, the ball hits me square in the temple.
I use a single-stall bathroom at the end of my hall as soon as I get the chance at 12:45 p.m. I go in. I deadbolt the door. I pretend not to hear the commotion coming from outside. I splash cold water on my face. I sit on the toilet but not always to poop. I don't always pee either.
I sit on the toilet to put my head in my hands and rub my eyes with my palms. I think about how incredible my sanctuary is.
"This is awesome," I say out loud. I wonder how many of my coworkers do the same thing.
8:45 a.m., the time I use the same bathroom. My time in this restroom is not spent rejoicing in the end of the day, but grumbling about the rest of the day I still have to tackle. Next time I will think of you and your happier times in the lavatory.
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