Standing Still at the Speed of Light
Writing, true life, random facts and fiction
Dry your tears
There’s no time for this
If no one looks too close
If no one listens too close
Find the steel in your spine
Find the steel in your smile
You lead
You’re empty
If no one looks too close
If no one listens to close
The cracks won’t show too bad
The cracks will hold another day
You animate the body
You mourn your soul
If no one looks too close
If no one listens too close
Dry your tears
There’s no time for this
Today on my mind is pain.
All those who really know me, know that my accidental choice of a career, Massage Therapist, beautifully turned into a life passion. I have been gifted to be with clients in birth, death and all states in between.
The honours I have been trusted with: life stories, vulnerability, knowledge- sacred and silly, wisdom, hurt, healing, fear, and joy. It has been such a cool, hard, interesting path. I have seen people and their perceived weakest (but the strength it took to get through it was amazing), their strongest, in pain, in triumph.
Once I realized that this is where I am at my best service, where I can do so much good, I realized this is also one of the most satisfying things I am capable of.
It has brought me to a place where I am entrusted with teaching the next generation of Massage Therapists. I have met some exceptional talents and hearts entering this field. I try to translate the wisdom I have gained over the years to them. To be humbled by what you are witnessing, whether it is an elite athlete getting back to sport, a mom reducing her pain to be able to play with her toddler, someone on their 4th battle with cancer, a Fibromyalgia patient being able to have a pain free day, or an over worked dad actively practicing self care to reduce the stress on his body and mind, or someone losing the ability to follow their passion and reimagining and finding the courage to change the life plan. There is a raw honesty we get to observe. We do our best to help the body get as well as it can. It is amazing.
The people I have touched, the marks they have left on me. I have whole families that I have been blessed to watch for the better part of two decades. I have celebrated and grieved in equal measure. Never once considering my own time may be finite.
Pain.
The therapist has become the patient.
It’s funny, I have had mental illness for most of my life that I have been dealing with, I am open and honest with all those in my life about those battles, but the other battle I have been waging for just over two years now, I have not been completely open with how I am dealing with it.
I am 46, the last 4 years are the healthiest I have ever been. I weigh 200+ pounds less than I did twenty years ago. I exercise quite regularly, I eat so much better than I did a decade ago, I actively work at my mental health. Two years ago my body told me that I was defiantly not young anymore. I have aches and pains, some related to the everyday, some to my anxiety disorder, but hey, I have access to some of the best massage, acupuncture and chiropractic out there, so healing and management are easy peasy.
I started to show signs in my right shoulder of tendonitis. Not surprising statistically, given my age, gender and career choice. I am so very lucky to have a very insightful Massage Therapist of my own. As I began to get my own regular therapy for it we realized as we ‘dug’ deeper into the tissue it was so much more. There had been long buried childhood trauma there. It would take work but I was hopeful to be fully back to myself in time. It is a blessing when a therapist can calmly walk this journey with you. To observe, compassionately adjust and continue momentum. I was making great headway, modifying certain things like exercise, but healing was happening and it was not really interfering with my job. Eight months ago I fell, redamaged the shoulder, increasing the injury and setting the recovery time back.
There was a little twitch in the back of my head that I needed to get a closer look at what was happening in the shoulder. I discovered there is damage that is permanent. So much that can be progressive in it’s destruction. At some point I will be faced with the very real possibility of surgery. But it will never be the same. There is now always some awareness of pain, sometimes it is background noise, sometimes it is so much at the forefront I can’t think. It is weak in certain ways, it makes sounds, it gets hot, it gets stuck. It now has begun to interfere with my job.
I am so lucky that I have more skills to explore and I don’t think (hope) I will have to fully stop being a massage therapist. But I am facing change. I was hopeful for a long time that with a few minor adjustments and strengthening I could be mostly back to myself. Over the last couple of months, the schedule I have been trying to keep and the daily demands I need to fulfil have shown me that I need to be realistic about what I need to/ can do.
Self care has been only consistent in the actual getting of massage, which keeps me working, and I have come to discover after missing the odd regular one that it has an incredible impact on my mental health. It is amazing to me to have had the academic/clinical impression for years of what massage is capable of but until it is experienced out of need I never really understood what a life line ie can be. I am trying to get back to how diligent I was before this happened, but I know it is hard to step out of the defeatist mind. It hurts so I can’t, well if I can’t exercise I will eat the sweet junk food that brings short term comfort, I will be angry and I will begin the cycle again.
I try to exercise but am frustrated that I can not do what I could two years ago, that it fatigues faster and can not lift what it could. Where I could see six or seven clients in a day comfortably, I find now a max of four unless I am willing to compromise the quality of what I do and create a discomfort that gives me a hard time sleeping. Add that into some of my teaching responsibilities and that number I am able to do decreases.
Everyone around me is trying to be so encouraging. “You have other things you can do.” “It’s not like you have to quit all together.” I know this is meant to make me feel better but it doesn’t.
I have worked very hard to build what I have, the relationships I have, the business I have. I know that cutting it back is not the end, but it means I am not going to be the therapist I was, the one that these people have all come to rely on. I thought it would also make me feel better if I built in some referrals that could fill in for me if my hours are too restrictive, I believe I have made great recommendations, but can’t help feeling like I have failed these people somehow. And what if I am wrong, and it proves that I actually can no longer massage at all? what about then?
It will also take time for the new skills to generate any income. So what am I supposed to do there? Bills, mortgage, school fees and life doesn’t wait.
I know people are meant to be kind, encouraging and supportive, but when I try to express genuine fear, disappointment and grief over this forced change I am given the ‘there, there’ treatment. It is well meaning I know. But damn it! This fucking sucks.
I hurt, my hands get stiff, my shoulder burns and aches so much. I’ve been so proud of what I have accomplished in this realm and do not feel like I am done yet. There are times, as I try to envision and get excited about what comes next that I feel the hot tears well up, the deep sadness in my heart that takes over everything. Add to that the frustration of the chronic pain. It can drive you mad. I cry. By myself, but the tears spill fast. What I need is for this to be seen, not with a bright side at this moment, but allow me to grieve, to be angry, recognize this fucking blows! Let me be disappointed, hug me, be empathetic, be disappointed with me- I will feel better when I have made peace, but I am not there.
I love my career, I love what I have built. I am fighting as hard as I can to maintain my place here, to take care of those that have honoured me with their trust. I know in my heart they all care for me as well. Today the pain has defeated me, made me tired, made me unsure. Tomorrow I will get up and try again, keep trying for as long as I have it in me. It is a big part of who I am.
Sometimes I admire people who appear to have a lack of empathy, a lack of concern for others.
There are times I wish I could not feel, worry, care or hurt. Times I wish I could scream fuck this and fuck you and not care where the chips land.
But I’m not. I crave understanding ( and to be understood). The why, the how, the scope of experience that created the situation. Motivation for causing pain. Motivation for dropping seeds of deliberate discord in situations.
I try so hard to understand why I spend time on these considerations, when it seems very few around me do, other than wanting to use my anxiety disorder as an excuse for how they treat me. But rarely as a reference for understanding and empathy.
This often plays into my anxieties when I can’t get answers, my monsters will twist and pick apart a situation, creating a space for me to want to make it better at huge cost, and/or creating such paranoia that the train derails into not trusting anyone’s motivation in my life.
There is plenty of ideas out there that it can be a conscious decision. Hanging on or letting go is something to be decided- you are only stuck if you believe you are. Let go of attachment. Let go of resentment. Let go of hurt. Sounds easy. But it’s far from that.
Friends: reason season lifetime
My life in the last few years had been a whirlwind of self discovery, change, growth, dismantling and creation.
Hitting middle age and deciding to break out of toxic patterns and explore myself and the world around me has been fraught with more pain ( and beauty) than I thought.
I’ve always adored that I had a close knit crew around me. We would get together often, laughs, drinks, interesting conversation, shared life events. I believed these people would all do their best to support me as I believed I did for them.
The flux was hard, but I relied on my sisterhood to keep me standing. The long-standing friendships, the new ones being built.
We are a few years past the marked start of my passing into what I feel is my rightful version of Womanhood. So much unforeseen. While I relied on my ‘sisters’ to be my sounding boards, I believed they also understood the scope from where I was speaking. That if they believed I was far misguided in my journey they would nudge me in the right direction, not insinuate themselves into it covertly and create far more destructive vibrations.
In amidst much stuff going on, I was made aware of some things that had been put into play. These well placed and seemingly ‘concerned’ statements as well as bolder actions created a much more uncomfortable situation that did not need to exist. That, in hind sight, I should have dealt with far less humorously than I did.
I had to first deal with a fall out that came with the immediate situations. I pushed passed the hurt I felt at the time to find my footing.
But I soon realized that what had happened made me question many things. Question myself and how I am perceived. I found myself having to explain who/why I am in ways I never thought I would. I took for granted, that as people got to know me, it would be identified that my life had shaped me into a deeply feeling, dramatic, sometimes intense human. Never setting out to harm, confuse or bring ill-intent, just working at connections, depth and discovering parts about myself that I thought were pretty interesting. But all of this was framed poorly and misrepresented. When the far reaching scope came into focus I was embarrassed, humiliated and beyond hurt.
I initially tried to apply understanding and compassion- what was going on in this person’s life that warranted this interference? Was it all a misunderstanding? Considering they had mostly withdrawn from me long before this all took place, I could not fathom why they spoke from an unknowing place.
I tried asking, this being very hard for me, given my anxiety issues, but I tried. This was met with a nothing, no defence, no denial, no explanations, no outright admission, no compassion for the position I was in, or the amount of trouble this caused in my life.
So, I made a conscious decision of letting it go, there would be no answer, no resolution. Separate as best I could. Trust the healing with those that desired it.
I have to grieve the friendship that meant so much to me.
Yet it’s hard, because the spiderweb connections that bind us are still very present. I tried to do the adult thing and not ask for sides to be taken. But I think in the process I have underplayed how much this has shaken and wounded me. I was (this is a piece of my anxiety) hopeful that others that are around me would rally, be protective and let it be known it was not acceptable. I was (am) not looking for any grand gesture, any big confrontation on my behalf, but I never asked, it never happened.
The hurt surfaces every so often. I try to not get into the victim mentality. Sometimes the lines of the web seem purposely tweaked, so I’m made aware of the ties that still bind, I can’t help but feel that this is a personal poke. It awakens the hurt, anger and humiliation.
I can see where it has shaken my trust and perception of myself, others. My circle, my clan I adore, feels wobbly.
In light of this and a few other issues, my once open door, full table and social house has closed down to almost nothing.
I miss it, them, the beauty of my whole village coming together, the sense of belonging. I second guess motivation, perception and intent. I panic if I think mine has been misperceived.
There are still many in my circle I love, and would ferociously defend, and hope that they feel the same.
Even though I have made the decision to no longer fucking care ( as I screamed at the ether)- putting into practice is much harder than I realize. It is continual reminders, self talk and forgiveness. To be ok with still feeling hurt, angry, and grieve. To work at no expectation that anyone else will care that this is how I periodically feel. Someday I hope to be done with it. Someday I hope I heal from the wound. I hope that the shakiness I feel will subside and my confidence will return to what it should be. I hope to take my power back.
I believe in sisterhood
I believe in kindness
I believe in love
I believe to not compete but to uplift
I believe to build up not tear down
I have to believe
Breathless I wait…… the vibrations of change are beginning. I can feel them. This is needed. The Tower, yet again begins to roil.
For the last while I have been required to be present, clear, steady, a safe harbour. A shelter ( oh I do this so well)
I feel deeply
My loyalty steadfast
Can I see the end of the nightmare that is not mine?
Rally love, you have it in you. Rally love, this is your place. Rally love, we’ve walked this way before.
The Tower pitches and cracks. Can I hold the steadfast harbour for you with one hand and ride out the inner rollercoaster, holding on to myself with the other?
I can. I will. I’ve got it in me. This is my place. I’ve walked this way before. But this time a new path will now be made. We shall not come to pass this way again
She was silent
She whispered
She spoke
She asked
She yelled
She howled
She cried
She asked
She spoke one last time
The indifference of silence
She will be silent once more
Dry your tears
There’s no time for this
If no one looks too close
If no one listens too close
Find the steel in your spine
Find the steel in your smile
You lead
You’re empty
If no one looks too close
If no one listens to close
The cracks won’t show too bad
The cracks will hold another day
You animate the body
You mourn your soul
If no one looks too close
If no one listens too close
Dry your tears
There’s no time for this
As much as the acute part of an anxiety attack can be scary and frustrating. It’s the after affects (of the big ones) I find the hardest to live with.
This past week was a tough one.
Last Monday I could feel a slight tingly buzz at the base of my skull. This is often a first sign that my system is about to go off.
I did as best as I could with meditation but I was irritable most of the day and the buzzing came and went. I could feel how tight my jaw was clenching. My train of thought easily disrupted
Tuesday and Wednesday were full on tilt, but life did not stop. Sleep was broken, short, restless. So while I was having increased buzzing, my right ear was ringing, I get almost what feels like chills periodically timed with the weird buzz at the base of my skull. I could not breathe and when I would try, it would catch. I was nauseous and had no appetite. It was hard to maintain focus and eye contact. I had a splitting headache from forcing myself to maintain ‘normalcies’ if you will.
There is a myriad of other physical symptoms that come along.
Thursday the worst of the actual anxiety had passed, my brain was still foggy but I no longer felt my emotions raw on the surface, threatening to break. Focus was still hard. Exhausted, my body hurt. Every muscle stung. Joints creak and groan. My appetite still off.
By Friday I felt like I had been dragged behind a car. Existing injuries and areas of issue were flared up. Fog still present but it was easier to follow conversation. Still hard to maintain eye contact.
We are now on to Sunday. Since Friday afternoon I have been in more of a ‘shut down’. I’m still having a hard time meditating and articulating in conversation. Some irritability, and the feeling I could cry. There are areas that still hurt on my body, in my head.
Yes, this was a particularly bad run ( these seem to occur after a prolonged stretch of ‘life’ stuff).
Yes, I did many proactive things this last week. I tried exercise ( body pain inhibited me), meditation ( could not focus breath or thought), I tried to make good food choices when I could eat, I spent time in nature, wrote as best I could, got a massage, tried my best to find places to discuss what was in my head.
There was a time that days, weeks and I’m even sure months had been stolen by my mental monsters. It rare for something like this to last more than a couple of days now, I’ve worked hard enough at my skills that I can defeat most of these episodes in hours.
I am frustrated that sometimes it takes so long to pass. I am frustrated that this one was beyond my control. I am frustrated that it has to taken me this long to feel what I hope I was passing for most of the week, semi normal.
I’m angry that my monsters allowed situations to build so much in my head it has stolen a week of my life.
But as I have every day this week, I will get up tomorrow, I will plant my feet, I will try to breathe, I will get on with the day. I will do everything I can to keep the monsters quiet. I will live my life.
Truth time.
I am not as I appear. I have realized something, and it has shaken me.
About 3 years ago, I began, in earnest a journey to become a healthy me. It started with the shell. And boy, was I diligent in my workouts and food. And the difference- I never knew what my body could do. At first it made me so uneasy, my outside armour was shrinking, so even though my strength was increasing, my comfort in the world was not.
It took a year or so and then I started to find my confidence, I started to sparkle, to explore pieces of myself that had been dormant for a long time.
As with any change in vibration it causes discomfort around you, engages new, disrupts old.
But I really began to believe I was this strong, red headed warrior, that was just, helpful, kind, funny, creative and all sorts of wonderful things. I started to publicly display my monsters, to be a role model. ‘You too can battle your monsters, create a loving village and have a life that’s deeper than day to day survival.’ I found my voice, really began to be the storyteller and keeper some part of me believes I am.
But you see, the disruption that I actually caused has much negativity associated with it. I tried new approaches that I felt were in line with my new found power. They were largely unsuccessful, and somewhat viewed as selfish but I stubbornly pushed forward. I was not really credited with doing any changes for my self/soul. Surely this must be for the attention.
Then something happened, almost undetected by me, as I get to use injury as a legitimate excuse.
My outside buffer has started to return. The push of some of the outside world was too painful I imagine, reminds me to much that I should only have a small life, so soft protection must be created. The place I started with, the physical challenge that started it all, was pushed aside. Yes I have a shoulder issue, yes it requires care and modification, but not giving up altogether.
So why did I? Easy answer, it’s my oldest monster. The payment due for the disruptions I’ve caused, the misunderstandings, the strife. Somewhere in my head that monster wasn’t loud but hammered away that that is not my place.
The funny thing is the heavier I am the less room I take up in some ways. My monster convinced me to do this quietly, slowly, but still be able to talk a good game about self work, self worth, and honouring the self. And the whole time my anxiety dance had me going backwards, to prove ( to the masses) I still valued what brought me to the point of feeling courageous enough to try to be a better version in the first place.
It is, very, fucked up.
So dear Village, my apologies, to you and to myself. I am sorry I have only been partially truthful in my monster battle. I am sorry that at this time the default pattern has won. The epiphany of this has me so sad and angry at the moment.
Please know, I am acknowledging these things as a way to get back to honouring what I want to be, who I want to be. Of honouring your belief in me ( or what you thought I represented).
The battle isn’t over.
Love big, hug often and forgive what and when you can.
Thank you for reading.
I woke up this morning deeply moved, and very much affected. Went to see A Star is Born last night. I ugly cried through most of it.
The deft hand used writing about addiction, mental illness and chronic conditions was amazing.
It’s hitting home especially hard right now, the destruction these things bring when left unchecked. The raw vulnerability when trying to bring yourself back from the brink. How susceptible one can be when not completely stable. How when we need to fill a certain expected role, we can until there is literally nothing left.
I could see myself in aspects of both characters. The darkness that comes when the monsters gain strength over the warrior. When the mental illness and addictive behaviours to mask take over.
The exhausted push to be the saviour for someone so low down they threaten to drown you as well.
And in the ways both characters demonstrate the desperation for it all to just end.
My heart feels raw, my eyes wet, not only for these fictional characters so realistically portrayed. But for any other having gone ( going) through this. For myself, my own struggle.
Remember to ask dear Village, not a throw away question- but a real ‘how are you?’ Prepare to listen, or just sit. Give kindness because you never know when someone is struggling. If you know someone with a chronic physical or mental condition, check in with them. You could save a life- someday that person may return to save yours.
I have always felt things intensely.
Joy, sorrow, love, pain, even the most mundane of emotions like boredom have a technicolor hue.
I know many people out there, us Empaths/Artists if you will, feel life as intensely as I do.
The gift/curse I have along with that is a love and decent talent for words.
Gift? Because it helps to get the intense feelings out of my head when I can explain them. Even the real good emotions, if not allowed to be expressed fill me up to the point of popping.
Gift? Because I know I have been able to entertain some as well. Sometimes even been blessed with being able to help others find their expression through my own.
Curse?
So easily I am misunderstood. Big, deep intense words get thrown around. Is she crazy? Depressed? She needs help if things are that dark, deep or off the rails. She should not express her feelings of admiration, love or connection so deeply to so many, there must be inappropriate things going on. She’s so angry. She’s too happy. She feels too much for too many.
I struggle. Between being the natural me that can express the orgasmic moment of eating a fresh cherry, how my heart fills at conversation, how kindness can touch my soul, cruelty rips at me.
And the me that feels the need to shrink, loose color so as to not make others uncomfortable, misunderstand or be able to make imaginary things out of what I say or write.
I have been shown both of these things. I have been told my expression as admirable, welcome, anticipated, appreciated.
I have had to face that these same words can be twisted, weaponized, used against me and others. Used to question intent because I express in big, deep colourful and powerful language.
I am me. I mean no harm. I find love and life to have many shades, I will not apologize for that.
I should not have to apologize for what’s in my head, for what I want/need to share. Yet today…….
Today I question. I question how and to whom I share. I question what is heard and interpreted. I feel myself watering down my expression of love for my Village, even though those feelings stay bold. Diluting the descriptions of my experience, I feel like I’m receding,
even though the quote that speaks to me is
‘I must write to empty my head or I shall surely go mad’ – Byron
Standing Still at the Speed of Light 