I lodged the ball in a hidden space between my back and shoulder. A tight, locked and tender place. And then I leaned.
Leaned into my bad side. The side that is deformed. The side, internally rotated, causing so much grief.
I leaned into the pain, into the sharpness the ball found. The place where blood wasn't flowing.
I leaned and pressed and turned, finding what hurt and working there. In the hurt.
I pressed, and my mind flooded.
This is what I've been doing.
In every facet of my life.
I leaned and exhaled, thinking about distortions and schemas and thinking about driving hours to talk to people and asking to do a job I've never done. Thinking about saying no. About walking away. About asking for more. About risking all over again.
Breathe out, realizing what had once been a year-long commitment is now five weeks away from being over.
The hard thing, the impossible thing, the painful thing... at least this one... is almost over.
I have spent almost a year laying on the proverbial lacrosse ball. Manipulating the fascia of my mind and heart and spirit in order to be able to navigate this life with less suffering and more grace.
Some lessons it feels like I'll never learn. That no matter how long I lay there, applying pressure in order to release the sinew and tissue... there's no relief.
But I am almost there.
And much like mobility work, the proof is in the re-test.
The evidence that your hard work and the discomfort paid off is when you re-test your ability to approach a challenge. What was maladaptive before, what was compensated, is less so now.
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