The Ideas That Wash Away

The quiet courage of stepping into the water at all

I do my best thinking in the shower.
I don’t know why exactly — maybe it’s the white noise, maybe it’s the warmth, maybe it’s the way the world falls away for a few minutes — but it’s true for me. The shower is where the threads line up, where the ideas arrive unfiltered, where the truth gets brave enough to speak.

And then, just as quickly, it’s gone.

Some of my best content bursts, insights, and story‑seeds have come to me in that little steam‑filled box, only to dissolve the moment I step out. It’s like the water carries them in and carries them out, as if they were never meant to be held in their first form. They arrive as sparks, not drafts. Signals, not scripts.

And then there are the other moments — the ones that make absolutely no sense.
The “what the heck, Brain” moments.
Like the morning I was quietly thinking, minding my own business, and out of nowhere my brain started blasting the theme from Titanic. No warning. No context. No way to backtrack through the branches of thought to figure out how I got from “hmm, I should write that down later” to “full‑volume emotional shipwreck soundtrack.”

My brain is a mystery. A hilarious, chaotic, occasionally unhinged mystery. But upon further reflection, that ‘emotional shipwreck’ makes perfect sense, so maybe it wasn't so random. Just my brain, braining things that have deep, but not always obvious ties.

Here is the potentially TMI, the parts I don’t hear people talk about enough: I haven’t been showering much lately.

For those of us with anxiety, with mental health struggles, with neurodivergent wiring — it’s not as simple as turn water on, get in shower.
People say it like it’s one step. It isn’t.

A “simple shower” breaks into a hundred micro‑steps that other people don’t even register:

• Find the towel

• Turn the knob

• Wait for the hot water

  • Goodness this wastes so much water, people in Africa would weep

• Adjust the temperature

  • This was the perfect spot last time, today it is too….

• Undress

  • Holy buckets the laundry…

• Step in

  • One day I will remember to duck my head through the sliding door, but it was not this day (Or many others before it) 

• Get your hair wet

  • Okay this feels good, why don’t I do this more often?

• Shampoo

  • Various thoughts about the bar soaps I use

• Rinse

  • Perfect time for that ax murder to get me… I locked the door right?

• Condition

  • Oh this way works much better, wish I had known that ¾’s of a bar ago. I am going to need to grab another one soon. Town errands and other things and suddenly I have 4 lists running. 

• Rinse again

  • Did I miss a step? What would I fight back with in here… Hmm the razor might be it, this is a security flaw. 

• Wash your face

  • Man I have got to get some scrubby face wash!

• Wash your body

  • This loofa is toooo small. (Well, grab the bigger loofa pad out of the cabinet)

• Shave, maybe

  • My legs are just too much effort, god I look like an grizzly bear

• Rinse again 

  • Stand in the the hot water and let it relax as much as it can

• Turn the water off

  • Start the process of freezing your butt off

• Step out

  • Continue to freeze

• Dry off

  • Yeah, still freezing, the water was so nice and warm….

• Lotion

  • Oh who has time for lotion, I have a huge to do list, and that's not on it today!

• Clothes

  • Why didn't I set clothes out before I turned the water on? 

• Hair care

  • Sensory issues or not, my hair is down and in my face bothering me for the next 3 hours as it dries. 

• Cleanup

Every one of those is a task.
Every one of those is a decision.
Every one of those is a moment where your brain can say, “I don’t have it in me today.”

I KNOW I need to shower every day.
I KNOW it helps me.
And yet there are days where the endless list of shower‑tasks is simply something I cannot conquer.

“Just get undressed and get in the water, it’s not hard.”

Oh my well‑meaning friend…Your ignorance is showing. Maybe go back up and re-read that list, and add dozens more subthoughts and branches that I couldn’t articulate for each sub point. 

A shower is hundreds of micro‑steps that your brain is capable of grouping.
Mine isn’t. And I’m not alone in that. I wonder sometimes if that’s why some people avoid the shower altogether.

Not just because of the micro‑steps.
Not just because of the sensory overwhelm.
But because the shower is one of the last places in modern life where you can’t distract yourself from your own mind.

No phone.
No scrolling.
No background noise.
No tasks to hide inside.

Just you. Your thoughts. And the water.

For some people, that’s the hardest part.

Because when the world finally goes quiet, the mind gets loud.
The thoughts you’ve been pushing down all day rise up.
The feelings you’ve been outrunning catch up.
The questions you don’t want to ask start whispering.

And if thinking feels dangerous — if stillness feels threatening — then of course the shower becomes a place to avoid.

It’s not the water.
It’s the silence.
It’s the clarity.
It’s the way the mind has nowhere else to go.

And if you’ve ever stood there, frozen at the edge of the tub, knowing that stepping in means stepping into your own thoughts… I see you.

So if you’re someone who struggles with the shower, this is meant to feel like a bowl of soup placed gently in front of you.
Warm.
Soft.
No demands.

An “I see you” for the days when even the basics feel impossible.

To the people who think clearly in the shower: I see you.
To the people who avoid the shower because clarity hurts: I see you too.
To the people who want the ideas but can’t always get themselves into the water, you’re not broken.
To the people whose brilliance washes away- it wasn’t lost; it just wasn’t ready to be held yet.
To the people whose brains randomly cue up dramatic movie soundtracks for no reason; you’re in good company.
To the people who are doing their best with the energy they have, that’s enough.

The ideas that come in the shower are gifts, not obligations.
They’re reminders that something inside you is still alive, still sparking, still reaching for expression, even if the rest of you is tired.

If all you can manage this week is one shower, or even just thinking about taking one, or even just turning on the water and walking away — that counts.

That’s progress.
That’s courage.
That’s enough.