Something about not sticking my arm into the spin cycle of the washing machine. That’s what Miss Sarah, my therapist, recommended this week.
When the spinning starts – the unanswerable questions in my head; or the provoking text messages on my iPhone – if I stick my arm into the middle of it, I not only won’t stop the spin cycle, I will injure myself more.
So when the spinning starts – every few minutes, lately – I am doing my best to tend to myself. I’m restarting my breathing. I am rubbing my aching head or holding my nauseous stomach or laying my tired bones down for a nap. I am paying attention to me. Not the spinning.
But I’ll be honest. My arm wants to get in there. To even pretend I have any control would be some relief from the constant letting go. I guess this is one of those grown-up choices we all have to make sometimes. Ugh.
Here’s to not breaking our arms in the spin cycle. At least not today.
(Photo by Tripod Ape.)
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