Wet

Friday evening, my friend Skye (I know, right?) took me to her spa for a hydrotherapy evening. She has a membership to the spa that involves use of the hydrotherapy pools and massage. She gets one or two guest passes a month and asked me if I wanted to come with her this month.

The hydrotherapy set up consists of two pools and two saunas. You start in the hot pool. Then you move to the wet sauna where you scrub your body with salt (and you sweat and try to breathe the hot wet air). Shower off the salt, then out to the cool pool (which feels quite cold after the sauna), and finally to the dry sauna with cedar ledges. We did two full circuits, separated in the middle with a sit in the quiet room with tea and cookies, and then a final soak in the hot pool. Afterwards, I felt soft, smooth, loose, and relaxed. It was one of the most wonderful experiences I've ever had.

And we talked. We started out with the basic "what have you been doing lately" and, as we were there for nearly 3 hours, it just kept going deeper and wider.

I can be a chatterbox, especially if I'm feeling anxious or self-conscious. I realized later in the evening that I had forgotten my afternoon dose of Xanax, so that probably contributed some anxiety, but also I am still getting to know Skye and I am fairly insecure about my ability to make friends. Plus, I like Skye and want to create a solid friendship with her, so there's a little bit of anxiety there. (Hi Skye! I know you're there!) Because I know about this chatterbox behavior of mine, I remembered from time to time to specifically ask Skye about herself and to listen closely. Sometimes when I am in full-out chatterbox mode, I can forget to let the other person participate. I even apologized for babbling at the end of our hydro time, partly because I wasn't sure if I monopolized the conversation and partly because I was often chastised for talking too much as a child, sometimes by my parents and sometimes by teachers.

One of the topics that came up started with a discussion of fibromyalgia. In general, experts say that people with fibro should avoid exposing themselves to extreme temperatures. However, I enjoy heat a great deal. The few weeks when I went to a therapy pool for my fibro, I was completely grossed out by the body-temperature water. It felt dirty or greasy. ::shudder:: Heat doesn't seem to hurt my fibro any.

Anyway, the conversation wound its way to my telling the story of my good friend Deb, who also has fibro and who has overcome so many difficulties to live a comfortable and happy life. She continues to overcome difficulties, such as fibro, every day. Me? Every day I allow myself to give in to the difficulties in my life and I turn away from challenges and life in general. Skye listened to me intently, and then she agreed with me that I really need to kick myself in the ass and get moving.

Giving in because "I hurt" or "I don't feel like it" or "It's too hard" is like letting a kid skip school when they say they have a tummy ache because they feel anxious about something to do with school. The anxiety won't go away just because I give in to it, and the fibro won't ever go away, so waiting really isn't doing me any good at all. And Skye is a pretty straight-to-the-target kind of person: she didn't even try to duck when I suggested that I need to kick myself in the ass. I like that about her.

I spent yesterday enduring a lot of gastric distress and wondering if all that hydrotherapy forced toxins out of my body, and if that was what I was experiencing. As I also had the day to myself, I thought about what I had spoken about with Skye and how I can't keep waiting for my life to start. I have to start it. I plan to start by going through my to-do list, beginning tomorrow morning.

The rains have begun. I wasted the sunshine and warmth of this spring and summer by not getting out into them for walks much at all. If I continue to stay inside, not getting out for exercise, I'm going to go stark, raving mad by January. I either need to join a gym or invest in some decent rain wear and waterproof walking shoes. Hot + wet = good. Cold + wet = miserable.

I moved back to Seattle for a reason, to be with the people who are the closest thing I have to a family now, for better or worse. I love the lakes and Puget Sound and the occasional cleansing drench of rain. I don't love the months and months of rain and drizzle and cold and darkness. When I was in the hydrotherapy rooms with Skye, I had no awareness of what was outside — light or dark, dry or wet, warm or cold. I was wet by choice and 3/4 of the time intensely warm. I was getting to know someone I like better and finally opening up to what I need to do with myself and my life.

Water is many things, but most of the time it symbolizes cleansing and emotions. There's a lot of junk that's accumulated inside my mind and my spirit over the years, junk that needs to be cleaned out. And I need to stop letting my emotions control my actions.

Skye asked me if I'd be interested in accompanying her again for more hydrotherapy. I enthusiastically agreed. While I know hydrotherapy is not for everyone, I look forward to again being soaked and heated to my bones, to continuing to cleanse my body, mind, and spirit, and to continuing to getting to know my friend.

Seattle is wet, there's no way around it. But maybe it will help if I choose what kind of wet I experience and when to immerse myself in it.