The pain and anger that I was experiencing since my adventure in the hospital, didn't seem like it was ever going to disappear on it's own. I was sinking into a swamp of despondency and frustration. The pain I felt had become the structure to which everything else had become oriented. I needed help.
Gene lived and worked near my job and sounded friendly and enthusiastic on the phone.
I arrived at his place for our appointment with no idea what so ever about what to expect.
He led me through a maze of clutter and disorder, to a room that he used as his office.
In the room, was a massage table surrounded by piles of magazines and books. Boxes full of miscellaneous junk were piled nearly to the ceiling. The walls were covered with hand-drawn posters and charts illustrating muscle groups, energy meridians, and trigger points. I had to be careful not to step on the hairbrush or the diverse toys and bits of plastic on the floor. Gene was very excited to see me and talked fast. He asked lots of questions, not only about my accident and injuries, but also about my diet, my favorite color and my birthday. Between the mess everywhere and his strange manner, I was a little apprehensive. But I never considered leaving. My friends at work swore that he could work miracles and a miracle seemed like the only thing that might make me feel better.
Gene left me alone to undress and get on the table, face down, under a towel. He returned after a few minutes and began to press his thumbs and finger tips into my back and neck. It felt like there were rocks and ropes and knots all through my back. The pain was so excruciating, but surprisingly, it was WELCOME. It was terrible, but my body was also loving it. His touch was like drinking water after a year in the desert , without.
Gene was still talking nonstop, but I wasn't hearing a word he said. Occasionally the phone would ring and he would stop to answer it, to my irritation, leaving me alone for what seemed like an eternity before returning to the exquisite pain. When he started to work on my left arm that had been shattered, I saw stars... and then, images. Images of my father, then of my grandfather, and then other men who I had never seen but recognized as my great grandfathers. There was fire and whiskey and broken glass and and cold anger. I realized that I was caught up in a cycle of pain and destruction. That I had the power to interrupt the cycle and the power to create a new cycle.
The session lasted almost three hours. When I left Gene's place, I felt like I was floating three feet above the ground. I felt full of oxygen and purified. But I was also mad as hell. Gene said that this was emotion that had been stored in my muscles that was being released. I wasn't so sure. I was still reeling from the anger that rose up like the tide when he had the audacity to say that my "accident" wasn't an "accident". He said that the violent drunk smashing into me and all the complications in the hospital was something that I had created and that I should stop feeling sorry for myself and do something about my life.
In spite of the anger, I felt so grateful to Gene. Also, I knew three things that were certain:
*That I was free from the past.
*That I had the power to control the direction of my life.
*That I wanted to be a massage therapist.
Thanks Gene!
**(Later, I learned that word of mouth is the best way to find a bodyworker!)
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