Has there ever been anything that you truly want to enjoy but you just can’t??
For me, it’s the completely beneficial therapeutic massage.
I can’t seem to turn my mind or social phobias off for an entire hour.
Believe me when I say I have had amazing massage therapists — it is not YOU — its ME!
I do get massages regularly and know for sure they are helpful physically and emotionally.
They keep stress and pain in check.
I enjoy “the idea” of the massage but the actual event — not so much!
People are always saying “I was so relaxed on the table, I fell asleep”.
I can’t even unclench.
First there’s the age old question.
Am I supposed to be completely nude or just half nude?
What if I take it all off and that is considered inappropriate??? However, what if I leave the underwear on but my granny panties are dingy?
Then, there’s the table.
It is so high.
Thankfully, my therapist leaves a step stool nearby. Getting up on the too-high too-narrow table is the first stressor.
There’s this body pillow thing that I have to shimmy up onto and then stick my head into the hole on the table. Now ladies, if you don’t do this just right, your boobs could land too high and choke off your airway.
So you have to push your boobs back down but still keep you head in the centre of the hole.
Now, figure out where to put your arms.
Should they be under the body or swinging loose like an orangutan? All this maneouvering has to be done in a few seconds before the RMT comes into the room.
I am now sweating.
There is always low lighting (this is a plus!) and weird jungle sounds of birds and animals and possibly a waterfall.
It may just be me but I could never ever relax in a rainforest.
I would be constantly on alert for dangerous predators.
No, no, this is a very bad ideal.
On to the next issue: To talk or not to talk.
I struggle with this every single time.
I want to be friendly.
I feel like maybe I should chat to avert the therapist’s full attention from whatever it is she is seeing from her vantage point. I worry she might be bored so I yammer on about nothing. She likely can’t even understand me with my face still in the hole.
I’d rather say nothing and just pretend none of this is happening.
Usually, I split the difference—talk for 30 minutes and then shut up for the last thirty.
That seems a reasonable compromise.
I can breathe for a few minutes until its time for the dreaded turnover.
I hate that part.
I always want to ask — “If we don’t do the top half, will I be lopsided?” Of course, I don’t say a word I just brace for the turn.
The therapist holds up the sheet and I try to wriggle over onto my back.
What if I fall right off the bed?
What if some random body part falls out of the sheet?
What if there is some weird bodily noise that cannot be construed as a loud bird in the rainforest???
Once I am back in place and now face up on the table — time to worry about if my makeup is smeared and if hair is all flat.
The struggle is real, people!
Finally the hour is up.
There have been times I was so anxious to get out I have stuffed my bra in my purse and then prayed I didn’t get pulled over by a cop later.
Do I feel better after the treatment? Yes, definitely. The muscles are loose, knots are gone and headaches have vanished.
Am I relaxed? Ummmm, no! I'll tell you when I am relaxed — when I am in my car on the way home and waiting five weeks for the next appointment to come along.
Come to think of it — perhaps an appointment with a different kind of therapist might be in order.