I’ve been getting a more regular deep-tissue massage schedule going, since work pays for it. One of the biggest benefits of going regularly is that I’ve really gotten to build a rapport with my therapist, Crystal, at Meta Physica Wellness Center. Because of the regularity and the increasing comfort level of our relationship, I feel (and she mentioned it too) that we’re starting to do ‘real work’.
I’m not into spirituality, magic, or anything woo-woo, as you probably know if you know me at all, but sometimes Crystal talks about trauma and emotions being held in our bodies. She talks about release, and “doing work” on specific things—places I hold pain. I mostly attribute this pain to my lifestyle; the way I sit, the way I work, my routine. It makes sense that my right side is slightly off-kilter from my left. I use a mouse all day. I sleep on my left side. I am overweight. I barely get any exercise. All of these things make sense.
But what doesn’t make sense is that on nights like tonight, after a really intense session where she claims “wow, we got some real work done tonight”, I come home feeling physically light and feeling good…. but I’m also really, really in my feelings. I’m just really feeling things tonight. I light candles. I sit in the dark. I listen to music. I have a lot on my mind. Most of the time, I can objectively see my own thoughts for what they are (25 years of Buddhism has paid off!)… but there’s just something about the way they’re parsing tonight that isn’t logical.
I’m deep in thought. Introspective. Nostalgic. I’m etching memories into my mind so that I never forget them. I’m on such a journey right now. It’s all so much. The emotions and thoughts coursing through my neurons and through my body are intense—but I’m not alone in this.
People in my life that I love deeply are also going through so much. Big changes, new paths, new introspection. My son, my partners, my dad, my friends. I’ve had some incredible conversations lately, and I am more convinced than ever that love can save us all, but the journey is hard, and it hurts.
And maybe she’s right…
Maybe I am holding some of that in my body. I don’t know how else to explain this melancholy, the catharsis that comes from feeling my feelings and writing about them, and the utter release I feel after I let it all out. I breathe more deeply. I consciously release the muscles that are tensed up. I stretch my legs out, and sleep seems possible.
I’m so intensely grateful for the people I have in my life. Alone, I am nothing. I am just a person approaching middle age. I am tired eyes, a sore back, a greying beard… But when I have the people who love me behind me, helping me share these burdens, and supporting me—I am the entire universe. I can do anything, create anything, achieve anything. These are the nights when maybe—just maybe—I do believe in a little bit of magic.