I have a friend who is going to massage school.
We all love to have friends like that, friends who give great massages for free. I love that.
She came over last week to teach me how to give Bryan a back massage as part of her student project. While demonstrating, she noticed a large lump on his back that turned out to be a huge ball of knotted muscle tissue. She also noticed Bryan’s left shoulder was tense, as if he was holding it tight, though she couldn’t get him to release it and relax.
She investigated the knot for awhile to see if the two were related.
Gently, she worked the tissue with the heal of her hand, explaining that she was exploring the direction of the muscles, loosening things up, and so forth. Slowly, the knot began to loosen until – POOF! – Bryan’s shoulder dropped. She had finally triggered something in the knot of muscle tissue that released the tension in his shoulder and it relaxed, right there in front of our eyes.
This week I’ve had the distinct feeling that I am holding on to something I should be letting go of, but in my confusion I don’t know what that is, and therefore I don’t know how to let it go.
I am fighting something inside of me, and like Tyler Durden, I am taking that inner battle and turning it outward, releasing my aggression onto others – making them hurt as I hurt, in hopes that their pain will release me from mine.
As I ran my errands this afternoon I thought about that knot in Bryan’s back, and I wondered what pressure was being put on me so I could be released from my own tension.
Not to overdue a good analogy, but having the tension worked out of your back hurts so good, don’t it (insert twang)? I mean, think about it:
How many times during a massage have you groaned, “OOWWWW!”
And the masseuse says, “Is that too much pressure?”
And you say through clenched teeth, “NO! IT FEELS GREAT!”
I have been frustrated. And I’ve said some things. And I’ve said some more things. And now I can’t remember some of the things I’ve said. And the things I DO remember I’ve said, I can’t tell if I really meant them. Was what I said based on a Lie I believe? Or is the confusion over what I said distracting me from the Truth of what I said?
So basically at this point, if you’re just tuning in to my blog, you’re thinking to yourself, “This chick’s not so much fun. I’m going back to reading Dooce.”
But I assure you, Dooce is a little crazy in the head herself. She just uses the delete button more liberally than I do.