it's not what you think.

I have been super busy lately AND the blog site was down for a few days. So I'm sorry I wasn't able to post anything. But to satiate that appetite, I'll give you one of my favorite previously written pieces that I like to call "It's Not What You Think."


"Hi."

"Hi."

"How are you doing?"

"Been better. Long week at work. I’m so tense."

"Yeah, you look tense. Here, sit down."

I sit slowly, looking up at him pleadingly. He walks behind me and starts massaging my shoulders. It feels so good that I just drop my head and enjoy it.

"What’s going on at work?" he asks softly.

"Deadlines," I mumble. "Deadlines and meetings."

"Well why don’t you take off your sweater and lay down, let’s see if we can get rid of some of that stress."

I pick up my drooped head and unbutton my sweater. I slowly take it off and toss it over the arm of a chair. I lean back until I’m lying flat. He is standing beside me looking down and smiling. I close my eyes and sigh.

He takes my hand. His hand is so soft and strong and warm, I feel a shiver of calm go through my body. He stretches my arm up over my head as I open my eyes and let out a gentle moan.

"Is that too much?" he asks.

"No, it feels good."

"Wow. You’re so tight."

"I know, but it feels good. Keep going."

"Why don’t we try with you lying on your stomach instead," he suggests. I roll over and drop my face into the pillow. He moves my hair, then grabs onto my bra strap and slides it over. He grabs my hand again.

"Just relax," he whispers. "Let go."

He leans into me and I feel his weight. I exhale slowly, trying to relax.

"Oh yeah," he says. "This is much better. Do you feel how easy that’s moving?"

"Uh-huh," I groan into the pillow.

"Don’t resist," he tells me. "Just let it happen."

I close my eyes and let go. He adjusts the angle and starts pushing down on me, which hurts, and I whimper.

"Sorry," he whispers. "But you’re making huge progress. Your flexibility and range of motion are improving and I think you’ll have it back in no time."

He straightens out my arm and helps me off the massage table.

"Thanks," I say, rubbing my sore, recovering shoulder. "You're a lot better than my last physical therapist."