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Tag Archives: sensitive

Maybe.  Maybe not.  Perhaps the world will end on Friday.  Perhaps it will simply be another winter solstice.  Doesn’t really matter to me.  I love my life and don’t feel like I’ve missed out on anything I should have done if it’s all going to end on the 21st.  Then again, I won’t mind sticking around for a while longer if the apocalypse does not, in fact, decide to make an appearance.

Regardless of Mayan calendar accuracy or lack thereof, it feels heavy around me lately.  I seem to be hearing about a lot of deaths, and that started before the Connecticut school tragedy.  I have a good friend who called me last week and simply asked, through tears, if I could send him love because he was going through a rough time.  That same day, a potential client called saying she was at the end of her rope, and did I think maybe Rolfing could help when nothing else had?  People in my life who never get sick are coming down with the flu.  And I’ll be honest; I’m freaked out about the lack of precipitation we’ve had, even if I’ve been loving the sunny days.

In the end, it’s all okay.  Whether we all die on Friday or not, everybody dies, as painful as that is for the ones who are left behind.  Sometimes we need to go through rough times in order to realize what’s not working and what other possibilities might exist.  Sometimes we have to reach the end of our rope before we’ll try something that seems totally insane, but just might work.  Sometimes the flu has to come and remind us to slow down and not work so hard.  And sometimes there is drought in December in Colorado.  That’s just the way it works.  It may not be easy or comfortable, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad.

I’m not trying to brag, but through all the heaviness of late, I’ve been feeling exceptionally good.  Not that I haven’t had a rough day here or there, but in general, I’m in a good place.  Which means I’ve been able to provide a calm harbor for some of the stormy stuff happening around me.  Yes, you can cry on my shoulder.  Yes, I’ll gladly give you a hug, and another one after that, if you want it.  Please, go ahead and tell me all about your hard day and I’ll make you some tea.  What a blessing to be able to provide that for others.  It’s been such a pleasure to be able to pour out love to people and situations that need it.  I know it’s cliché, but it’s true: the more love I pour out, the more I feel pouring down on me from the universe.

I know that you may be hurting right now.  Or you might be on top of the world and living the good life.  Either way, it’s okay.  I just want to ask that if you’re hurting, you ask for what you need, as scary and difficult as that might be.  I need a hug.  I need you to sit on the couch with me.  I need you to take me out and distract me from myself for a few hours.  Please don’t be afraid to ask for help, or love, or kindness, and to keep asking until you get what you need.

And I’m also asking that if you feel amazing, that you please be gentle with those who don’t.  Try to exercise a little patience, since you’re not in a hurry.  Try to be a little more sensitive, since you’re not feeling vulnerable.  Try to be kind, since you’re not feeling hurt or sad.  Because while breakdowns are natural and necessary, they’re not easy or fun.  We’ve all been in that place where things feel too difficult to manage.  So I’m asking that if you have gentleness and love to spare, that you spread them around.

It may be the end of the world as we know it, but I feel fine.  If the apocalypse happens on Friday, it’s been a pleasure knowing you.  I’m grateful for your presence in my life and I love you.  And if Armageddon doesn’t come, the same is still true and happy winter and enjoy your weekend!

What am I, a sadist or something?

Actually, no, despite what people accuse me of when they find out what I do.  I don’t enjoy hurting people.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  I do feel a little surge of satisfaction when a client walks in to my office claiming “you can’t hurt me,” and then I make them cry ‘uncle;’ but I have a bit of a spiteful streak, just ask my mother.  Generally speaking, I don’t want to hurt you or anyone else.  The goal of every session is to help, not hurt; unfortunately, sometimes they’re one and the same.

So, how can you decrease your chances of feeling pain during a session?  Every once in a while, it’s completely unavoidable.  Breaking up scar tissue isn’t fun for anyone; and everyone’s got an extra-sensitive spot, whether it’s the IT bands, or the ilio-psoas, or the bottoms of your feet.  However, most pain can be avoided with two little tricks.

First, there’s water, water, and more water.  Dehydrated tissues are like glue that’s begun to dry out:  it’s really thick and hard to move, and I’m in the business of moving tissue.  Well hydrated tissues are like, well, watery glue:  runny and extremely pliable.  I can tell as soon as I start working who’s a big water drinker and who’s chosen diuretics for their liquid intake instead.  Diuretics are anything that cause the body to expel water; such as caffeine and alcohol.  Sugar requires so much water to process that it also causes dehydration, so even caffeine free pop and juice can lead to gummy, sticky tissues.  I cannot tell if you just chugged a bottle of water before your session, unless I start pressing on your bladder.  Nor can I tell you had three cups of coffee this morning, except by the fact that you’re having an awfully difficult time lying down.  What I can tell is what your patterns are.  When you’re thirsty, do you reach for water or pop?  Do you start every day with a pot of coffee or a cup of herbal tea?  The more hydrated you are habitually the less pain you’ll experience during your sessions.

The second little trick is talking to me.  Everyone has different sensitive areas.  And everyone has a different pain threshold.  Until you let me know where your boundaries are, I have a hard time reading your mind.  Sure, there are clues people give off, that I’m well-trained to pay attention to.  Holding your breath, clenching your jaw or fists, and a fluttering of your eyelids may all indicate that we’re working in a place that’s not at all comfortable.  But it’s better for me, and you, if we don’t get to the place where you’re holding your breath at all.  And since you’re the expert on your body, you’re the only one who can tell me “we’re getting close to the edge of what I can take.”  So please do!  Communicating with me about what areas are sensitive and when you’d like me to slow down or ease up can go a long way in making sure you’re not jumping off the table.  You’ll also get better results if we’re not causing problems in your jaw while working on your IT bands.

While I try my best not to cause unnecessary pain, much of the responsibility lies with you.  So quit assuming it’s fun for me to see you jump, please.  I’m only here to help.  I promise.