Acupuncture and Mean Min.

I have been, sporadically, continuing with the acupuncture. If you know anything about Eastern Medicine, and the only real thing I know is what Thomas, the acupuncturist has told me and basically that is: “Western Medicine has been around for a few hundred years…Easter Medicine has been around for thousands of years,” than you know it is holistic. In other words, about the whole body, to include one’s mental state.

At every appointment Thomas reminds me that we are a partnership. His role is to guide, support, listen and, of course, poke me with needles. All of which he does exceptionally well. So well, in fact, that I feel myself calming down on the drive over to my appointments and, after my appointment is complete, he has to kick me out. It truly is the one time during the week that I make “all about me.”

That probably sounds odd coming from a former, “it’s always all about me” girl. I still struggle with that former girl, by the way. But when I am at the acupuncturist, I consciously allow it to be all about me. I have really needed that. The freedom of letting it be all about me and that it is okay. No guilt. Nowhere to be. No one to respond to. Just…be.

I can’t tell you how relaxing it is to lie on a comfy, padded table, stuck full of thin needles, with a warming lamp positioned over your gut, listening to classical music. It is heaven. It is such a relief. Wednesday morning, tears rolled down my cheeks as I tried to quiet my mind and my body. It is exhausting living in a body that hurts 24/7; that vibrates with fatigue and anxiousness; that can’t see a light at the end of the fibro fog-covered tunnel.

But yesterday, finally, I felt a little hope. My body was stiff and sore, which is normal for me, but the soreness was a little different. Mean Min had worked his magic on the knots and tightness in my back, shoulders and neck and, although it was all tender to even the fabric of my shirt, it felt alive. Unlike the dead, hopeless pain of fibromyalgia.

Min is a quiet man. He greets me each week with a smile that, while sincere, has just the edge of “it’s all smiles now baby, but in a moment you will be screaming with pain.” Okay, maybe not screaming, but there has been much crying. Because it hurts so good. As he tortures each and every knot out of my back, shoulders and neck, the agony turns to release as I feel the tension roll out from my spine. And then he moves to the next ball of pain. Some days, it is all over pretty quickly. Wednesday, because I hadn’t been in a couple weeks and had been one hot mess of anxiety and sleeplessness, the torture lasted for 3 hours. Really it was only 30 minutes, but it felt like 3 days. And when it was over and Min quietly asked, “you okay?” I didn’t mind the unspoken, “after I just ripped the tight balls of stress, anxiousness, grief, pain and sleeplessness from your body?”

Because he had and it felt wonderful.

More on living with fibromyalgia in the coming days.

Love you guys.

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