Rolfing My Life

I stood in the office of my medical massage therapist and Rolfer. I started seeing her to treat my carpal tunnel syndrome. Someone I met on an airplane told me about her. But then she was so amazing, I kept going back.

Rolfing.

Sort of a combination of massage and chiropractic that works with your muscles and your bones.

The whole thing is about releasing the places in you that are stuck. The really old patterns. The way you breathe that makes your ribs always open more on one side than the other. The way you stand, with the lower part of your back a little clenched. Whatever it is. Finding each of those places, that your body holds onto. The tension. Having it worked out. Letting it go. Being willing to let go of all the work you do to hold yourself upright in a neutral position that is actually all lopsided and uniquely you, but not purely you. The you that holds tension and has been hit by life and can't let go of some things. Working on that you.

That you.

Rolfing is about letting go of pieces of that. Ten sessions to work through your entire body. Getting to the real you. The deeper you. Who you might have been.

I like the idea of it.

If it all it took to let go of something was to let a stranger separate your tendons and muscles and bones from each other. A moment of tightness, pressure, and then relief. Relief.

If only. 

I stood at her desk after the third session.

"Do you have a card?" she asked me.
"A card?"
"Yeah, like a business card?"
"Oh uhm. No. Uhm. Wait. Uhm." I started to open my purse.
"An energy medicine card?"
"Oh. No. No I don't." I tried to recover. "Not with me." Images of the card UNC bought for me flashed through my head.
"Maybe you should bring one next time."
"Yeah."
"Because I want your card."
"Ok. Yeah."

How many cards can you have at once? And how many people would you have to be to fit them all in your wallet?

She'd already told me she wanted to try a session with me.

People say things all the time.

Part of how I survive this world is by not taking seriously nearly anything anyone says.


"You're pretty much my best friend."
"Oh... I know that. Yeah." Shoulder jab.

"You're such a good listener."
"Excellent auditory memory. Can't help it. Can you imagine parenting a child who remember what you told her when she was four? That's me!"

"I love you!"
"Ha. Yeah. Sure."




Sometimes I'm worried I'm in a contest to be cynical in the most heartbreaking ways.

#winning. 


I know words are actions too. But they can be so fleeting.


You can't win them all.


Cards? Printing? A career. An identity.

Investing.

In who? What?

I Have A Ph.D.! 

"Have you heard of imposter syndrome?" my friend asked.
"Oh. That's not my problem. I think I'm amazing. I just think people don't fully appreciate me. And the system is stupid. But, I'm pretty awesome."

I meant that 100%.

Except for the part where I don't do the things I might probably be best at, because they terrify me. Because maybe I really am not good enough.

How could you be if you spent all of your time going through the motions at things you don't care about?

My friend said I'm not alone.

Lots of us feel like this.

Like we don't fit in perfectly.

Like we're not sure if we're in the right place.

I always think if you have to ask... you already know.

Is he cheating? You know.

Is it going to rain? You know.

Who am I? You know.

(Ha. Yeah. *Shoulder Jab*).

You know.

You know.

Fuck.

Maybe I don't want to.




Happy January.

Am I supposed to feel ready for this yet?

Namaste.