The Journey Inward

A foot massage, my friend suggested,
from a place in Chinatown,
something he does with his daughter from time to time.

Relaxing, I thought,
a perfect break from walking,
and a great pre-dinner activity.

Only it wasn't.
Not at all.
But instead traumatic.

I removed my loafers and socks,
sat back in my chair,
and closed my eyes.

At first, the rubbing was hard,
which I don't typically mind,
so I took a deep breath and exhaled.

But the pressure grew intense,
thumbs digging deeply behind bone,
and I looked at the masseuse.

My face contorted in pain,
and as he locked eyes with me,
he dug deeper still.

I pulled my foot away,
but he pinned it down,
and dug even deeper.

Panic began to overtake me,
and I looked around.  
Was there anyone who could help?

Another masseuse met my eye 
and mouthed, Painful?
I nodded, but he looked away.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax,
I breathed in and out slowly,
I thought of my happy place.

I looked at the others,
to gauge their pain level,
but no one seemed uncomfortable.

My body began to sweat,
my heart was racing,
and I looked at him again.

With no emotion,
he continued on,
digging into my foot, ankle and calf.

All I could think is that
when this 15 minutes was up,
he had another foot to do.

I couldn't speak,
couldn't advocate for myself,
couldn't make him stop.

I could feel the tears
in the backs of my eyes,
but I refused to let them fall.

I wondered if I had bad feet from running,
if this was typical,
or if I was just sensitive as a first timer.

At first when I stood,
my feet felt great,
and I convinced myself it hadn't been that bad.

But during dinner,
the ache began,
and I knew it had been real.

The bruises developed overnight,
covering my feet, ankles, and calves,
and lasted for 14 days, as did the pain.

A masseuse friend of mine,
told me I had been injured,
and that this wasn't therapeutic.

She send this was not okay,
that no therapist would ignore a client's pain,
and also, she understood my silence.

I made light of it at first,
when I told my friends and coworkers,
because humor often masks pain.

And so I unpacked the incident,
comforted my little girl who had been paralyzed by fear,
and took care of my battered body.

I would like to think I will self advocate,
stop the pain and physical harm if I should encounter it again,
but the sad part of trauma is that I just don't know.