As my masseuse is pulling every single part of my muscle tissue apart, I picture swollen little creatures inside of me screaming for help as she kneads them into oblivion. You see before my round of massages it had been 4 years since my last massage. That’s 4 years of binding muscle tissue and knots and other technical massage jargon that my masseuse has been explaining to me along the way. I promise I will understand the entire technical massage lingo eventually.
What I have understood and what I am getting from my massages; is that my muscles are all bound together and because of it, it is becoming difficult for my muscles to grow and develop. My masseuse’s magical, but painful fingers, a lot of stretching and mounds of hydration will help these muscles unbind so that I can pull, push, squat and bend further than I have before.
Even as I sit here, many hours later, my muscles are screaming and even a simple task like lifting my 22 pound toddler, feels like I’m lifting a baby hippo. The great thing and luxurious part of suffering through all this pain (and pain it is as my eyes are tearing at just the thought of my pectoral muscles being torn apart) is that tomorrow I will feel a less sore and be able to lift a little heavier.
Feeling a little swollen,
Until next time,
Live from the Inside Out,