This morning I woke up early to go to therapy and, since I hadn’t cleaned up in a few days, took a shower. That’s right, I don’t shower every day, and there’s nothing you can do to make me. But I digress. When I’d finished scrubbing myself from top to bottom, I turned off the hot water and rinsed off in only the cold. For two whole minutes. This is something I’ve been doing recently in order to give my cardiovascular system a workout. And boy does it work. As soon as the cold water hits my neck, I all but stop breathing. But then, instinctively, I take one deep breath, practically from my toes. From that point on, the water’s cold of course, but it’s like it warms up.

What’s really happening, however, is that I’m warming up. This is the point, that one’s body should be able to thermoregulate. When it’s hot out, the body should sweat in order to cool off. When it’s cold out, the body should burn fat or shiver in order to produce heat.

For me, the benefits of cold showers go beyond the physical. For decades I’ve hated the cold, hated the winter. Mostly because I spend so much time miserable. My feet can never get warm. By the time February rolls around, my toes feel like they’re going to fall off. Anyway, all of this has amounted to my developing the belief that my body is somehow weak and unable to handle the elements. I think of homeless people or cowboys who used to sleep on the range, and I affirm to myself, I could never make it out there. I’m too fragile. A delicate flower. Currently I’m listening to Stevie Nicks sing, “Can I handle the seasons of my life?” and the old me is thinking, Yes, I can rock spring, summer, and fall, but no, I can’t handle winter.

The new me, however, is starting to believe I can. I’ve been running around to antique malls today, and the weather has been frightful–dark, wet, forty-four degrees. And whereas I’d normally be bundled up like the Michelin Man, I’m not. Whereas I’d normally have the heater turned up in my car, I haven’t. Instead, I’ve dressed appropriately and have let the air run colder–sixty-eight degrees. Granted, my feet are still chilly, but the point is I’m not afraid of this coming season. I may never fall in love with winters, but I’m determined not to hate them. Because they’re part of life and so am I. Because more and more I believe I’m strong enough to handle whatever life hurls my way.

Let’s say it together.

I am not a delicate flower.

This morning my therapist said, “Marcus, you’re always saying that you’ve changed so much, but here’s the way I think about it. The real you, your authentic self, has always been on stage. It’s just that, before the lights were off, the curtains were drawn, and the front doors were locked. This is what the process of transformation really is, unlocking the doors, turning on the lights, opening up the curtains, and revealing more of who you truly are.” I like this way of thinking about things. When it comes to personal growth and reaching your highest potential, you’re not being asked to become someone you’re not. Chances are, you’ve probably already done that. Rather, you’re being asked to reveal exactly who you are underneath your society-approved-of facade–a messy, talented, emotional, beautiful child of life.

My therapist says it’s normal (well, regular–she poo-poos the word normal because–I don’t know–normal doesn’t exist, fuck normal) to live your life behind the curtains, that most people not only have the curtains drawn, but also have a barbed wire fence and an American Ninja Warrior style obstacle course between them and the people in their lives. And why wouldn’t we? Who doesn’t get the message from day one on this planet that SOMETHING is fundamentally wrong and shameful about themselves? You’re a sinner. You’re a worm. You’re a woman (just here to keep men from being lonely). You’re queer. You’re fat. You’re ugly. And therefore less than. And therefore unlovable. Lies. I’m not saying you’re perfect, but I am saying you’re just fine the way you are. I’m also saying you’re strong enough to handle what life hurls at you because you were made from this life and for this life. I’m saying we need you. I’m saying you don’t have to change a thing before you open the curtains.