Leaving the Table

I was overdue for a soft landing. One session wouldn’t be enough, but it would be a good starting point. When my friend suggested having her massage therapist do a housecall for our long weekend, I booked a slot. Bodies carry physical and emotional stress, and mine is no exception. A reckoning awaited.

I settle under the sheet with my face cradled. Earlier as I chatted with the massage therapist I set my intention and noted areas of discomfort. A tissue was tucked in the corner fold in case my nose dripped as it tends to do when I’m experiencing eye discomfort. All set. I breathed deeply.

She adjusted the world music, prepared her oil and placed both hands on my shoulders. Her routine and flow relaxed me, and I trusted her hands. She traveled around the tendons and muscles of my neck and shoulders before working on my back and hips. The hardtack quality of my fascia transformed to malleable tissue. In sore muscles trigger points gave way. Layers of stress crumbled. Relief.

I drifted away and allowed myself just to breathe and unwind, to stay in the present with touch, music, and aromatherapy. As it always does, the hour flew by. I sat up slowly and enjoyed feeling open and at ease.

Downstairs I found the water I needed to process the bodywork. I took a seat on the couch shared by friends. Our long weekend in California was wrapping up, but our sisterhood would continue. I lingered in the peaceful state, letting myself be calm, letting myself heal.

What do you think of massage therapy? Where do you carry stress? Have you fallen asleep on the table? Tell me about it.