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Category: Current Issue

It can be challenging to let go of something. Not challenging in the emotional sense but rather, in the physical one. For example, when adhering a wooden tabletop onto a surface, you have only one chance to let the top go and hope that you lined it up correctly. I can also imagine that surgeons consistently worry about the timing of releasing their patients, as too soon can bring on a relapse or complication and too late can bring on unnecessary costs.
But what happens when we have no control over when we release something? For instance, sneezing. Sneezing is a natural and, mostly, unexpected occurrence. The very definition of a sneeze explains this as it is the sudden burst of air expelled through the nose and the mouth. However, as jarring as a sneeze can be for the sneezer, it can be even more shocking for those around.
As a young child, I had complete acceptance of the process of sneezing. I understood that when I suddenly had the urge to sneeze, I sneezed. As I got older, I began to realize that in doing so, I was bothering my friends or teachers or fellow church goers around me. Sometimes they jumped in a startled fright. Sometimes they turned their head with a look of indignation at my audacity in creating a spontaneous noise. Mostly, they moved away from me out of worry that they would either catch my ailment or a piece of what I just ate.  As I didn’t want to appear to be inconsiderate to my fellow humans, it was as a young teenager that I began to try to stifle, if I could, my sneeze.
As I became an adult and more specifically, a mother, I stopped caring about trying to stifle my sneezes. Firstly, in doing so, sometimes, my head would feel like it was about to burst. But more importantly, this was serving as an example for my own children, and I didn’t want them to think that sneezing, a bodily function, was something to suppress. At no time was this as important than during potty training. And so, I reinstituted the process of feeling free to release my urge to sneeze, just as soon as it happened. Plus, I realized that always having a tissue or a hanky handy solved the problem of making others feel like I was spreading “stuff” to them.   
Today, however, I cannot claim that I am a 100 percent complete sneeze releaser. Sometimes, I still stifle them simply because I am in a situation wherein sneezing would be worse (in my head) than NOT sneezing. Consider the very poignant end of a two-hour movie or at the starting line of a track race. I will also admit that I am in awe of those who are complete sneeze releasers but sound only as loud as a teeny tiny mouse. I often wonder why my sneezes are so loud in comparison. Perhaps I have more lung capacity than they do? Or, perhaps, they practiced stifling their sneezes for so long that it just became their sneeze-norm?
Gesundheit! Gesundheit!  
Kathy Naumann, possessor of NATURALLY curly hair and the understanding that you can’t control everything

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