Spread open like a chicken

I had a revelation while on the massage table this week.

I was face-down, naked under a sheet and with half my body (the long way) being pummeled by elbows. Felt amazing. Won't hide that.
But it started me thinking. I felt like one of those turkeys that you see on cooking shows where their skin is being massaged with butter, herbs shoved under their skins and ready for crisping. Then they spread their drumsticks apart to shove stuffing in, and the whole time this turkey is just being manhandled. (can you tell that thanksgiving is coming?)

I felt a little like that. Spread open. Bare. It felt familiar. And for the last year I've felt like that a bit too.

Too open.
Too exposed.
Life was too much.
Too emotional.
Too many people.
Too much alone time.

Then I thought that I don't think that anyone could have known just how overwhelming I found everything. I shut down the external part for many people in my life.
I didn't know how to ask. And more importantly I didn't know what I needed.

What I know now is that I'm thankful for help.
For people that told me to get help.
And for my accident that set off a chain of events that let me hit bottom. But also forced me to take care of my body.

Sidenote; I read recently that emotional pain can manifest as physical pain. To the extent that if you're genuinely hurting, then try taking an ibuprofen. I'm not advocating, but it's an interesting concept.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I felt comfortable. I felt as though the naked part wasn't as overwhelming. I could see the similarities, but I didn't feel sucked into a previous emotional mud pit.

Put your Wellies away kiddos. I'm not playing that way today.

-Rachel