Tag Archive: me

Have you watched that show Awkward? I probably shouldn’t admit that I have–or that I consumed the entire first season over 12 hours when I first discovered it–but I have, and I did.  You see, the A. that’s my middle initial–it may as well stand for awkward. Not in the TV series sort of cute-awkward-girl-still-gets-the-guy(s)-way. I’m no Zooey Deschanel. More in the doesn’t-fit-in-even-18-years-after-high-school manner. Yup, my dirty little secret is out–I’ve never really been in. I probably never will be either.

What were supposed to be the “best years” of my life weren’t exactly a day at a Cancun resort. I imagine that’s true for many people. You couldn’t pay me to go back. And since then? Well, that’s been pretty full of awkwardness, too. Not really knowing what to do with myself in social settings. Overcompensating with mixed drinks and a loud mouth. Still feeling like the piece to a different puzzle altogether.

Tonight’s catch-up episode from Season 2? Reminded me of an experience I had 3 years ago. Right before this blog started, when my creativity burst free again, and I decided to do something with it instead of ignoring it like I had for far too many years. A high school acquaintance crossed my path and, at the time, was trying to get people to attend a weekly poetry night he hosted at a local juice bar. It reminded me so much of the mid nineties coffee house scene that I couldn’t miss it. And after my first visit, I was hooked. This is what had been missing in my life. This is what I had been overlooking. This needed to be a part of my life again.

The idea of standing in front of a crowd, baring my heart and soul, terrified me though. My friend understood that was exactly the kick in the derriere that I needed. One night he called me up on the makeshift stage and I had no choice but to do his bidding. And while my arm wouldn’t be still and my voice wavered with fright, I survived. And then I craved more. It was scary. Oh, being in front of a crowd, even if it only consisted of about a half dozen souls, was an anxiety attack waiting to happen. The adrenaline boost, however, exceeded any alcohol-induced buzz I experienced, and what came after can only be described as an awakening. The prince had placed his kiss. My slumber had been broken.

The more difficult part came 9ish months later. The birth of an idea that was fertilized that summer; a poem that won a creative writing award during my last semester of school. I was 32 and I was about to recite a poem about things most of my classmates had no frame of reference for. Shaking like a leaf is an understatement. I managed to speak every word, to attempt eye contact at intervals across the room, and all because nobody I really knew was in the room (other than my favorite professor and his pet student, who was helping run the event). These people didn’t know what all those birds stood for. They didn’t understand the feelings behind the poem; the internal struggle that waged, finding its way out in these words. It was subtle enough for the uninitiated to remain clueless. It was soul-baring enough to make me feel naked in front of the faculty–those who had lived enough to probably know exactly of which I spoke and probably have their own tales to tell. It was one of the bravest moments in my life.

Now? I’ve traded my rare moments in the spotlight for a few random, intermittent, semi-drunken karaoke sessions. Other than that, I keep to the back of the crowd. Where I belong. Do I need to be a part of it? Well… sometimes it would be nice. It would certainly make some aspects of life easier. But do I need it? No. I have two awesome kids. I have a husband with whom I’ve shared 18 years of my life. I have some great friends who are my support system. That’s all a girl really needs, right? So I didn’t outgrow my awkward phase. There are worse things in life than that. (Like my television viewing, apparently…) At least I’m choosing to be me. Whoever she is. That’s what matters… right? I’m too old to be Jenna. And too old to be bothered by that either.

It’s easy to get wrapped up in the day-to-day operations, forgetting that you have needs, too. Between my job, kids, husband, pets, and blog, I find myself steaming along at an alarming rate at times with no cause to pause. The body, however, has other ideas. If you won’t listen to its whispered warnings, it will find another way to get your attention, usually in a manner you’d rather not endure.

Last week was a bit too hectic. #BrunchWeek, as much as I loved it, brought on a slew of daily promotion at a more feverish pace than usual. Add to that 4 nights of going to bed at 1:30 AM, only to awaken at 6 AM, and a night out with my husband checking out a new band and the next thing you know, my shoulder is screaming in defiance and the muscle spasms in my leg and ankle are practically preventing me from walking. Enough is enough. The body will be ignored no longer.

I have a bad history of pushing aside my problems until they cannot be ignored anymore. Even when the shoulder issue presented itself, instead of attacking it right away, I began internet research. I can see it now: someday, I’ll have a heart attack and instead of calling 911, I’ll be on google trying to see what else my symptoms could signal, convincing myself it’s nothing more than a bad lunch or lack of sleep that’s the cause. It’s ridiculous how much I’ll minimize my own needs! When I decided that I wasn’t, in fact, dying (it was my left arm, after all), I signed up at my favorite wellness center–A Healing Trail–for the next available appointment.

Massage therapy isn’t new to me. When I was pregnant with my daughter, I started having sciatica issues. The pinched nerve would crop up from time to time, but a massage or three would work it out and then I’d return to my routine. I love massage, but with a tight budget, it’s been too much of an extravagance to indulge in regularly, even if it’s helped my health. Sadly, when I signed in to the online scheduling website, I discovered it had been 3 years since my last rub down. Years full of post-surgery pain that could have been addressed without popping pills. Ridiculous!

Given my need for immediate care, I saw a new massage therapist this time–the owner of the facility. She was kind and considerate, running at a much slower pace than my frantic one. When she asked what was wrong, I rattled off a litany of issues so fast, I’m surprised her head didn’t spin. Then she asked how much water I had been drinking. I answered her honestly–I knew they recommended being well-hydrated before massage therapy, and I knew I was nowhere near that. My sheepish answer of “a couple cups so far” was given with the expectation of receiving harsh judgment, but she gave me the gift of education instead. I’ll admit that I was a little impatient at first when she discussed the function of water in the body–I only had a half hour for my appointment, after all, and I wanted to make the most of it–but I began to see the point, and understood that she was trying to help me, not lecture me. Water is essential. And if you don’t drink enough of it, the body will act out. Those muscle spasms I suffer from? They’d likely be lessened by a proper intake of water every day. And no, I wouldn’t have to take up residence next to the toilet to achieve that. In time, my body would adjust.

upgrading from my cup to a water bottle!

She left and it was time for me to strip down. In retrospect, I’m amazed at how easily I did this, given she was a new therapist for me and I can’t even pick out a new doctor because of how hard it is for me to trust new people. (A whole other long story with insurance changes being the catalyst… needless to say, I haven’t seen my PCP in quite a few years, another error I must remedy soon.) Still, I climbed up on the table, covered myself up, and let the warmth wash over me. I closed my eyes, desperate for relaxation to come. Funny thing about that–you cannot will it to happen. And with a busy mind, it’s frustratingly elusive.

The massage therapist returned and got to work. She explained how I could help relieve some of the tension at home, especially in the muscles around my shoulder blade, where they are in a horrible knotted mess. She stressed how important it was to work both sides, as tension on one side could be pulling the other, knocking the body out of whack.

My mind refused to empty and I kept worrying there wasn’t enough time. Still, the kneading and prodding felt fantastic, albeit a bit painful in the tight areas. The next thing I knew, 30 minutes had passed and she had touched on far more than I thought possible in the time frame allotted.

I didn’t jump off the table ready to leap over small buildings, but there was a definite improvement. One that, in order to continue progressing, will require more care. Stretching. Drinking plenty of water–half my body weight in ounces, every day!! Moving. And coming back in 2 weeks for more kneading. Because I need it. Badly.

I put myself last all the time, but this time, I need to do this. I need it for my well-being, both of body and mind. To renew my spirit, to help me get back on track with my fitness goals–derailed time and time again by pain–and to assist me in refocusing and growing. It’s time to be good to myself. It’s time to take care of myself. Because if I don’t, nobody else will.

How are you good to yourself? What do you do to love your body, mind, and spirit?