Miss me yet?
I was just standing in my bathroom getting ready for bed and thinking about my blogs and wondering why I haven't blogged in such a long time. Honestly, I love it. I love tracking my progress through my life and having other people hear me out and relate to my problems. And I've said before how great of an outlet it is for me sometimes. But I was thinking about when I had lunch with a girl who read my posts before she moved to North Carolina and she made the comment that "my friend [in New Jersey] is gonna freak when I tell her I had lunch with the girl from the blog!" (shout out to Kelly, if you're reading this). I will probably never forget that moment. In that moment, I felt so...important. I felt like I had a purpose, and it was one of the few times last year when I was writing my Freshmeat blog that I felt that I had any reason to continue. There were actually people out there who were paying attention. There were people out there who cared. Then this year, my blog became a bit more popular (in case you didn't know this, I can track the number of views each post receives. Pretty cool) with my view counts starting to grow. Not saying I'm some mega BlogSpot celeb or anything, I'm not that popular. But my audience has grown. And that makes me feel good.
But my writing has dwindled down to a. Maybe because I made real friends, something I didn't really make last year. Maybe its because I'm really busy with my job and school and obsessively watching Netflix. Or maybe its because I haven't had anything to write about.
Until now.
Ooh. Talk about a heart dropper.
So today after my shift at work I was scheduled for a massage. I talked with my therapist- lets call her Tiffany for anonymity sake- before we began so she could get an idea of what I needed work on. We discussed my scoliosis (I have a slight curve at the bottom of my spine), the knots in my shoulders and the neck tension that causes occasional headaches. Before she began the massage, she said to me, "Olivia, I'm a Christian woman, so I would like to ask for your permission to pray for your healing." Being a Christian as well, I said I was perfectly fine with that. She explained that her hands would feel very warm because that was God working through her. She ran her hands slowly up and down my back for a minute, then my shoulders. About five minutes into the massage, she ran both her hands down the sides of my spine, feeling where the curve is. Then she moved to the right side of me and place both her warm hands on my back right above my hip, explaining that she was going to leave them there for a while. After a few seconds, she noted that my muscles were relaxing considerably, and I noticed that her now static hands were growing warmer and warmer. After a minute or two, she moved back to my head and ran her hands down my spine again, then again.
"Olivia," she said, "your curve is gone." ...what.
At first I thought, no. There's no way Tiffany, this plain ol' massage therapist from some random place born at some random time in history just happened to correct my scoliosis I've had for years. But the more she ran her hands down my back in a perfectly straight line, the harder it was to deny. She brought in someone else to watch her. She was so excited, proclaiming that the power of God healed me, that the Lord didn't want me to live in pain and suffer through school as a hard working student with a job. I feel bad for the way that I just lied there, nodding and offering up an occasional "yeah," but I just couldn't believe it. And I could check myself without her noticing, potentially offending her. So the second she left the room after the massage, I jumped up, bent over, and ran my own hand down my spine, something I've done to feel that curve a thousand times before.
That curve...that I no longer felt.
Impossible. Impossible, right? But suddenly I felt so high. So high on the awesome power of God, on the miracle that just occurred. When I was diagnosed with scoliosis, the doctor told me that there was no fixing it. The curvature wasn't bad enough to wear a brace, it was just something I would have to be aware of. And here comes Tiffany who, within ten minutes, used her blessed hands to heal me. I called my sister when I left and cried to her out of amazement and being so overwhelmed.
But by the time my mom called me back when she got off work, after that high subsided, I've come back to doubting. I keep running my hand over my spine, but I can never get my own hand at a good angle to really feel it. I even had Lizzie try it and she said she felt a very miniscule curve at the bottom, but in the other direction than before. So now I'm just confused. I asked my mom to call my doctor and see if he can order an X-ray, and I'm probably going home next week to get that done and be sure.
But even still, I just can't stop thinking about how Tiffany's hands were never as warm as they were when they were resting on my suffering muscles.
xoxo
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