Hi, Barb, Joan, et al.

What is it about memories of outhouses that makes them so universally funny? Recalling one of my own memories led me to a word, "self-consciousness," that seems to tie back perfectly to the original subject: "Living with PN, do you find yourself retreating from life?" The memory that returned to me was of that same outhouse with the low-hanging lintel on which I'd thwack my head every time I'd step in or out.

The specific memory I had this morning was not of the thwacking but of the direction the outhouse faced: 180 degrees away from our cabin deck so a person in the outhouse would have a modicum of privacy. You see, our outhouse lacked a door! Seated inside, a person was in full view of the adjacent cow pasture. That in itself wasn't made me smile; it was remembering the tenderfoot horseback riding trail that led past the exposed side of the outhouse. It seemed every time I'd be seated in the outhouse, a trail of tourists mounted on horseback would go clomping by. They'd see me and say, "G'morning!" I'd lower my old National Geographic and say "G'morning!" right back.

Speaking of "right back," this takes me right back to that word, "self-consciousness." Doesn't self-consciousness play a big role in why we sufferers with PN oftentimes retreat from social get-togethers? Or why we're a touch ill-at-ease the first time we go outdoors with a much-needed cane or walker? Isn't it self-consciousness that makes us cringe at the thought of our friends now having to relate to a "new" (PN-impaired) person, and not to the fully able-bodied person to whom they used to relate? I know self-consciousness played a big part––perhaps the leading role––in my having to adjust to my "new" PN self.

So, see? All these wonderful anecdotes about outhouses all along have had a perfect tie in to the topic of PN and "retreating from life." 🙂

Cheers!
Ray (@ray666)