Frankie says Relax

Massage.

Doesn't the word just send blissful waves of relaxation washing over you? For me it's a love hate relationship. I am one of those touch-phobic souls. I have a high level of regard for my personal space and can freak a bit if someone invades it, yes, even when it's well meaning family. I spend hours arranging my desk at school so that only I can be behind it. The thought of a student hoovering right over my shoulders is akin to nails scratching down a chalkboard. And don't even get me started on the close proximity talkers! Can. not. handle. it.

I am fine if I initiate the contact. Side hugs? Only if I approach you first. But when it's not my doing, I feel like I'm completely suffocating. There have been plenty of nights that I have to extricate myself from the Mr.'s arm after he's gone to sleep. Otherwise I lay there awake, feeling trapped for hours. It's a full on panic at reunions and social events (church- I'm talking to you!), and I'm not afraid to say I have come across as socially awkward on a few of those occasions. It's not the germ issue. I'm no Howie Mandel or Monk. It's the touching part.

Knowing that, you may ask how I could possibly handle an hour long massage session without completely loosing my mind. And the answer would be that I have to fight the urge to twitch for the first 20 minutes or so before I relax and fall asleep. Only that didn't happen yesterday. I think my first "red alert" moment came when my massage therapist came in wearing a sweatband on his head. I can only handle light pressure, anything more and I completely freak- giggling, jumping, wiggling, gnashing of teeth- the works. So working up a sweat during my session is probably not going to happen. This guy was serious about some massage. About 10 minutes in I was starting to find my "happy place" when I was jarred out of my near bliss-fullness by. a. Drill.

Seems the yogurt place next door is doing a little remodeling. And they are unaware that a drill and a tile cutter can drown out the relaxing sounds of waterfalls and birds in the woods. I was pretty much a goner from that point on, as construction interrupted at least 3 more times during the session. And it's hard to get the full benefit of a massage when you're tense and panicky. And I couldn't just sit up and walk out. OK, maybe I could, but there would have been some kind of indecent exposure laws violated. So I laid on the table and counted in my head and pretended like I was a normal person getting a normal massage and not secretly terrified of him touching my feet. Somewhere around 3,037 it was over.

Relaxing is hard work.