This evening I had a massage. While I lay there on the table, I tried to push all thoughts from my mind, and just relax — god, I needed that so much. I am very comfortable with the beautician who gave me the massage. After all, she’s my waxing lady too and has seen the most intimate parts of me. My mind was filled with thoughts about my son, especially the past two weeks, but that only tensed my body again. First I tried to concentrate on her hands, and then I noticed the music. Soft, soothing music. Spiritual. Like therapy.
Therapy, something I might just need
I have wondered about this. Therapy. I know how I am. I push things away, and just get on with the every day things. No fuzz. Just carry on. This means I ignore my own stress; sort of don’t allow or grant myself feeling needy. But I notice the signs in my body. I haven’t booked that massage for nothing, after all. I might need to go and talk to someone, you know, just to be able to voice my own fears, my own feelings. I constantly keep in the back of my mind that I can contact the psychologist who previously helped me.
The combination of this, and my experience during the massage, made me wonder about using music as therapy. Of course, by then I had already seen Jae’s prompt, and had wondered what to write for it.
I don’t have any go-to songs
There was a time when I listened to music a lot, but it has been many, many years since I just put on a play list of my favorite songs. In fact, the last time I did something like this, was when I still had cassette tapes. Now that’s ages ago. Then I went through a period where I played my favorite CD’s over and over again, depending on my mood. With the current day where you can make an entire play list in Spotify or other music services… well, I have never hopped on that train.
Master T and I still listen to music, but only on random occasions, and where we play our favorite songs, none of those songs can serve me as some kind of music therapy.
Are there even songs that will help?
There definitely are songs that can help uplift me, but the same song will not help every time. I can listen to a rock song and one moment it makes me feel alive; makes me throw off all those negative things, but the next I am indifferent to it. A romantic ballad one moment draws tears from me, and the next… well, I feel nothing.
I think what I am trying to say is that the same song sometimes helps to uplift me, and the next time I hear it, does nothing for me. I like music, but am not always actively listening to it, and will not actively seek to listen to it because I need an uplifting.
Sometimes, however, the feelings overwhelm me.
Paint Your Wagon
I grew up with the soundtrack of the Western musical film, Paint Your Wagon. Master T knows the musical, and happens to be a fan too. One night, many many years ago, we played our favorite songs. He wanted to surprise me, and played the song ‘They call the wind Mariah’. I listened to it, thinking back of my childhood years, and the non-communication I had with my father at the time.
It was when he played Wandrin’ Star from Paint Your Wagon that I broke down. I sobbed. I couldn’t stop anymore. All the pain and sadness of my relationship with my father — it started to go bad when I fell pregnant as a teenager — came out that night. I needed to get it out, to cleanse my soul. I came to terms with the fact that my father stopped all contact with me. Accepted it.
We started talking again when my mom fell ill, and we are still talking. Not every day, and not even every week. But, we are still talking. Our bond will never be what it once was, but we are still father and daughter, and respecting each other the way it should be.
A moment of tears
She first concentrated on my back during the massage, then my neck, and then went on to massage my arms, from my shoulders to my fingers. By this time I was quite relaxed and not really thinking about what to concentrate on anymore, but just… being. The combination of her hands on my body, giving in to the pain when she touched those tender points, and the music enveloping us, definitely helped.
She moved on from one arm to the next, and it was when she gently massaged my fingers, and then rested my hand in hers, while rubbing up my arm, that a thought crossed my mind: that’s so comforting. Like her holding my hand in difficult times. Tears filled my eyes, and that’s when I realized how well the massage was working. I went there to get rid of some stress, and it worked. Some therapy, right?!
Note: I am sure this is not the kind of post Jae was looking for, but I am going to link it anyway!
© Rebel’s Notes
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