Why Do Showers Feel So Damn Good?

Why Do Showers Feel So Damn Good?

As I was taking a shower, a random thought came to mind:

Can anybody tell me why showers feel so damn good?

And I don’t mean the obvious reasons.

I’m talking about that feeling when the water hits you and, for a few minutes, it seems like the rest of the world disappears.

No phone.

No notifications.

No one asking you for anything.

No responsibilities staring you in the face.

Just you, the water, and your thoughts.

And that’s when I started wondering if maybe the shower feels so good for a reason that has nothing to do with the water.

Think about it.

How many times have you stepped into the shower feeling stressed, irritated, tired, or mentally drained—and somehow stepped out feeling like a completely different person?

It’s almost like the shower gives your brain permission to breathe.

Maybe that’s why some of our best ideas seem to show up in there.

You suddenly remember something you forgot.

You solve a problem you’ve been thinking about all day.

You replay an old conversation.

You come up with a business idea.

Or, for absolutely no reason, your brain decides it’s the perfect time to remind you of something embarrassing you did twelve years ago.

😂

But there’s something else I find interesting.

The shower is one of the few places where we’re completely alone with ourselves.

And maybe that’s something we don’t get enough of anymore.

We’re constantly consuming something.

Music.

Videos.

Social media.

Messages.

News.

Entertainment.

We’re always connected to something—or someone.

Then we step into the shower, close the curtain, and suddenly there’s nothing left to distract us.

Just silence.

And for me, that’s also where a small ritual begins.

Before I really get into my shower, I take a moment and say:

“Divine Spirit, bless this water, that it may be nourishing to my mind, body, and soul.”

It’s a simple statement, but it changes the way I experience the shower.

I’m no longer just standing underneath running water.

I’m intentionally setting the tone for the moment.

I’m thinking about cleansing—not just physically, but mentally and spiritually too.

Maybe that’s part of why the shower can feel so refreshing.

The water washes away the sweat and grime, but the moment itself can give you an opportunity to let go of some of the things you’ve been carrying around in your head.

Stress.

Frustration.

Negative thoughts.

Yesterday’s problems.

Tomorrow’s worries.

For a few minutes, you can simply exist.

And maybe that’s why some of our best ideas seem to find us there.

The shower is one of those rare places where we’re not expected to perform, respond, explain, or accomplish anything.

We’re just there.

And maybe that’s something we don’t give ourselves enough permission to do.

Just be.

Maybe we’re not addicted to the shower.

Maybe we’re addicted to those few minutes when nobody needs anything from us.

So the next time you’re standing underneath that hot water and suddenly have a brilliant idea, solve a problem, or start questioning every decision you’ve ever made…

Don’t worry.

Apparently, that’s just shower time doing what shower time does.

But now I’m curious:

Why do YOU think showers feel so damn good?

And more importantly…

What do you do during those few minutes that are just for you?

Where Black Angles Wait- A Increased Coins LLC Short Story

Dorlisa was a young woman who dreamed big and lived by the values she believed in.

She loved movies, romance novels, spending time with family, and especially black angels, which, to her, symbolized hope, protection, and the promise that no one is ever truly alone.

She had a beautiful spirit and a heart that could light up a room with her smile.

We called each other "my ace boon coon," a phrase we made up that meant tighter than tight.

We weren't just brother and sister—we were best friends.

We laughed together, argued like siblings do, and sometimes bumped heads, but our lovefor each other never changed.

Through every joy and every hardship, our mother, Sarah, was the steady foundation of our family.

She was the rock that held us together, andwe were inseparable because, in many ways, we were all each other had.

My mom was more than a mother; she was both a mother and a father—a true warrior.

When my sister’s husband left, my mom stepped in, without hesitation, to help raise her two sons: James, the oldest, and Jermaine, the youngest.

She never complained or asked why.

She simply loved them with all her heart.

Her strength, sacrifice, and unconditional love carried our family through some of the darkest moments of our lives.

Then, at only 30 years old... everything changed.

My sister became suddenly ill.

The first hospital visit turned into a nightmare when she was misdiagnosed and sent home.

I remember that day like it was yesterday.

She was lying on the couch across from me, looking tired and scared, and quietly asked me for a hug.

Trying to lighten the moment, I joked and told her not to worry... that everything would be okay.

But deep inside, I felt something wasn't right.

We were all frightened, even if we didn't want to admit it.

Not long afterward, she was admitted to another hospital.

This time, the doctors discovered the truth no family ever wants to hear: ovarian cancer.

Those words hit us like a storm that changed everything in an instant.

Our world stopped.

Yet, through the fear, my mom, my sister, andI held tightly to our faith, our prayers, and the hope that somehow a miracle would come.

We spent countless days and sleepless nights traveling back and forth to the hospital, playing those same songs on repeat—"Prayer Changes" and "You Saved Me"—refusing to leave her side.

Sarah was remarkable.

She comforted my sister, cared for James and Jermaine, and somehow found the strength to hold the rest of us together, even while her own heart was breaking.

Watching her carry that burden with such grace is something I will never forget.

Then came the phone call that shattered our hearts.

My sister had slipped into a coma.

I can still hear her final words as clearly today as I did then.

With a soft voice filled with love, courage, and sadness, she looked at our mother and said,

"Momma, don't cry. It's going to be alright. I'm sorry for this burden. I won't be here to see them grow up, but please take care of James and Jermaine for me. You are all they have."

My mom’s tears fell without end, but through her pain, she made a promise.

She would love those boys, protect them, and raise them as if they were her own children.

It was a promise she intended to keep with every ounce of strength she had left.

As for me, I was left carrying a different kind of pain... regret.

I regret not realizing how serious her illness really was.

I regret the conversations we never had, the wordsI never spoke, and, most of all, the hug I never gave her when she asked for it that day on the couch.

It is a memory that has stayed with me through the years, reminding me never to take the people we love for granted.

Time moves forward, but grief has no calendar.

Some days, the pain feels fresh, while other days, the memories bring smiles instead of tears.

Through it all, I choose to believe that the black angels my sister loved so much are watching over her—and over us—guiding us through the darkest nights until we meet again.

This is my sister’s story.

Gone far too soon... but never forgotten.

Her life lives on through her sons, through our memories, and through every life she touched.

Until we meet again, Sis...

I'm sending hugs to Where Black Angels Wait.

I love you, always and forever.

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