FullaBella's Journal, 25 Oct 13

Yesterday the masseuse voiced, "Ma'am, I hope you don't take this the wrong way ... but has anyone ever told you you're what we call ' a silent stress sponge'?" Actually I'd never heard it put quite that way so I gave her a little leeway; not too much - didn't want her to turn into a chitty chatter gal while I was trying to zone out and meditate.

She explained what I already knew - I absorb stress but try to hide it. Sure, here in my uninhibited journal I vent, whine and dog paddle in my pity pond at times but in person I rarely ever 'let 'em see me sweat'. To give you a visual (confirmed by another friend who shared a fondness for the series) if this were 'Breaking Bad' I would be Gus Fring. Fastidious and controlled right up to the point I shred someone with a box-cutter.

This morning's victim was the moron in the grocery store doing the usual 'let me park my cart diagonally on one side of the aisle while I block the other with my body.' I was on the phone with the pulmonologist who arrived just after I'd loitered but finally departed the hospital, trying to discuss the coordination of ordering yet another very expensive piece of durable medical equipment for DH expected to discharge from the hospital today while picking up some items needed at home and get back to the store in time to open.

Clicking the heel of my right boot twice, very loudly, on the tile floor of the store did nothing to get the shopper to notice me nor move so that I could proceed down the aisle with my multitasking. So I finished my call and gave Rude Man a loud 'Ahem!'. Still no reaction. So .. I pulled out my box cutter voice and said 'Excuse me, please.' But as my emotions were already elevated to Def-Con 4 I couldn't just thank him politely as I passed; I lapsed into a tirade lecture voicing my opinion of 'stupid rude jerks in the store blocking the whole aisle for their own selfish ...' well, you get the idea. And yet, another day it's a surprise my mouthy ways didn't get me shot.

The masseuse said 'your muscles are telling me what you don't have to ... that you are taking care of a great many responsibilities right now. (that and my phone on vibrate rattled 5 times during the session). Good for you in taking care of yourself too. I do not think I will be able to break all of these spasms loose in one treatment and still leave you able to function physically. But I think I'll have you feeling a lot better when you leave today.'

And with that, she quieted and did give me an' extreme deep tissue massage. If you've never had one but have considered it, be prepared for some interesting reactions. Something about hitting certain muscles that have been 'tight' for a while was triggering thoughts of random events from YEARS ago. Pretty dang wild. Most of them were unpleasant and with each appearance, once I became aware of them, I bid them goodbye and visualized dunk-shotting them into a trashbin.

I truly walked OUT of that room in far better shape than I entered. I didn't feel an out of body experience as I did back in May but I could sense the floor was a foot deep in the pain and emotions she'd kneaded out of my frame. I even stopped and picked up a pair of slacks and my first turtleneck of the season. I felt marvelous.

But I must now figure out a way to eliminate "the sponge". Close off the openings. I need a stress shield. Something, anything, because the 90 minutes of her wonderful magic was completely undone within ten minutes in the hospital.

I'm not blaming it all on DH; it may be that I absorb the stressful aura of complete strangers. I'm not trying to be 'voodoo' or anything like that. I've often felt the reason dogs age seven years to our one is that they do the same. Perhaps I was a St. Bernard in my previous life but it is time to be more like a cat ~ not give a meow.

I returned home and ate some delicious beef ribs that had been dropped off by one of DH's friends (they were too spicy for him) and went outside to my wonderful backyard with Mushy. It was a fan-freaking-tab-u-lous beautiful evening. Blue sky and mid 70's. Mushy embraced her inner wolf as she chewed on a rib-bone (with Mommy standing by to make sure to retrieve it when she cracked it) and then rested on the lounge chair as I puttered with my flowers and played with my glass garden totem. The doors and windows were open as I attempted to clear any lingering negativity in my home too so no noisy AC unit outside. With each deep cleansing breath I would release an exhale of negative feelings until the inhale and exhale both contained positive gratitude.

This morning in the store brought another annual customer wanting to know 'what happened to that other, older lady.' I said 'it's me.' They argued.

After a number of these conversation I've considered lying and saying 'she died' but that would be disloyal to the better parts of me that made me the woman I am today.

I just want a way to stop having to have that conversation with the customers. I pulled out my 'before' pic and said 'this gal, it's me... I lost weight and changed my hair but I'm still the same brilliant charming gal I always was ...'

Hey, it was either that or the box cutter.

In case you missed it, I did bury the lead. DH will come home today. I'm glad he's better but would have liked at least one more night of solitary serenity. I did make my serenity jar, Kathy. It has little glass marbles in it for times when I think I've lost (mine).

Have a good day, all. Thank you for stopping by.

Bells