When your family doesn’t want to see you

I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster that has mainly had stomach churning dips that are never ending. There’s been a move, my husband’s surgery, my husband still jobless two years later, and my brother getting engaged. I feel like I can’t fully exhale because something else is just looming to punch me in my stomach for good measure if I try to catch my breath.

There has been a plan to visit my family that got dashed because it was my idea when to see them because I could get cheap plane tickets. Now, I’m staying in the city so that I can explore it for the first time ever while they can either decide to see me, or not see me. Yesterday both my mother and my father told me to cancel my hotel, plane tickets, because what was the point of my trip? It’s a lot of money to waste on sightseeing and that they didn’t want me to come.

My emotions that were well tied up for awhile broke at the seams. I was angry, hurt, sad, and told them that my original plan was to see them and this was my last chance to do it. With my husband being out of a job for so long and his 401K officially used up my plan is to pick up every weekend to make the most money I can. This is my last chance to travel until a time I just can’t see right now. But, since they didn’t plan for me to come and this was my idea I have had them attack my plan time and time again. 

My mind teeter-totters on the edge of just doing what they say, yet my stubbornness fights against it. I have this weekend and two days off for this trip and I won’t get put on the schedule at the last second. And I want this trip for myself. I need it as a break from the relentless working and stressing loop I keep falling deeper down. But, unfortunately, I end up doubting myself as my family tries to get me to disengage from this vacation. It’s a negative feedback loop that keeps getting fed every time I talk to them.

I think I need this for my own sanity to travel and enjoy a city I love and coincidentally came from.

Call me an unlucky unintentional klutz

I really don’t know what is wrong with me sometimes, if I truly am a klutz, of if I’m just unlucky… or if I’m a little of  both. I hurt my big toe on my right foot a month or more ago and it just started to not bother me as much and I got back into the swing of things. I went to the fitness room to do some cross fit action on one of the machines and then yesterday I went to the batting cages with the man. I was feeling good, and even had my steel toed boots on to prevent any accidents again with the ball hitting my toe and causing that whole mess that happened last time.

Everything was looking good, I went to swing for the last ball, missed, went to take a step, and landed right on my side. My ankle gave out and I tumbled onto the concrete with my bat slipping out from my hand. All I remember is that intense pain from my ankle dislocating, going to grab it with my one hand, and pulling my foot back into position.

And screaming, I was screaming at the top of my lungs bloody murder style.

There were two kids there that I remember their looks on their faces like it’s seared into my brain. There was confusion on their faces as well as just shock after I had stopped screaming and my ankle slipped back into normal place. My husband ran over and he offered me his hands to get back up on my feet. I took his hands and he offered me his shoulder as I tried to walk. My head started swimming and I only went a few steps before I just felt like I was going to pass out from the pain. It was probably one of the worst times it has happened to me and I’ve been spraining/dislocating both my left and right ankle since I was seven years old.

I wake up today and it’s still swollen and I’m just feeling… deflated. I was so excited about going back to the batting cages, getting my butt back up on that crazy cross fit machine, and the sensation that my body was mine again without pain. And now I have constant, leg shaking, pretty consuming pain back again with my left ankle being hurt from just stepping to the side and it going out. Whenever I’m prepared for my ankle maybe going out, it never happens. But when I’m walking, going down stairs, getting out of the car, or even just sleeping, it happens.

I can’t even walk around the apartment without severely hobbling and I am sure I look super pathetic. It will heal, and it may take longer, yet it still frustrates me and I want it to be over with as fast as possible. I want my body back again without that stupid pain that forces me to limp and stops me from doing things I love.

In another life you were in my career

I swear sometimes the man was a massage therapist in another life. When he massages me it’s just as good, and sometimes even better, than a professional massaging me. I have massaged many, many women and one of the main complaints about their boyfriend, fiancée, husband, seems to be that they can’t massage at all. They are terrible at it, ranging from too hard, to too soft, to not giving a damn at all and basically doing a terrible job just to get out of it. This is why they come and see me, because I’m a professional, and know that massaging a muscle is not literally muscling your way into it, it’s much more than that. There’s a reason why we go through school, learn all those techniques, do Pathology, Ethics, as well as a number of other subjects.

But he is just so good. And the night before he even was talking about doing stretches and range of motion (R.O.M.) tests like a true professional.

The man was just taking a little too much pleasure in finding my worst spots and digging into them. I tried not to show pain, and attempted to cover my face so he couldn’t read it, but he was getting the worst muscles to work on and just working them like you wouldn’t believe. There were points in it I’d try to crawl away from him only to get him yelling at me, “Breathe! This will be better once we’re done. Just breathe! You call yourself a therapist?”

He was taking a little too much delight in it. If a certain spot I’d stay a little too poker faced he’d move to something else and I’d be hyperventilating and whimpering at the same time. The techniques he used on me weren’t his own and the torture spots were some he had learned from visiting his own massage therapist at the chiropractor. She seemed to just tell him to breathe through it while he was crying, so it seemed like he was taking revenge on his poor fiancée massage therapist, which would be me. I’m more of a relaxation massage with deeper techniques, so I had never done what he was trying out on me on any of my clients.

And, if my clients ask me to lay off the pressure, I ease up. The man just saw it as an opportunity yet again to tell me: “Breathe.” I probably needed the intense work on my pec minor (which is right around where the collar-bone is, right below it) but it was definitely not the normal deep shoulder massage he gives me where its strong pressure, and I don’t have to crawl away.

Then, he got all professional and sat up. He told me to stand up. Then, he held his elbows next to his sides and tried to move his arm over his head in the bent elbow position. Then, he showed me another stretch where you reach back with your arm. And, another one where you try to bring your shoulder blades so that they are touching. Each stretch I did wrong and he had to correct me, and eventually he gave up on teaching me. I’m about the worst person to be taught, I need to see it, hear it, feel it, and have all the senses included or else then it’s impossible for me to pick it up. I’m a very hard student. That’s why I understand when some of my clients may not get the stretches I tell them at first because I wouldn’t get it until after being shown fifteen times or so.

I swear he was a massage therapist in another life of his. He’s too good at it and delights a little too much in finding those ‘goody’ spots and just making you say Uncle and then diving in even deeper. To say the least I’m still sore today from it.

Strained Lower Back

I never thought that my lower back would go out and force me to take time off of work… I thought my arms, my hands, or definitely my upper back and shoulders, but my lower back was the last on my list. I’ve never had lower back issues… okay, correction, I did once before because of a tail bone injury from falling off of my horse and landing on my butt purposely. Why the butt? Because, it was just so damn cushy and wouldn’t cause a broken arm, leg, ect. But, the tail bone injury was nothing compared to this.

A lower back strain, it happened Saturday night after work. Intensified especially when I went on my trip to Boston Tues through Thurs, and I ended up coming back early Thursday because of the pain. I couldn’t brush my teeth, or reach for my toothbrush without throwing out my back. I couldn’t sleep because every time I woke up it was near impossible to get out or in bed. I’m here today, in bed, not working either Friday or today because I need this to heal. I was put on an anti-inflammatory drug and Viccadin, and told to do some exercises which I’ve been trying to do.

I’m incredibly tired, to the point I just want to sleep and lay in bed all day long. The pain isn’t near as much as Sat.-Thurs. when it was its worst, and I can bend better, and move out of the bed better too, but it’s still not 100%. I’ve never had an injury like this that has made me scared that I can’t continue with this job profession. How am I supposed to massage when I feel like it’s near impossible to stay awake or walk for too long? I love what I do, and I love it with a passion, and I enjoy where I work and love even more the people I work with… I don’t want to be like the massage therapist I saw who used to work at the spa and is now working at a dollar store. Umm… no thanks.

I’ve never had such pain before in my life, so constant, and so unmanageable. I just wanted to cry all the time, especially when I just woke up. There was nothing I could do to stop or ease the pain, on the Boston trip I had fun but I dreaded every morning that I woke up because it got so much worse. I want this to be over with, and I want to be back to my normal self doing what I love to do.