Not Too Well

Entry 1: Part 4

Wow.

Just . . . wow.

I've sat here for around ten minutes now trying to write this, but I don't even know how to start. I'll just start from the beginning, how about that?

The drive from the station to the wellness center was exceptionally long. I didn't end up getting there until somewhere around 9 PM. Naturally, I thought arriving so late in the day was going to mean checking in, going to my room, and calling it a night. But apparently that's not the way they do things around here.

The staff member who'd greeted me at the car––a gentle looking older woman named Rosemary––wouldn't take no for an answer when she offered me dinner. It took barely three minutes within the lobby for an employee to hand me a bowl of fresh broth.

"You've just arrived from a world that does little to nurture you," Rosemary told me. "Let that soup revive you from all of the diets and junk others might've forced your way."

Surprised (and a little overwhelmed), I took a sip. Maybe it was just her words, but the moment the spoon hit my lips, I felt oddly revived. I drank the whole thing in one big gulp, and was given another bowl as I went through my paperwork for the week visit. I probably would've had twelve bowls if they'd given them to me.

When I finished checking in, I asked Rosemary where I could find the schedule for the treatments going on tomorrow. She only shook her head and told me there wasn't one.

"We're going to need to assess which treatments we feel you're most in need of," she told me. "Your treatments depend on how much you need curing. Once we figure that out, we'll make your schedule."

The way she worded it made me feel like I'd accidentally chosen a rehab spa––what with the whole "cure" thing she was mentioning. Tim had talked about that in the office, but I'd assumed it was more for dramatic flair than anything.

When I started showing a bit of apprehension toward everything, Rosemary took me down a few long hallways to a space the size of a classroom. Ten or so people were inside, seated in a circle. I'm not sure if they were talking before, but they went completely silent upon my arrival. With a few dimly lit candles as the only source of light in the room, it looked to me like some kind of séance.

Rosemary told me that this was one of the wellness center's nighttime meditation sessions. She thought it would be nice if I sat in on it while staff members prepared my room, just so I could see a little more of what this place is all about. Conveniently, there was one more open seat in the circle.

As if it were waiting for me.

Now, I'm definitely not the most zen of people. I'm too impatient for deep breathing, and my two valiant attempts at taking yoga classes were both complete failures. This meditation session seemed to me like a complete bust before it had even begun. But then the instructor started to speak.

There was something about his voice that seemed to compel me. It was like . . . like gravity, if that makes any sense. It's the only way I can think to describe it. When he asked us to close our eyes, they were already shut before I knew it. When he instructed that we dip further into our subconscious, I could physically feel myself sinking down, as if his hand were pushing me further into the chair without a single touch.

And then he began to talk about water. I don't remember everything he said, but the moment he mentioned water I could feel myself within it––completely submerged in the ocean, but breathing just fine regardless. There was a weird sort of power to it, the ability to breathe underwater. I felt revitalized. I felt tranquil. But most of all, I felt truly and genuinely in control, which is something I didn't realize I stopped feeling a long time ago. There are so many deadlines and assignments and obligations constantly controlling me––making me feel like I'm swamped, like my world is flooded with things I need to do and get done. But all I needed to do in that room, in that chair, was to keep breathing. And so I did.

Wow, right?

So here I am now, in my room. It feels like a hundred lifetimes since my chaotic morning getting to the train. I expected to have a headache by now, like I usually do after work, but my head feels really clear.

And I like that a lot.