Rita Garnto LMBT,RRT

Owner, Life Kneads, Inc.

July 11, 2011

Had dinner last night with my sister-in-law’s Mom. It was at the Senior’s Retirement community. It was   a nice dinner with our table of 7, good food, good entertainment (one man guitar), and good conversation. Oh, and did I mention there was a little boy … maybe two … that was dancing with his Mom during the entertainment and running around, supervised by Mom, of course, which added energy and smiles to the evening. You could almost hear the room sigh in unison … “oh, to be young again.”

It was a quiet evening to pause and reflect as I looked around the room at all the seniors. Some were in wheelchairs, some used walkers, some weren’t sure who or where they were but each one with an unique and special life story. Yet, each one in their twilight years knowing that their life end is just hovering in the periphery. Of course, always the big question … when will I die. Matter of fact, my Dad expressed a similar sentiment the other day. “I know I am going to go soon, but it sure would be nice to know when so I could plan to get some things done before I go”.

Back to dinner. We had a lively, friendly table. We joked and sang (not during dinner, of course, as my young girls know, at meal time, “if you play, your food goes away!”) and had friendly banter going around the table. One of the women on our table was Annelies. A German woman with a lovely accent, sparkling blue eyes, a lively demeanor, and big smile. Her husband, Henry, was very quiet and reserved – too quiet. Taking a closer look, I noted his brown eyes reflecting confusion and puzzlement. Ahhh … Alzheimer’s. His wife doted over him and answered his repetitive questions as a mother would respond to a child. At times, I would catch her unguarded expression – one that seemed tired, somewhat resentful, and annoyed. Annoyed at her Henry? I doubt it. I think the annoyance was more about being at the near end of her life and disappointed how things turned out. This sentiment came through when at one point in the evening, she looked at me and said, “ It’s a shame that we all live in the “later” and look at us now … it is later. Live for today and enjoy your life, because “later” is not always that good”.

How many of us have said … when I … “insert your option here” … have kids, turn 40, make a million, kids go to college, retire, move to smaller house …., I will “insert your choice here” … be happy, be less stressed, write poetry, get married, travel ….

Why wait? Tomorrow may never come. Thinking back to when my Mom passed away so unexpectedly last August. We had spoken the day before and little did we know that there would be no tomorrow for my Mom. Who knew?!

Wow, life really can be uncertain and unpredictable.  I think I am going to take Annelies’ advice to heart and really do my best to live today and not wait for LATER.

What a strange creature grief is. Having recently (very recently) experienced the loss of my Mom, I must say that one can not prepare or know what to expect when someone you love passes on.

Grief lurks behind, around, beside you. It can make you strong when you need the strength to get things done. It can make you so fragile and vulnerable when you least expect it. Tears literally can burst forth from seemingly nowhere. Sometimes the tears stop easily. Sometimes they don’t. I tell my 2 young daughters that I am “letting the sad out” when I cry and they understand.

What I have learned in this short period of grieving is to just let go and let your emotions run their path. Crying makes some people uncomfortable yet I have found the majority of friends, colleagues, business associates, clients will share those tears and the sorrow with you. Hugs come out of nowhere! Ya, hugs and tears seems to be directly proportional – the more hugs, the more tears … not a bad thing! True friends will not only pass you a tissue for your tears, but also keep one for theirs.

Honor your emotions, honor your grief. Remember to take care of yourself. Allow yourself to be cared for. Massage … ahhhh … what a wonderful way to honor yourself and your wounded spirit. What a wonderful way to allow the healing to take place with nothing but positive intention and caring. Focus on a relaxing, comforting, nuturing session. Let your mind float where it may. Surrender your body to the healing hands and energies of your massage therapist.

Yes, grief is a strange creature, but one that I am coming to appreciate in many ways. Be sad. Be happy. Laugh. Cry. Remember and rejoice in the memories of your lost loved one, but also remember the living. Reconnect. Re-evaluate. Love. Family and friends. Honor thyself and take care of you and the strange creature that is now a part of your soul forever.

In case you weren’t aware, there’s a whole lot of junk that gets stored in our muscles. I’m not talking about toxins here, I’m referring to the experiences, the emotions, and the thoughts that we don’t address and deal with everyday. That energy has to go somewhere right? Guess what? It goes into your body. You know that sciatic nerve that seems to flare up when you’re burning the candle at both ends? Or perhaps your low back gets achy when you’re not sure how you’re going to pay the electric bill this month.

Coincidence? I think not. Here’s an example of what can happen and how massage can help:

My fingers were trying to get these scalenes (muscles in the front of the neck) to show some sign of softness and life.

Rebar. These scalenes felt like rebar. You know, that metal stuff they put in concrete to stabilize it. Rusty rebar.

“My neck always hurts there! ” my client said. “Would you like to get rid of it?” I replied. “Yes!”

I believe a good resounding yes makes the transition from rebar to flesh much more likely.

“How long has it been there?” I asked.

“Seems like forever. At least 25 years” She said.

Did you have an accident or injury before this started hurting?

I have never ceased to be amazed whenever I ask this question. Clients who report never being hurt, the model of health, etc. will suddenly remember an accident they has been long forgotten. This sudden remembrance can come simply because we’re addressing the area where that memory has been stored.

This client with the rusty-rebar scalenes had a tale to tell.

She was driving down a busy street in her brand new SUV when she was suddenly T-boned driving through an intersection. Her vehicle was sent crashing into the sidewalk as nimble pedestrian jumped up the nearest light pole, narrowly escaping the prospect of becoming roadkill.

Soft tissue injuries aren’t just bumps and bruises. When someone has been involved in an accident there is a sudden cascade of hormones and chemicals unleashed by terror, anger, and frustration.

As the tale was told I felt the dense armor in her scalenes soften.

Intense, sure. I had a nice lie-down when I got home. I felt a bit of satisfaction that I was able to assist the client in processing the horrors of that day. Now it is a memory, not a cage.