The Dreamer's Pen

My body has been hurting so bad. My back and neck are completely locked up and the pain has been nonstop for days. And I’ve had a horrible migraine since the end of last week. Sitting, standing, lying down – nothing feels right. I try to ignore it, I try to push through, but it’s exhausting. It’s like my own body has turned against me and there’s nothing I can do but ride it out.

Tonight, I drove my husband’s car through this ridiculous wind and rainstorm to get to my massage. Honestly, I probably shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t stand the thought of another night curled up in pain. The roads were wild with branches flying everywhere, rain coming at me sideways and wind slamming into the car like it was trying to shove me off the road. But I just kept driving. I had to get there.

When I arrived the power was out. The place was dark and quiet but they still took me in. That’s just how they are. No judgment. No hesitation. Just kindness. And in that moment, it hit me how rare that is. To be seen. To be welcomed exactly as you are, broken, aching, exhausted.

I saw my massage therapist, James. He’s a biker dude who somehow feels like a giant teddy bear. He’s the best I’ve ever had and he’s so into alternative medicine and healing that being in his presence already feels like part of the therapy. He took one look at me and said my cortisol must be through the roof. And he was right. You could feel it in the tension of my muscles, in the way I carried myself like armor.

We worked on breathing together. Our mantra was simple, but powerful: “In with the good, out with the bad.” In with the good. Out with the bad. Again and again. He pressed into the tight, knotted areas of my back and neck while I tried to let my body follow the rhythm of the words. It hurt. It was intense. But it was exactly what I needed. It was a reminder that letting go is possible even if just for a moment.

It wasn’t relaxing in the usual sense. Not a spa day kind of relaxing. But it was deep and necessary. The kind of session that makes you realize how much you’ve been carrying without noticing. How much stress, worry, and tension we store in our bodies without ever naming it.

When it was over I walked out into the dark parking lot. The storm was still raging. Wind howling and the rain still pouring.

I’m home now. Still sore, still stiff, but a little better. I’m going to ice my back, breathe, and just exist for a while. No pretending. No pushing. Just being here, in this moment, grateful for the small relief and care.