Stress As Relaxation

The Raven Spa's entryway-a beautiful spot, but one I didn't mind leaving behind.

I'm really not one for relaxation. Case in point: Mark wanted to tack me onto his semi-regular appointment for a massage last Tuesday at the Raven Spa in Silverlake and I practically begged him to let me not go. I begged this man to not pay for me to get a massage! I'm bonkers. But the truth is, the idea of having a couple hours of solitude to work on my e-portfolio (the only thing standing in the way of me getting my MLIS degree) that's due in exactly one month sounded so much better on the stress-reduction meter. He didn't budge. He told me I'd think of nothing and almost want to fall asleep. He told me it would leave me feeling weightless for the rest of the day. He, ladies and gentelmen, is clearly not me. Because I spent the bulk of that hour of getting twisted, kneaded, and turned thinking about when it was going to be over, perusing the next door Broome St. General Store, and what I needed to get done that week. Sure, it was nice, but the truth is, I think I'd get more out of a yoga class or spinning. I can't sit still without feeling guilty-the massage felt like an over the top, wild luxury. The other day Mark's brother asked me why I wouldn't consider going to a place like Hawaii for vacation after I mentioned our plans to visit Australia (already a semi-chill compromise of destination on my part), and it all became clear-I consider stress and the pressure of go-go-go to be living. Hawaii sounds so boring. Ha! I don't feel guilty about traveling the globe because while I'm gone it's hustle, hustle, hustle to experience everything I want to see-but laying on a mat for an hour? Panic. It may be that I'm seeking a fulfillment that I don't already possess (thanks, stalled career) but either way, I am slowly realizing that the more that's on my plate, the happier I am. Even if it means my back is a tangle of knots that require bribery and coercion to work out.