My 2nd BioAquatic Therapy session was in the
ocean. The first one had been the previous day in the pool, and it had totally
rocked my world. When we arrived at the white sandy beach, our 2 groups of 4
got started right away. It was a different group than the previous day. I was
with 2 new people, and 1 who had been with me in the pool. I was happy to be
with her again since I’d felt unable to provide enough support. But now I
understood through having experienced being the client; now I understood better
what to do in the therapist role. Now I could make it up to her. And I did
right away; she went first.
I went 3rd, after lunch, on a full stomach. I’d
watched the two before me get used to the waves sometimes splashing onto their
faces. And although we had a nose plug to use, it seemed that it wasn’t
necessary after some adaptation time. But I wasn’t so sure how, or if, I would
adapt. I did a better job of supporting as a therapist this time, but felt that
the ocean was challenging. I did my best to surrender into being the client
when it was my turn. I truly did trust my group. I truly did feel safe with
them. But the ocean felt unsafe, and like a nuisance to me. The
unpredictability of the waves. The salt water suddenly splashing into my face.
I didn’t like it. And yet, I went into a deeply altered state again and again,
each one interrupted by what felt like an annoying wave making it harder for me
to relax. This feeling of being interrupted kept coming up. And yet I’d go
right back into a deep therapeutic state within a minute or two-- not that I
really had any conception of time, but it seemed fairly quick.
This session was very dance like again. I was even asked
afterwards if I was a dancer. The way my limbs moved. The way my body twisted
and turned. This session seemed to have a lot to do with my arms and legs, but especially
my legs, and especially my knees. At some point my legs felt as if they were
trying to detach from my body; they were stretching out so much. At least once
or twice I was aware that my left leg was reaching down towards the bottom of
the ocean while the right was what felt like up in the air and being held up by
one of the therapists. And then I felt pain in my knees, especially my right
knee. Immediately I knew what it was. It was anger.
Anger over what?
The car accident? Maybe. The nerve damage? Maybe. The
limitations imposed by self and others? Certainly. And my legs were angry at me
for how often and how easily I forget about them. Or at least how easy and
often it used to be; over the past couple of months I’ve been running energy in
a way that’s been helping me get more grounded and connected into my legs. So
that’s been good. But still they were angry. Perhaps holding some grudges and
now trying to let go.
And my knees? They don’t want me saying they’re nerve
damaged. They say they’re just perfect. Not damaged. They say to keep moving.
Keep loosening up my lower back. Keep visualizing all those nerves functioning
properly. They want me to feel. To allow myself to really feel. Even if it
hurts. Because that’s better than being numb.
This all wasn’t so clear during the session though. Just
little bits. Couldn’t really fully process what my body was saying with so much
repressed anger and pain running through me, trying to express and escape through
my legs. It was intense.
There was also lots of sighing. Loud sighing. Sometimes
sighs of relief. Sometimes sighs of annoyance.
The session ended with me feeling really good about some
things with the session, but mostly I just felt really cranky and ready to go
back to the hotel. There was still one more session though. I had to go into
therapist mode. And so I did.
The next morning I shared in class that I was still feeling
cranky and that the ocean was not my ideal treatment room for giving or for
receiving. I said that I felt safe with my therapists, but not necessarily with
the ocean. At times I felt supported by the ocean and like I’d merged with it.
But then suddenly something would happen that would annoy or irritate me. I
kept feeling interrupted. And although I obviously kept surrendering to it, it
all just left me feeling not so good. Certainly not “high” like the pool session.
And then the teacher’s assistant spoke up. She said that
she’d come over to assist my group for awhile. She said that although I was
saying I didn’t really like being in the ocean or feel so safe in the ocean, I
took the group out so far into it, so deep that they could barely touch the
ground. She even got sea sick.
Hearing this created a shift in me. A light bulb. Oh, it’s
all in my head. The rest of me felt totally safe. The rest of me loved the ocean.
The rest of me was ready and wanting to go deeper. Sometimes even too deep for
others, or my own mind, to handle. But I could. And I did. And I can. And I
will.
And with that I stopped dreading returning to the ocean the
next day. Instead I felt curious. What
will it be like, now that I’ve done it? What will it be like, now that I know
what I’m capable of?
I’d find out soon enough. But first? Another day with the
dolphins. More on that another time….
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