I just had the worst massage I’ve ever paid money for. This guy used the same somewhat frenetic sweeping gesture on my back, over and over and over. He’d insert a little neck action or a quick rub of my arms and then return to sweeping, sweeping my back. Big circles. Nothing along the spine. No delicious pressure in the lumbar region. Not really relaxing.
And then there was how he sometimes used hot oil, which eventually felt good but was at first too hot and that of course made me tense up every time he went for more oil. At the end, he used a rough, hot towel to wipe my skin, which I actually liked but again it was initially too hot. WTF?
My thoughts didn’t help. I kept hearing in my head: I have a body and Danny does not. I have a body and Danny does not. Over and over the thought went through my mind like the masseuse’s ineffective and boring back sweeps. I have a body and Danny does not. At one point, I wondered about the Reiki session I’d set up for Danny the week before he died. Did he relax? Did she touch him?
On the table today I found it a little hard to breathe because the face hole was lined with a cloth that shrank the opening. My mind wandered. What if my masseuse was sloppy and inattentive because he was attuned to the ether? Any minute, he might ask, “Who’s Danny?” And then he’d tell me my son was near.
Ha! Such are the disordered experiences of bereavement, I guess.
I slept like shit last night. Apparently all I had to do was publicize my gratitude for decent sleep to bollocks things up. I was busy, busy, busy telling myself that I’d out and out failed at creating a family, because, well, look!
Ken woke up long enough to tell me that wasn’t true but I stuck with it as if a self-trouncing was the commandment of the wee hours.
Eventually in that wounding perseveration, I remembered Danny’s despair. Suddenly compassion entered the bedroom and bloomed in my chest. This wasn’t about me at all. Danny had not been able to handle how fully life had disappointed him. My poor sweet child could see no path forward. He was sick of trying.
Last night I attended some Dem-blue organization’s zoom call because Jamie Raskin was slated to appear. I admire him deeply, but I’ll freely admit that I showed up at least in part because Raskin also lost a son to suicide. His 25 year-old Tommy left behind a note that said: “Please forgive me. My illness won today. Please look after each other, the animals, and the global poor for me. All my love, Tommy.”
Danny quoted Stephen King: “Monsters are real, ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.”
Because I don’t want to end with such darkness, I’ll leave you with a saying of Roberto Frega that Raskin quoted last night: “The solution to the ills of Democracy is more democracy.”
So LFG Maine. A new candidate — now.
(((Dee)))~ Ah, the hours in the night and what they take, give, provide to us. What a valuable lesson: it is not about me. As a parent (mother) that is a big one. It is okay if the whole post is dark. I say, for me and maybe others, I understand.
Tommy’s note, and then Danny’s had me well up. sigh.
Yes, let’s go Maine…someone new now! Geez what a world.
Thank you for saying “it’s okay if the whole post is dark.” I just called the alumni office at CU/Boulder to tell them Danny died. I could hardly get thru the two minute call.
I too understand
Well, you’ll need to make an appt and it will cost you a cup of coffee, but I would be happy to drive up and could definitely give you a decent massage.
You’re funny!!
families are such a collection of moving parts, it seems they almost make themselves and it never stops changing.
I have never had a massage.
“They never stop changing” is an important reminder. And all the moving parts have so many influences.
another liquid puzzle
So I am one of those weird people who HATES massages. Maybe I have never had a good one. I just don’t know. But I always end up in pain for days afterwards.
I’m sorry you’ve never had a good massage. I have. Many over the years. So I know what constitutes a good one. This was not it.
I had a bad massage last week. I called and spoke with this person who had been recommended. I wanted a face and head massage with the express purpose of addressing migraine. When I got to her office, she told me that instead she was going to do a Thai foot massage and work on areas of my feet that correspond to my head. It’s not what I wanted. I said I wanted a head and face massage. She, the professional, said that this would address my migraine issues. I weighed it in my mind, thinking she’s the professional and I maybe should listen. I haven’t stopped kicking myself for not listening to ME. I knew what I needed and it wasn’t a foot massage. It’s not that it didn’t feel good, but it didn’t address why I had reached out to her specifically. Damn me. Needless to say, I won’t be returning.
Finally Graham Platner has dropped out. He has repulsed me since first he burst on the scene. I’m sorry for the abuse the women he accosted had to suffer. I’m grateful that they stepped forward. I’m even kind of glad it happened now and not before the primary or we would be stuck with Janet Mills, a fabulous governor, but she would be 80 upon being sworn in to a 6 year term. I think this could be our lucky day.
Too bad about not trusting yourself. We often know best.
Platner has suspended his campaign. He has yet to drop out. I’ll send you an analysis of why this distinction might matter over on threads. It bothered me on O’Donnell tonight that both he and the chair of the Maine Democratic Party kept saying Platner had “withdrawn” and “dropped out.” He has not.
Just forwarded you an email.
Not a good time for you to get a crappy massage … how frustrating. Sounds as crappy and frustrating as what’s going on in Maine. Nice picture of Danny smiling … In my minds eye he’s smiling down on all of us with a message that says everything is going to be OK.
Such a nice way to think of Danny’s expression. Thank you for that.