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A Poetic Healing

Explore a page of emotional healing, through the words of poetry author, Kat Copeland. Decorate your home with intricate pieces of the arts and add to your treasured literary collection in the shop. Enjoy weekly blog posts of poems dripping with emotion. Each poem is a rhythmic cadence, easy to digest. Embrace a new contagious passion for poetry’s genre.

 
 
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  • Kat Copeland

Storytime

Updated: Jul 10, 2019

Hi my friends,


Please understand, while I will not be using profanity to recount this event, it is a mildly inappropriate story. If you are easily offended, do not read further. I have a bit of a problem with oversharing.


As you all know, my family took a Disney cruise recently. We had the greatest time. My oldest daughter and I did a video on my facebook business page, telling stories. I only had two negative experiences during this time. Sea sickness was one, though mostly overcome by motion sickness patches. The other is a tale of woe and misery. It all began on a dark and breezy night, the last of our days in paradise……


My husband insisted on ending our family vacation with a couples massage. I have had one professional massage in my life, other than that evening. I booked a bridal package for my wedding eleven years ago. I learned real quick during that time, there are individuals who enjoy strangers touching their bodies, and there are individuals who don’t. I am the latter. Despite a little push back, my husband did a sweet doting move, and booked our couples massage anyway.


The last night of the cruise, there was a lot of wind…… I don’t think you understand, A LOT, of wind. The boat was rocking so violently, I looked like Jack Sparrow on land, walking up to the salon. Yes, four flights of stairs, as I do not comfortably do elevators. My therapist was a tiny Asian woman, who couldn’t have weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. Now for such a tiny structure, this itty bitty girl was alarmingly strong, Mmmhmm. My loving husband booked us a SEVENTY FIVE minute massage. Out of that seventy five minutes, my therapist spent a seemingly sixty minutes on my right buttock, oh yeah I said it, but-tock. She literally massaged me from feet to scalp, and yet, spent more time on that one area than all the rest of me combined.


Let me paint this picture for you, I don’t think you’re properly visualizing it. I am uncomfortable, I have the anxieties as we all know. I’m out of my comfort zone being in international waters, trapped on a boat, surrounded by a minimum of five thousand strangers, I don’t know how to swim, a stranger is touching my NAKED body, and the wind is blowing with such bluster the rock of the boat is turning my face a shade of green you only see on a cartoon character. My ENTIRE body is tense, my heart is pounding, and I might be sweating a bit. Oh, yes that’s it. But wait, there’s more. For the low low price of a few more minutes, allow me to take this hellish experience a step farther.


My therapist is using what I feel to be an excessive amount of oil. She is abusing my right butt cheek, yes abusing, with her alarming hand strength. Now, as if her hand was not causing enough pressure to literally have me squirming in uncomfortable pain, this tiny being decides her elbow would be a better use of her power in sending me home unable to sit down. Her hand had more control y’all, her bony elbow was slipping and sliding with some swift intensity around my butt cheek, and with the wind storm going on outside, the table I was on literally swayed side to side with the rock of the boat. Her elbow kept sliding to my crack and stopping right before what I’m certain would have been an awkward awaking I’d never experience again. I’m tossing around cuss words in my head, trying to form intelligible words to inform this woman I would like her to BACK OFF, though words never made it out of my mouth. I kept thinking, if this woman doesn’t wipe some of that oil off soon, the surety of her failing to gain control of that elbow as it nears the Netherlands is inevitable. And this tiny woman, is going to see a big woman fly off this table with super-like powers and hear a level of cussing that should only be reserved for the devil himself. For a perceived sixty minute timeline, I did not unclinch from that table in preparation of this woman ramming her elbow where the sun don’t shine.


Climbing off that table was a slow and agonizing eternity as the room was not only moving in my head, but quite literally. I thought for sure I’d blow chunks on this poor woman, who was the perfect height to catch it all in the face 🤢 🤮 I made that slow descent back down the stairs to our stateroom, my hindquarter aching with each step as though I’d been beat for some offense. I was bruised the next day, in case you were wondering 😂


While I survived this night, without being violated by someone knee high to a grasshopper, it rapidly topped my list of top ten horrific experiences of my life, and I have vowed to never have a massage again for the remainder of my lifetime 😂


I laugh to keep from crying at the nightmare only I could experience, in what should have been the most enjoyable moment of our vacation.


laughter is the best medicine 💋


All my love,

~Kat

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