massage day
Today was awful.
For Christmas, Mom gave me 4 pre-paid professional massages. She kept calling and asking if I had made my appointment yet, saying, "I don't want to waste these, it's a lot of money!" and so I made an appointment. For this morning. And I went.
I've had massages before, as part of my psychiatric therapy. To get me acclimated to physical touch. I went for something like once a month for 6 months.
Then I quit because I hated it and it wasn't helping anything.
So I start panicking last night about it, stressing. I didn't sleep for shit. This morning I noticed I was shaking.
Anyway, so I go.
I detached myself to get through it, and I got all the way through. But I was later than I expected to be and had to race back to work. i.e. I had no time to "come back."
It was awful. I feel horrible all over. Touched everywhere. I feel violated. I feel nauseated.
Then a lot of bullshit happened at work and I just could not handle it.
All I wanted was to come home and cry for a bit.
Now Mom keeps calling, wanting to know how I liked it.
What the fuck do I say?!
I can't talk to her, not yet.
I'm not ready to.
For Christmas, Mom gave me 4 pre-paid professional massages. She kept calling and asking if I had made my appointment yet, saying, "I don't want to waste these, it's a lot of money!" and so I made an appointment. For this morning. And I went.
I've had massages before, as part of my psychiatric therapy. To get me acclimated to physical touch. I went for something like once a month for 6 months.
Then I quit because I hated it and it wasn't helping anything.
So I start panicking last night about it, stressing. I didn't sleep for shit. This morning I noticed I was shaking.
Anyway, so I go.
I detached myself to get through it, and I got all the way through. But I was later than I expected to be and had to race back to work. i.e. I had no time to "come back."
It was awful. I feel horrible all over. Touched everywhere. I feel violated. I feel nauseated.
Then a lot of bullshit happened at work and I just could not handle it.
All I wanted was to come home and cry for a bit.
Now Mom keeps calling, wanting to know how I liked it.
What the fuck do I say?!
I can't talk to her, not yet.
I'm not ready to.