Massage therapy makes every third of a year special. When it’s time to get a massage, my body usually feels the most ragged and disheveled. Like I’m in dire need of something new to refresh, loosen, and relax my muscles and joints. Usually, the therapist asks if there are any particular areas on my body that need special attention, and usually I’ll say my hand and back. Because my posture is never too good, my back and spine stretch forward too much, a feeling that the massage disintegrates. My hands need special help as a result of my carpal tunnel; I don’t know officially if I have carpal tunnel, but I show all the symptoms. Cramped finger joints abound. The only thing missing is the official diagnosis, confirming my status. When the therapist stretches out my fingers and twists them in just the right ways, it feels perfect for just a moment, like my body is returning back to its normal status. I know the feeling won’t last, but for the time after the massage, the post-massage feeling is the greatest.
Alex and I get couples massages together usually three times a year, scheduled around important or stressful events. When I was still a classroom English teacher, we would schedule around vacations or the start of school. A massage before school resumes is a perfect way to motivate a teacher. You don’t end up feeling so bad about the school year starting again. But this massage was scheduled awhile ago, resulting from the massage place messaging us with an awesome coupon. We didn’t schedule this one specifically for me to celebrate my new job, although I can appreciate the coincidence.
By the time this post goes up, on Thursday, I’ll have already had my massage, and maybe I’ll update this with the aftermath, reflecting on its effect on my body’s happiness.