Massage or non-sexual masochism?

Today I tried a Thai massage. Or should that read Thai torture session?! I thought I would like it given my positive experiences many moons ago while travelling in Thailand. What I noticed was some striking cultural differences between delivery of this as opposed to a massage from an English person. For example, the English enquire as to what kind of pressure we want and ask us to say if the pressure needs adjusting (knowing we’re often far too polite to do so leading to regular check ins). Upon completion we may also be asked how it was for us.

On this Thai front, things were done differently by the one delivering it. The pressure was such that at times a few involuntary groans/whimpers burst out of my mouth. This despite an ability to bite down the words or sounds that could make matters worse, being learned at a young age. But even this entrenched grinding/clenching manoeuvre was overridden by the extraordinary level of pain experienced!

Now, I’m the first to admit I am very wimp-esque when it comes to physical pain. My feet have bled in response to a Thai pedicure before – I see a theme, is this a Thai thing? But this did evoke next level pain which took me way back to similar endurance type massages in Singapore and China. I wondered back then if I was being tested to see at what point I would break (or part of my body would) by asking them to stop. No need to wonder this time as the response to my spontaneous groans and gasps (not of enjoyment) was, ‘breathe’. It was bad but I wasn’t about to stop breathing having survived way worse! It wasn’t a response of recognition followed by any appropriate adjustment of pressure though.

I could of course have spoken up and insisted in a gentler handling of my sensitive self. But as there were also moments which were nearing enjoyable, I persevered. One always feels like an endurance of such discomfort must be doing some good. I’m not sure if the ‘no pain, no gain’ motto is simply a masochistic lie we’ve been sold or how much truth is in it, if not. I guess like all things we are each different and responsible for what does or does not work for us.

Throughout I was aware that any fleeting relief upon moving away from one part of my body was quickly replaced by pain from another. Yet I also felt an unusual but good feeling in the parts of my body that had been battered/massaged. I was torn between thinking it was making me feel good and at times being more painful than I wanted to endure. Especially when paying for the privilege.

Towards what I hoped was the end, I noticed myself start some plea-bargaining style prayers to God. You know the type, ‘Please God, if you make it stop, I’ll be a nicer Christian’ type stuff. But I quickly realised I wasn’t even fooling myself let alone Him! And besides He has given us free will to own our choices and I chose to have the massage and I kept choosing to let it continue. I was thrilled/relieved/grateful when it finished though. On my way back through reception, I grabbed a sweet.

“I think I deserve that for surviving the experience”, I commented to the person sat there. They were too English/reserved/disinterested to reply.

And as I wasn’t asked how my experience was, I couldn’t release the words desperate to escape my mouth,

“I am grateful I got out alive”.

All this makes me think of my clients. Quite often the process of therapy feels painful and unpleasant yet yields an improved experience thereafter! Perhaps whether physical or psychological we all have different tolerance levels. Important to check in with the individual in question and hope that they will be honest with themselves and the one asking. This whether the asker or askee.

Anyway, I didn’t mean to but I took myself for coffee and cake to recover from the experience. And I thought this probably defeated the object of self-care but then remembered my moderation rule. It was only one cake after all. (so far today).

My partners response to my experience was,

“ … deep tissue massage is no joke, JoJo”.

Well, there was no laughing involved and there was almost some crying. All of which means I won’t be subjecting myself to round two.  Some massages are relaxing and soothing but leave me feeling like I’m still tense inside. Others leave me feeling way better once they’re over than while they’re happening. And some hit the spot which releases tension without annihilating me in the process. Hurry up and come back regular massage lady, is what I have concluded.

Hopefully I won’t awake covered in black and blue bruises tomorrow! And no, I am not being dramatic!