The Backbone's Connected To The...Fear Of Failure
I need a massage.
I've been acutely aware of how my body stores tension for many years now and when I am being massaged I am immediately in touch with all the little things my brain has tried to hide from me inside my muscles and joints. Ow! There's the laundry! Oh! There's that damn second act! YIKES! Just avoid that husband and child spot!
I started to develop this bizarre skill during a combat class. As a treat before winter break our teacher decided that we were going to do full body work on each other. Hooray! There was an odd number of students and so I got the teacher to work on me who was, no doubt, expecting me to return the favor the second hour of class. It didn't turn out that way.
I have always been one to push myself pretty hard and I"ve become accustomed to stress as a way of being. I'm not odd in that respect. However, on this particular day I was in denial about how much stress I was under. I lay on the floor and the second he touched my shoulders my brain was flooded with images of my failures and regrets. With each place he touched a new image and batch of feelings would arise. It was a very physical sensation of a damn breaking and emotional fluid rushed through my body. I didn't want to succomb to it so I tensed up to try and stem the flow. He told me to let it go and not be afraid to get sloppy. That did it. For the next two hours I wailed. It was as if my body had become a giant bagpipe and he played the loud, discordant tune of my hidden demons. When he instructed everyone else to switch he kindly ordered me to stay down and continued working it out. Kind man. By the end of class my face was red and blotchy and there was, literally, a pool of snot and tears on the floor where I had been. But I felt remarkably lighter and completely recharged.
I could use that right now.
At the moment my body is such an obvious physical manifestation of my bad habits, fears, and grief. I am afraid I am not strong enough to handle my dreams and responsibilities and so I've hidden all of that in a soft and slack belly over which I now stoop to "hide" my insecurity. My lower back has taken many beatings over the last four years and it is from there that I have been borrowing strength and energy to get through my days. I've always depended on my strong back, but now the weight of that emotional baggage is literally breaking my back. The daily irritations that I can't seem to let go are in my shoulders and if you touch my neck I will be reminded of a tremendous sense of loss. At the moment, I am the walking wounded. Boo hoo. I did it to myself.
So today I will make an appointment for a massage. It needs to be with a master who is not afraid of my mess. Then afterwards, I will need to move on.
I've been acutely aware of how my body stores tension for many years now and when I am being massaged I am immediately in touch with all the little things my brain has tried to hide from me inside my muscles and joints. Ow! There's the laundry! Oh! There's that damn second act! YIKES! Just avoid that husband and child spot!
I started to develop this bizarre skill during a combat class. As a treat before winter break our teacher decided that we were going to do full body work on each other. Hooray! There was an odd number of students and so I got the teacher to work on me who was, no doubt, expecting me to return the favor the second hour of class. It didn't turn out that way.
I have always been one to push myself pretty hard and I"ve become accustomed to stress as a way of being. I'm not odd in that respect. However, on this particular day I was in denial about how much stress I was under. I lay on the floor and the second he touched my shoulders my brain was flooded with images of my failures and regrets. With each place he touched a new image and batch of feelings would arise. It was a very physical sensation of a damn breaking and emotional fluid rushed through my body. I didn't want to succomb to it so I tensed up to try and stem the flow. He told me to let it go and not be afraid to get sloppy. That did it. For the next two hours I wailed. It was as if my body had become a giant bagpipe and he played the loud, discordant tune of my hidden demons. When he instructed everyone else to switch he kindly ordered me to stay down and continued working it out. Kind man. By the end of class my face was red and blotchy and there was, literally, a pool of snot and tears on the floor where I had been. But I felt remarkably lighter and completely recharged.
I could use that right now.
At the moment my body is such an obvious physical manifestation of my bad habits, fears, and grief. I am afraid I am not strong enough to handle my dreams and responsibilities and so I've hidden all of that in a soft and slack belly over which I now stoop to "hide" my insecurity. My lower back has taken many beatings over the last four years and it is from there that I have been borrowing strength and energy to get through my days. I've always depended on my strong back, but now the weight of that emotional baggage is literally breaking my back. The daily irritations that I can't seem to let go are in my shoulders and if you touch my neck I will be reminded of a tremendous sense of loss. At the moment, I am the walking wounded. Boo hoo. I did it to myself.
So today I will make an appointment for a massage. It needs to be with a master who is not afraid of my mess. Then afterwards, I will need to move on.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 9:16 AM
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