December 28, 2015

Deep Tissue Massage vs New Pair of Shoes Why I’d Rather Splurge on a Deep Tissue Massage than a Pair of Shoes Sounds crazy, right? I thought so, too. I mean, a pair of shoes lasts forever. And a deep tissue massage lasts 60 minutes. Sixty fleeting–albeit blissful–minutes. As you might have guessed, I’ve now changed my mind. The other day, I had a deep tissue massage for the first time ever. I know, I know– I’d been missing out. 20 years old and more than enough stress build-up to justify one, and still no massage. Actually, I lied: I’d had a 30-minute massage once, at a large chain massage emporium-type place, but that’s it.  Sigh… Sad, really. Anyways. My massage may technically only have lasted 60 minutes, but the experience had all these lasting impacts on my life that I hadn’t even anticipated. First let me just tell you about the experience of the 60 minutes themselves. You know all those knots in your back or the weird sharp pains you sometimes get that bother you all the time, but there’s nothing you can really do about them? Like, you can gripe and complain to the unwitting listeners around you, but let’s be real: they don’t care. They don’t physically feel your back pain and they don’t have any sort of power against it; so they can listen to you whine, but that’s where it ends. Well, telling my massage therapist was a whole different story. She cared. And she somehow magically had the skills to know exactly how to fix those knots and pains. She (her name was Patricia) told me she also works at a chiropractor’s office part-time, and has learned a lot there about fixing specific back problems. She knows how to target the exact problem areas so that they actually are fixed, instead of just glazing over them with the rest of the massage and leaving you needing more to really help the pain. After my deep tissue massage, the most problematic areas of my back got the exact attention and care they needed to ease the aches and pains. I know, #blessed. At the chain I’d been to for the 30 minute massage, there was none of that specificity. It was like I walked in and I walked out, barely even leaving them with my name; they didn’t think they’d see me again, so they were like “Peace out!” and I took the cue and left. But at this smaller spa, everything and everyone just tried harder to make sure I got the benefits from the deep tissue massage I deserved. Sure, I didn’t get the big-business bargains, but I got a way better massage. Worth it, in my opinion. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d stumbled upon the best deep tissue massage in Boca Raton. So there was that. And then there’s the whole “zoning-out” process of the massage. It’s like you sink into this head space where it’s just you and your body and all the stress of life drains into the heated bed beneath you and you just lay there and… well, forget. That’s the real beauty of it I think. We’re all so weighed down by the constant craziness of to-do lists and responsibilities and other fruitless worries, like whether or not our hair looks okay. But none of that fluff really matters. When you’re in that room, all the nonsense tunes out for awhile, and you zone out and enter into this point of clarity where only the things that really, truly matter are left in your head; the rest has been filtered through. At the end of the deep tissue massage they do this head massage bit, where all the relaxation you’ve been feeling in your body finally permeates into your brain. It’s really kind of an amazing finale– you just lay there on your back and let the tension you didn’t know could be hiding in your scalp just fall away. And then it’s over. Emerging from a massage is perhaps the strangest experience to ever occur indoors. You put your clothes on, try to remember how it was you ever restricted your newly-massaged feet with shoes, and then sprout from the room like a tiny faun who’s forgotten how to exist in the normal business of everyday life. You emerge from the dimly lit room, and there’s your massage therapist, awaiting you with a smile and a cup of water. There’s tea and a hot towel awaiting you as well, as if you’re this revered goddess of serenity whose every need for comfort is effortlessly fulfilled. You pad your softened feet into the lobby of the spa and accept the water graciously, half expecting fountains to burst from the ground beneath you and ferns to grow from the walls. That initial feeling slowly wears off, of course. But the muscle tension release, stress evaporation, and other various benefits remain. They’ve sunken into your skin for you to keep. I experienced some of this later that same day. I exercise most days and have grown accustomed to experiencing the unpredictable aches and stiffness of my muscles during a workout. It often holds me back from working at my best. But after my massage that day, I didn’t have a single issue. In fact, during my workout I felt much more energized than I usually did. I could feel my blood flow work more efficiently during cardio and I was in a much better head space to push myself and get the most out of my hour. Who would’ve thunk that a relaxing massage would make me more motivated to run? So really, my body, my mind, and even my spirits were positively effected, and the 60 short minutes of the massage permeated their peaceful way through the rest of my day (and future days). All of these experiences got me thinking: why hadn’t I indulged sooner? Why had I, so many times (too many if I’m being honest), justified purchasing a particularly pricey pair of shoes or an especially shnazzy new dress,