This is a two post morning. The post from earlier today was started Yesterday, and we hate having to work on a post not from the day we are in. Does that makes sense?
Anyway.
Our massage therapist who usually comes on Tuesdays to give us deep tissue massages at our apartment is gone on holidays for six weeks or more, and he never contacted us with a substitute therapist who does house calls like he said he would. The reason we have a massage therapist that makes house call is because we don't like leaving the house all the time, only if we want to; so if we have an appointment and don't feel up to going, we are liable to skip it all together.
We are feeling, and have been feeling, anxious all week. We are not sure if it is because of the increasing pain in our neck and shoulder, or not. The pain is blinding and burning, and highly concentrated in the solid mass of muscle tension and knots we carry in our left shoulder. Yesterday we didn't drink any coffee and it didn't see to make a difference in the level of anxiety. We don't know what to do about the pain.
At least the headaches has subsided for a bit, but we'd rather have the headaches we've been having than this pain and anxiety in the rest of our body; mostly we are happy that we don't have all three right now.
It doesn't feel good, the pain or the anxiety. There is no reason for this impending attack, necessarily. Our life has become simplified in a way so that we don't have to experience this, which is probably making us more anxious. Anxious about anxiety.
Our plan to manage this, because we don't believe in medications, is writing about it, like we are now, and to try to talk ourselves into leaving the apartment today to enjoy the nice weather, and to go buy a new summer dress. We are not in agreement on leaving the house. One thinks we should stay in and paint, but it seems pretty clear that this shaking and anxiety, and feeling in our head, will not benefit the new painting we are working on.
We don't know what to do.
We are one, We are many, We are Just Call Me Frank. Candid, adjudicating, philosophy wielding, life journaling, mental health advocating, writing and art therapy enthusiasts, lovers of learning; adventurers with a finger on all the buttons. Writing to survive and thrive.
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if I could do the ole massage thing for you, I would. even if that’s all it was. if it helps, sometimes I don’t want to leave apartment either.
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