Hatred

When I was a kid, one of my mom's friends learned massage therapy, and taught my mother what I now believe was a simple form of reiki that she practiced on my sister and me. Or, tried, anyway. It relaxed my sister, as is its purpose, but as soon as mom's hands hovered over my body, I would howl with laughter and couldn't take anymore. I didn't even do it on purpose--I just had an instant reaction to it.

A friend from high school eventually got into massage therapy. I was about to volunteer my back for some practice until I heard he quit. The reiki did him in. Evidently massage therapists pull out bad energy and emotions through reiki; once he took his patients' bad energy out of them, he didn't know how to release it from himself.

I don't take it personally if a client doesn't like me. It doesn't affect how I feel about myself, or about my job performance. The hard part is dealing with the effects of that hatred. Three times a week, I sit behind my desk, just sit there as wave after wave of hatred and rage hit me and are absorbed into my body. This person doesn't yell anymore. She just sits there and answers my questions with abrupt, one-word answers while refusing to look at me. The meetings take anywhere from 30 seconds to five minutes. If they take longer, it means we've gotten into an argument about something, and both one of us refuse to budge until I realize it's just prolonging having to deal with her, then I give in.

Then she leaves, and my limbs collapse. My veins feel shot through with lead; I feel poisoned and exhausted. And I can't help but think of how bad this is for my body.