School

School

On days where I felt particularly strong, (A.K.A. manic) I would look at the cliff face behind me and decide I could make it to the next ledge. And I would start climbing and make it and it got easier, but also harder. Easier because I had better coping tools and was stronger. Harder because the cliff became more hazardous to navigate.

My therapist and I discussed spreading out my sessions. And somewhere around this time, I decided, for reasons I cannot recall, that it would be a good idea to start school again. Massage school. It was a short program and I would be able to help people. That is what I wanted. I wanted to help people, but I knew I could not yet do what my therapist was doing for me. I would trigger too easily. Still I wanted to help people.

So I started school. And I immediately wondered why. I was twenty-eight. I’d been at the healing for less than two years. I guess it was just time for me to move from the easy ledges I’d been hanging out on and start climbing again.

Massage school held a lot of surprises for me. I learned that emotions can hang out in the body, and that massage can break them up and bring them out of the body. I know this because I cried every single time we worked on each other. We could be doing arms or legs, hands, feet, it didn’t matter. I cried.

I allowed myself to get close-ish to a couple people. One lovely lady had some very motherly energy that was a balm even as it was an abrasion to raw Self. She was kind and gentle and loving. I still talk to her sometimes. She’s wonderful, but she is also very human. And you had a piece of what I would think of humanity in a previous post.

The school I went to had a very good program. Though the teachers could make or break the classes. I was lucky to have a wonderful teacher for most of my massage classes and a few of my other classes, like kinesiology. I had a few classes that had little to do with massage and things like anatomy and physiology and pathology. Learned a lot about the body.

But what surprised me was the Asian class. We touched on acupressure/acupuncture, meridians, chakras, pendulums, energy work, five element theory, etc. We did pendulum healing on the chakras our second class. (Classes lasted five weeks and we covered all the material one would normally cover in four months. Very fast paced). I dissociated when the girl I was partnered with, another person I allowed myself to get close-ish to, worked on my root chakra. She got to my sacral chakra and I lost it. I screamed. Startled the rest of the class. I curled up into a ball and sobbed. Luckily class was almost over.

That class was almost unendurable. It was also an eye opener. It was the first time I started to understand why I was so open. We did some meditations and I found areas inside me that had been begging for healing that I had no idea how to access before. I had an idea now. And that was all I needed. I had learned earlier that I could do what I needed to for healing, and it was ok. I had given myself permission already and it was time to really get down to work.

So I started to learn about boundaries, energy protections, etc. I learned who I was energetically and by default, emotionally. A whole new aspect of my world had opened up. I had long suspected we were more than just physical and spiritual and mental beings. Now I came to understand the energetic and emotional aspects as well. It was a huge relief even though it was yet another long climb for me.

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