Unnamed Problem

It’s too Sensitive to Name in Print.

I have a problem that’s too sensitive to easily discuss, but I’m so open to suggestions of how to deal with it that I will wade in despite my better judgment. Hell, when’s the last time my better judgment steered me right? Online hacks who know nothing about me and my life goals are always telling me how dumb my better judgment is, and that wouldn’t annoy me all that much except for the fact that they’re so often right.

I won’t say what’s going on — it’s too embarrassing — but in High School, one of the star athletes on our football team had the same problem, earning him the nickname Baldy. You see, it affected what he’d do with his right hand while walking down the school’s hallways.

This too-shamed-to-name problem pushes me to sit rather than stand when I relieve my bladder, all because I have the chance before popping down to scratch that maddening itch. And when I do, I picture how ecstatic bears look when they find a rough-barked tree to treat an otherwise inaccessible itch on their back, powerfully palpable relief.