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The Ass Cramp Epiphany

Major ass cramp yesterday.

The Mister and I hopped into our old pick up and headed to our ski cabin to check on the renovations. A nice Saturday drive, plus I’d negotiated a stop for cheeseburgers on the way out of town. We were about to pull onto the highway when I got a call from one of our boys.

“Hey, I have the day off work,” he said. “Are you and Dad up to anything interesting?” My heart swelled with joy to know that my 20-year-old son wanted to hang out with us on his day off.

“We are about to hit McDonalds and go check on the cabin. Want to ride along? We’ll buy you lunch.”

“Definitely!” he said and I turned to my husband. “Things are going to be squishier than expected but the good news is that our kid wants to come with us.”

As we detoured to pick him up I rearranged my belongs in the confines of the pickup and slid to the centre spot, propping my feet onto the raised hump of the floor. Suddenly my purse seemed unnecessary – why did I bring that and why is it so huge? The only place for it was between my feet. (Thank heavens the truck isn’t a stick shift!) My clip board and paint samples were essential and must not get dirty, so I perched them carefully against my leg. My knees were just below my eyes, but it was the only option to create space for a third passenger. Discomfort was overshadowed by the pleasure of my son’s company.

Soon the drive-thru presented additional challenges, as balancing lunch is near impossible when one’s legs are at a 75 degree angle. Again, I focused on the delights of a junk-food treat and ignored the alarming messages coming from my torso and legs.

Everything’s fine, I’m okay! I have a cheeseburger, the Mister on my left and my son on my right. The sun is shining and we are driving to the mountains to check out this great project. I can manage. Pain began announcing itself but I had to ignore it. We had a lovely trip otherwise, all four hours of it.

Once back home, both fellows jumped out of the truck but I remained stuck. With my legs still folded into an unnatural position, I rolled sideways onto the seat and slowly extended my feet forward. I was well aware that this was a less-than-attractive move but I had no choice. I was the Tin Man in need of oil. I wiggled and shimmied off the bench seat and out of the door, praying my legs would hold me upright once I hit the ground.

“Everythings fine! I’m okay!” I chirped with relief as I landed, but the others were already walking away.

“Remember to lock it” my husband offered over his shoulder, a necessary reminder because I always forget that this base-model pickup has manual locks and have left the passenger door open more times than I can count.

As the evening rolled around I developed the deadened pain of the dreaded Ass-Cramp Hangover (a.k.a. ACH). ACH isn’t officially listed on webMD or the Mayo Clinic site, but I know from experience that it is a debilitating condition.

While watching tv, I couldn’t tolerate another moment of discomfort and jumped up. I threw myself forward at the waist and dangled my torso, feeling a sweet release as muscles pull out of their knotted grip down my back and behind my legs.

‘OH MY GOD!” I shouted alarmingly. “THIS FEELS FUCKING FANTASTIC!!”

My husband tossed me a deadpan gaze. Does anything surprise him?

“Oh  God, oooooooh God,” I moaned almost sensually. “Oh this iiiiiiiiis incredible.” He continued to stare with growing interest – who could blame him? I was putting on quite a show. Good thing our son had gone home.

I leaned further forward and put my palms flat on the floor in an awkward grandma version of downward dog.

“Get over here and DO this!” I commanded. “You can’t believe how good it feels. Seriously,’ I gushed, “when was the last time you even touched your toes? It’s wonderful! You’ve GOT to DO this!”

It occurs to me now that an upside down pose can’t be attractive for my aging face, even when flush with near-orgasmic pleasure. My sparkling eyes may have looked dangerous from his vantage point.

The Mister responded from the sofa with one word: “Nope.”

What a metaphor for life. We contort ourselves painfully to endure situations that legitimately justify discomfort.  It can take all forms: The hated job that pays well; the rude relative that mustn’t be offended; the convenient coffee shop that never gets orders right.  The older we get the higher the stakes, and the more accepting we become of inevitable pain. When we move in opposition to discomfort, the relief is so joyous we want to share it with everyone.

(Join my church! Join my recovery program! Try these vitamins! Meditate! Pray! Floss! Buy these moistened butt wipes! )

But seriously, when is the last time you touched your toes? What everyday childhood pleasures have been forgotten, and what is stopping you from enjoying them right now? When was the last time you looked for shapes in the clouds or broke into a skipping trot?

I urge you, I dare you.

Take a moment in the shower to pull your lathered hair up to a point above your head. Peek into the mirror and see how it looks.

Stick a straw into chocolate milk and blow some bubbles. (For that matter, when did you last order  chocolate milk?)

Buy yourself a KinderSurprise at the market checkout (American friends, you might have to Google that – I hear rumours you’re deprived.)

Twirl until you’re dizzy, hop up the stairs like a bunny, do ten jumping jacks in the kitchen.

Jumping, hopping, and being goofy feel good in a way we have forgotten to enjoy. I guarantee every one of these things will make you smile. Avoid that zany “look at me having fun!” mode just do it for your own pleasure. Say hello to those primitive impulses you stuffed down during adolescence as you tried to appear “grown up”; go back when you felt fully safe to be yourself.

Because oddly enough, everything I have learned about being an authentic person involves stripping away the layers of protection I built around my younger self. I stopped doing things that felt good and made me happy because I worried what others would think.

We can’t stop life from giving us ass-cramps, and life shouldn’t keep us from rediscovering the simplest of joyful remedies.

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About UnPickled

I am learning to walk without the crutch of alcohol. As I begin I am 1 day sober. Gulp. I drank in private and hope to quit just as privately. The purpose of this blog is to help make me accountable - just by following you will give me enormous support and encouragement.

Posted on November 16, 2014, in Getting Sober and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. 22 Comments.

  1. This is hilarious! Great post!!!

    Like

  2. LOVE this post! I do “childish” things all the time for my own fun=]

    Like

  3. Thanks for your posts. I just can’t quit! Another day 1. Going to AA tonight. I want the ride to be over!

    Like

  4. Where I live in the States, when you have to sit in the middle seat over the transmission hump, we call it “riding bi*ch” because it’s the least desirable spot in the vehicle. Do you have a name for it in the Great Frozen North?

    Like

  5. G.R.E.A.T. post!!! We had a lot of snow fall last night…still coming down.

    Two words…

    SNOW ANGELS. 🙂

    Thank you for this reminder.

    XOXO

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Soooo insightful-thank you for this! Painful contortions, distortions and whatever uncomfortable actions we take are often to please others. And when the discomfort becomes unmanageable alcohol is just one way, a very destructive way, to cope. There is always another healthier way and i am still, and probably always will be learning that. Stretching and yoga top my list. Your blog and the people who contribute are such a tremendous help for me as i work through the “not drinking my way through” difficult emotions. One month sober, two months of very strict moderation and a relapse yesterday. Day 1 today and grateful!

    Like

  7. What a beautiful post! Thanks

    Like

  8. I hope discovered great fun, I’m fun to be around and laugh with, no hangover or regrets!

    Like

  9. Love this. Next time I wash my hair, in your honour, I’m going to form a pointy-uppy pixie hat hairdo with the lather. Oh and shout ‘arse cramps!’ while I’m at it. 🙂 Thank you for this joyous post. Bea x

    Like

  10. Still smiling after reading this! Two weeks and one day sober – still living the truth. Thank you for your posts – they help me more than you know. 🙂

    Like

    • I am thrilled that my little musings on life are helpful. We all really have the same story, and it is a relief to hear ourselves in one another. I am so happy for you. Big strong mama bear hug.

      Like

  11. Omg…I howled…

    Like

  12. It must be because I live alone, but I do this stuff all the time. Even worse, I thought everybody did! Whoo boy! I suppose this means I need help or something right? Nah! I’ll just wait until next year when I turn 58 and see if I grow up then. Thanks for the post though. Hope youe bottom feels better.

    Like

  13. we are deprived of all kinder eggs. I find building blocks and painting pretty fun too, give them a try 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  14. Oh what a fun idea! I’m gonna attempt to have childish fun! It may be in private, but I’ll do it! To begin, I’ve just put a straw in my coffee and blew bubbles. Got a rather strange look from my more-than-patient hubby who simply shook his head and went back to watching the football game. Think I’ll have to pass on the skipping, hopping, jumping, etc., as I don’t want to have to borrow a pair of my granddaughter’s “Pull-ups” in order to have childish fun. Tinkling in my panties…. now that’s really going back to fun childhood days!

    Like

  15. Your post made me smile! you are so right! I’m gonna do somethg goofy today and let my inner child out😊

    Liked by 1 person

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