WordSisters

Tag: wordsisters

  • Need Help Unwinding?

    Need Help Unwinding?

    Chuck at his desk. The massage room is the open door on the right.
    Chuck at his desk. The massage room is the open door on the right.

    I knew I had waited too long even before I was on the massage table. For weeks I had a big knot in the back of my neck.  I grimaced each time I did a jumping front kick in Tae Kwon Do unless I was sparring. While sparring I’m totally in the moment–it is kick or be kicked.

    The knot, scientifically known as a myofascial trigger point, was shifting my head to the left so much so that I thought I would be wearing a neck brace soon if I didn’t take care of it.

    I called My Serenity and made an appointment with Charles Nowicki, Massage Therapist.

    Years ago, I was referred to Chuck by a friend.

    Generally, that’s where you find your massage therapist or handyman – through a reference. If someone is working on your house or your body you want them to be someone you trust.

    The first question Chuck asked me is if this would be a head to toe massage or neck and shoulders.

    I turned my neck, felt the ball of knotted twine. I said, “Let’s start with the neck and shoulders and see how far you get.”

    My massage was for ninety minutes. My neck was such a mess, I thought we might not get any further.

    After pouring lotion into his palms, Chuck rubbed his hands together. I lay face up on the massage table. He reached under my head and with his thumbs he began working on my taut band of neck muscles. There was a weird rice crispy popping, cracking, and crunching sound as he pulled, rubbed, and stretched my neck muscles. The large knot became smaller and smaller. Then he found new muscle knots.

    Muscle knots or “trigger points” are small patches of super contracted muscle fibers. His pressure on my muscle knots was a good pain as he kneaded my neck on both sides by digging his thumbs and fingers, and gently squeezing them together.

    I breathed deeply and focused on the knots evaporating under his touch.

    Chuck doesn’t advertise his services. You won’t find a website. His clients, from all walks of life, come to him by referrals. He has a home office.

    I sat on the couch while Antonio got a massage
    I sat on the couch while Antonio got a massage

    I brought Antonio when he was 11 years old for a massage. He was complaining about stiffness in his body that wouldn’t go away. I sat on the couch next to the massage table while Chuck worked on him. Antonio has asked to return.

    Chuck finished with my neck and moved to other parts of my body–back, arms, palms, fingers, legs, and even the bottom of my feet.

    He awakened in me the realization that attached to the bones of the skeletal system are about 700 named muscles that make up roughly half of a person’s body weight. (I’m kidding. I looked that up.)

    Chuck is quiet. We don’t talk during the massage. I am happy to be nonverbal and listen to the flute music that he has playing while he locates my knots, applies deep compression until the pain and discomfort dissipates.

    There is a faint scent in the air from the massage lotion he uses. Crystel likes to smell me when I come home.

    When my ninety minute massage was over, I asked Chuck how much I owed him. “$50.00,” he said.

    “Oh, no. I have to give you more than that,” I quickly replied. And then I made my next appointment.

     

  • Why Get Married?

    Why Get Married?

    P8100024-1-2reducedJody and I are asked that question. Maybe we were asked that because we were married 12 years ago in our backyard. And that person thought that celebration was perfectly fine so why do it again?

    The question made me stop and think. Why was getting married on August 10, 2014 important to me?

    A myriad of reasons.

    The most significant is that getting married made me feel legitimate.

    Regardless of your political leanings my not being able to be married as a same sex couple and having the same lawful standing as my heterosexual neighbors is as close as I can get to how illegal immigrants in our country must feel.

    You always stay a little hidden. A little under the radar. Don’t make waves. Someone might not like your relationship, your family and you will be discriminated against.

    Discrimination is undeniable.

    P8100031-1reducedToday I feel seen. I feel valid. I feel rightful. I have a partner. And her name is Jody.

    This blog isn’t a political rant. Jody and I aren’t activists. We’ve quietly lived our lives as a couple on our cul-de-sac, with the same ups and downs, the same challenges as all couples. We have two children. We worry about them as you do yours.

    Often we’ve had our children’s friends and parents over to our house to show how normal we are. Antonio was in Scouts and I was a den leader; Crystel in Scouts and Jody a troop leader. Antonio in soccer. Crystel in dance. All of us active in Tae Kwon Do.

    Being a Police Reserve Officer I always hoped that ‘badge’ carried a little bit of weight when we were being sized up as a different kind of family.

    P8100034-1reducedI hoped people saw us as safe even though we were a same sex family.

    Jody and I never thought that same sex marriage would be legal in our lifetime. And, I’m not sure that either of us cared. We were going to do what was right for us and protect ourselves by having a will, power of attorney, assigned beneficiaries, second parent adoption, and the same last name.

    12 years ago, August 10, 2002 flowers had opened to their utmost bloom and spread their green leaves their widest. Bees darted for nectar, dragonflies with iridescent wings dropped to the swimming pool for a quick drink. Butterflies watched from the fringes of the yard.

    P8100020-1reducedMy wedding dress was sky blue, sleeveless, floor length, with a swoop back. It brought out the blue in my eyes and matched my toenails. Jody’s dress had the same design, and was champagne.

    P8100021-1reducedMy niece, Jenny, was our flower girl, laying rose petals along the pool where we walked to the gazebo for the ceremony. Barefoot, we felt the softness of the roses.

    Aunt Jo, my mother’s sister, an ordained minister, performed the Holy Union ceremony.

    75 friends and relatives surrounded us while I told Jody, “I take you as my life companion. I pledge to share my life openly with you – to speak the truth to you in love. I promise to honor and tenderly care for you – to cherish and encourage you – through all the changes of our lives.”

    And she, in turn, said the same to me.

    155999_10204865713428150_1746575820117958063_n[1]12 years later, August 10, 2014 we did it again.

    But this time 150 friends and relatives surrounded us, our lives having grown twice as large because of our children and because we ourselves had grown.

    Crystel was our flower girl and best lady. Antonio our best man.

    Our Officiant was Minister, Judie Mattison. Butterflies and dragonflies once again danced among the attendees.

    And when “All of Me” by John Legend played and the words, Love your curves and all your edges All your perfect imperfections Give your all to me I’ll give my all to you, Jody and I held hands, rotated in the gazebo and slowly turned to face all of you- – –

    P8100136-1reducedMy mother-in-law, sisters and brother in laws, aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, fellow writers, Tae Kwon Do peeps, school and work friends, friends from long ago, and next door neighbors.

    Then right before the ceremony ended we rotated once more and breathed in your good wishes and blessings to the music of Gloria Estefan. If I could reach, higher Just for one moment touch the sky  From that one moment In my life I’m gonna be stronger Know that I’ve tried my Very best I’d put my spirit to the test …

    and we came out of hiding.

     

     

     

  • Try And Make Me!

    9781623364069_p0_v1_s260x420[1]I still have my book. It has di Grazia scrawled in black magic marker on the front cover.

    It is my guidebook, rules to live by. I have no intention of ever purging the book or giving it away as I have many parenting books.

    Today, I leaf through try and make me!, pages stiff from absorbing moisture in the bathroom. “I’ve seen that book,” Crystel says as I carry it upstairs to write this blog. Indeed she has. For kids from 2 to 12 it says on the front cover. Antonio has just turned 12 and she’ll be 12 in six weeks. She most likely saw me reading on the couch when she was little. I also recall many times when I slipped away from the two toddlers to read a chapter that was happening RIGHT NOW. That’s what I liked about the book. I could relate.

    Crystel and Antonio on our visit to see Antonio at Boy Scout Camp
    Crystel and Antonio on our visit to see Antonio at Boy Scout Camp

    Defiant kids are born or made. Because Antonio and Crystel are adopted, I was constantly trying to determine where their behavior stemmed from. In the end it didn’t matter. It wasn’t a question that was on my mind when my three-year old was jumping up and down in Super Target yelling, “No, no, no.” Instead, I glanced around for a place to sit. Then said, “Let me know when you’re done.” (Thank you to the mothers who acknowledged me and asked if I needed help).

    Once, I did ask for help. I asked a security guard at the Mall of America if he would escort me and my child out of the store. He looked like a policeman to the five-year old who immediately glommed on to my legs when he realized what was transpiring. “Do you see what is happening here?” I said. “I can’t walk you to the car alone.”

    12-years old
    12-years old

    Page 6. Never, Ever Give Up. That was the child’s last fit. It took years of constantly disengaging from his behavior and letting his problem stay his problem.

    Four characteristics of defiant children are: control-craving, socially exploitive, blind to their role in a problem, and able to tolerate a great deal of negativity. Beyond these characteristics there is another difficulty that can make a child seem defiant: inflexibility.

    To combat these Jody and I keep to a schedule, have rules for the children, and when they don’t follow them there are consequences. Because we have been doing this since they were young, few words need to be spoken. “Dude, you just lost your electronics,” is sufficient. Sometimes, I just purse my lips (so I don’t respond in anger), shake my head back and forth, and say, “You can continue–but there will be a consequence.”

    Crystel, Jody, Antonio, Beth
    Crystel, Jody, Antonio, Beth

    When the children were young I often looked for the root cause of a fit. In reviewing the Mall of America incident, I came to realize that I had broken my promise to my child to take him to the Lego Store. It had gotten late and I could see that he was over-tired (problem). I thought it was more important to eat than to go to the store because all of us were hungry (problem), which led to the broken promise (big problem).

    If I had been proactive, I wouldn’t have been at MOA with a screaming flailing kid at my feet, concerned that I was going to be asked for identification. In the days to come, I apologized to my child and told him that we would go on a date to the Lego Store. “We won’t buy anything. We’ll spend up to 45 minutes looking at everything.” And that is what we did.

    It was my child’s 12th birthday when I realized how far we’ve come. He was on his fifth day of a weeklong Boy Scout camping trip at Many Point. I promised him that we’d come see him on his birthday even though it was a 10-hour round trip.

    Lots to be proud of.
    Lots to be proud of.

    He saw us drive into the parking lot, and ran hollering, “Mama Beth, Mama Jody, Crystel.” Before his long strides reached us I thought of the bugs, the night, and the uncertainty of tent camping and a group of boys cooking outdoors. All those ‘thing’s’ that bothered him as a child. When he was young, to reduce his anxiety we bought a tent trailer, cooked food HE liked (and didn’t let it touch other food on his plate), and I accompanied him on all Cub Scout camping trips. This time he was alone to manage for himself.

    I started crying before he even reached me. This child had grown up and was doing just fine. I hugged him hard with the knowing of how far we both had come.