Coming unglued, continued

The bodyworker I go to is also an artist. I have to be careful stepping around the large, colorful unframed canvases stacked against walls and table legs. The one big room is separated by various obstacles, among them an enormous table covered with art supplies, papers, mail and books; and in an alcove housing the kitchenette there’s a long floor-to-ceiling rack jam-packed with clothing so it works as a wall. The main ceiling is factory-high. Abundant light comes in on one side from windows that begin at about 6 feet and go up from there.

It takes a long time to heat the space and it was still a bit cool when I arrived yesterday for my 11AM appointment. L was running slightly late and she apologized. Her hair was still drying. She had me sit on a wooden chair and she sat across from me maybe 8 feet away. We talked about things, what’s been going on in my life since I last saw her. Then she had me close my eyes and breathe into various spaces – my heart, my solar plexus, my abdomen. After awhile she came over and stood behind me, having me breathe into where her hands were – on my back, my shoulders, the back of my neck and my forehead, my jaws. Then she went back and sat down and we talked some more.

She set up her bodywork table, which had been folded up for carrying. She told me she’d taken it to the home of an elderly client last night and had gotten back late. She had me strip down to my underwear and lay face down on the table, then she covered me with a sheet and some blankets, but she had to pull them down to work on my back. We talked about the cold, and about my going to Mexico. She told me she had lived in Guatemala at one time. While there she met a European doctor and they’d traveled on his motorcycle through Central America and into South America. I had to interrupt her because the area on my lower back where she was working was tensing up. She eased up and worked it gently. We talked more sporadically while she massaged my right leg, my right arm, then my neck. She didn’t do my left leg or arm and I wondered if she spaced it. I didn’t ask. I’d been there for two hours and needed to get going. I pay for one hour, but she’s always gone over time.

I got dressed, used the bathroom, and we set up another appointment in five weeks. I worry a bit about spending the money on this. I used to get massage years ago when I had a corporate job, and I paid for psychotherapy for a few years. I’ve done neither in a long time but it feels like I need to do this for myself, just like I need to take this vacation that I can’t really afford either. L was recommended to me highly as sort of a last resort, a miracle worker for people who are stuck. Both the bodywork/energy work and the vacation are really about that: getting unstuck. If they work they’ll be well worth the investment. If not, there are worse ways to blow money, and much worse ways to try to get unstuck. And the trip – well, that’ll be a lot of fun. Fun is good.

Comments

[susurra]

I want to say "Quit justifying! You deserve this because you are worth it. Fun and healing and decadence and and and. You are simply worth it." To live well is worth it too. But I know how it is to feel like I have to rationalize the things I do for myself. We are acculturated to think its selfish.

And on the other hand, aren't you also doing risk taking, change, growth in doing these things? They are not all luxuries either.

I hope you indulge with a free conscious, fully ready to embrace it all.

[leslee]

Thanks, Susan. I'll do my best. :-)