“Do you smell smoke?” A client said, looking up and nodding their nose at the air. Doing the same, I then looked at them and said, “Yes!”
Without thinking, I pushed the chair behind me, took two large strides, twisted the knob, and swung open the door to see a large plume of smoke hanging in the air. My heart, already caught in my chest, somersaulted in panic. Where was the fire? “Oh shhh-” I said, turning. The masseuse with her door open, her hair dyed and cut troll-hair pink and her lip pierced, was fanning smoke filling and swirling the lobby that adjoined us. Her smile showed an Elijah Wood-sized tooth gap as she held a still-burning bundle of sage, saying, “I was trying to get out the negative energy. There must have been a lot!”
My focus on survival shifted to a caulked, dog-headed, quizzical feeling, and I thought, I am safe? My sense of relief was quickly met with anger. Who the heck burns sage in an enclosed office building? All her apologies and explanations bounced off me like bullets off of Morpheus in The Matrix as I about-faced back to my office.
For the next couple of hours, the stagnant smoke burned my nose, retriggering the panic I’d felt. It wasn’t until the session was over and I took a walk for my 2 pm session that I started feeling better. But until then, man, I was pissed. Like really pissed. Like I’m still really, really pissed just typing about it.
Meeting in between sessions, she came back to my office for the fourth time, going on about the negative energy, that I probably didn’t believe in it, and that it really did light more than she’d expected. All during which my head spun before sputtering out, “Yeah, but that wasn’t very thoughtful of others in the office, was it?”
Maybe it’s the clueless, selfish lack of taking actual responsibility that led to me feeling so out of sorts.
But yeah, I’m really freaking angry.
I’m not a big fan of being angry. It feels swimmy in my head, and I can’t think of much other than what happened. I replay it, the scent of it, her toothy smile, the fear for my life. Now I just sound dramatic. Dang it, I’m in such conflict with myself about how I feel and how I should feel about this.
Screw that. I think it’s really shitty of her. I don’t accept her trying to smooth things over, a poor excuse for an apology. Why do I feel so guilty? It’s like I have an expectation that I should be better than this, that I should rise above it and forgive. Or that I should have some wise thing to say or feel. To have a grudge isn’t ok. Ok, I’ll go with that. So, if not having a grudge, what do I do?
Ultimately, I was very scared. And I think that’s where all this is coming from. I usually never feel that vulnerable. It really shook me. But thankfully, now that my chakras are cleared, I’ll be in a cleaner-air office going forward.
So, all’s well that ends well.
Love,
Jaclynn
Going On 40 