I am a very wound up individual (no, really?) and all my stress ends up in my neck, shoulders, and back. It's a Rossi trait (my mom's side). To this end I became a member of Massage Envy. In my opinion, there is nothing like massage. My massage therapist, Jaimie Lynn, has the hands of both an angel and the spawn of Satan. There are times where I am in heavenly bliss and times I want to turn over and let her have it with a barrage of naughty words. Jaimie Lynn always knows where my hurting places are and she attacks them with reckless abandon. There are sometimes more knots on my body than on the mast ropes of Pirate ships.
While under the pleasure (and often pain) of massage I have reflected many times on our Lamaze childbirth classes when I was pregnant with Lindsay. Relaxation is a huge part of Lamaze, as is complete focus. I found that I lack severely in each of those areas. My instructor used to come and sit by Artie and me and lament on how I was unable to relax. She was supposed to be able to lift my arm up and watch it fall limply, because I was supposed to be relaxed. Instead it would stiffen and so would her expression. Artie, who could relax on a bed of nails, was so frustrated with me - he just didn't get my inability to relax, become void of thoughts, listening to soft music, and the soft tones of the instructor' voice. YEAH RIGHT! My mind is never relaxed. I am always solving the problems of the world, thinking of what I needed to do last week, wondering about what I need to do in the weeks ahead, etc. Get it? I cannot relax!
So...when Jaimie Lynn turns down the lights and begins to do her best to work out all of my kinks and knots, I try boldly to concentrate and RELAX. When she's making nice nice I do OK, but when she goes into Hilda the Swedish Sumo Wrestler mode I am thinking about how I want to give her a piece of me! Mind you, her hands are amazing, and I might be exaggerating a bit, but my point is that no matter what, I just can't empty my mind and think of Hawaiian waterfalls, lazing languidly on a beach somewhere, running in slow motion through a field of lavender. Instead I am either thinking of how to get even with her or what I am making for dinner next weekend.
Then there's the music playing in the background. Most of the time it is some Asian sounding music with water running gently in the background. While others find this soothing it makes me feel like getting off the table and running to the bathroom. I don't need any suggestion of urination - I do fine on my own. Sometimes there is pan flute music, which, for me, conjures up images of some toothless Peruvian draped in some serape playing on the streets for money. Most people would be thinking of the lush South American landscape...but not me! On Friday Massage Envy threw in a new one - it sounded like torture music with high pitched sounds that I am sure would set all the dogs of South Elgin to howling. It was annoying to me and of course made me tense - the extreme contradiction to why I am there in the first place.
My final reflection of my massage experience came once again on Friday. Jaimie Lynn was kneading my back and I couldn't help but picture her working in a bakery doing wonders on a blob of bread dough. I nearly laughed out loud because I could even see her face dusted with flour, wearing an apron and a chef hat. Oh, what is wrong with me?
Do you think I should give up my membership??
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