Back into the butthole

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My therapist has a great butthole analogy. (Ha! Anal-ogy…just noticed that. Ah…butts are fun). She uses it to help clients understand why they cling on to the bad habits in their lives. Why they stay doughy and sick, why they don’t try for a better job, why they hang around people they don’t like.

“It’s like living in a butthole. You might poke your head out every now and then, but it’s too bright and cold. The air is much better, in fact everything is better out there. Still you’re scared, so you curl back into the butthole. Because even if it’s stinky, at least it’s warm and familiar.”

She says the more you poke your head out, the less comforting the return to the butthole becomes. That it starts smells gross, the space cramped and fetid. Stuff you never noticed until you got used to breathing on the outside.

Change is excruciating. People only do it when the old way is more excruciating. So some of us line our rectal homes with Renuzits and incense sticks, and we close tight our eyes and just decide the butthole is better than the shock of the freshness that is outside.

Things are starting to get cramped and stinky in here.

I hate change.

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