Just Relax

The one where I try to unwind at a Korean spa and end up confronting grief & trauma, between my rock-hard shoulder blades.

The other day I went to a Korean spa with a girlfriend of mine. She’s been encouraging me to come with her so we could “melt all day” between saunas, baths, full-body scrubs and massages.

And while that does sound amazing, when the time came, I was full-body anxious and very ready to cancel. The idea of being somewhere I couldn’t distract myself, where the entire goal was to let my body unwind, be calm, be taken care of, rang every alarm bell in the part of my brain labeled: Grief/Anxiety/Permanent Fight-or-Flight Mode.

But I showed up. I told myself, like I do every time I can’t commit to anything lately: I can leave ANY time. I am the boss of me.

We spent a couple hours chit-chatting and rotating between hot rooms, cold rooms, hot tubs, and a sunny terrace. It was actually… lovely. My friend had also booked us massages to cap it off, and when that time rolled around, I felt ready.

Now, any time I get a massage, I mentally prep myself for the usual comment about how “tight” my shoulders are, like it’s a mystery I haven’t solved. But on this particular day, the masseuse chose violence.

As I lay there breathing steadily, preparing for the welcome pain of deep tissue work, she started digging into my back like she was mining for something. And then, suddenly, mid-dig, I swear I detected frustration when I heard her say “Just relax”

She said it like I was doing it wrong. Like there was a setting I could switch into, and she was patiently waiting for me to find it. Just relax, she kept repeating, as if saying it again might flick some invisible switch.

But here’s the thing: that was me relaxing. The jaw that felt like it was holding back a scream? Relaxed.The shoulders parked just below my ears? Also relaxed. The stomach clenched like I was bracing for impact? Honestly, that’s me on a good day.

I wanted to explain that I’m not broken, I’m just in here somewhere. Still learning how to live in this newer version of a body that’s held too much, too fast.

You can’t see it from the outside, but in the last year, this body has Lost a child. Lost a husband. Lost a mother in law. Lost its damn mind. 

This body has tried to hold up under the kind of grief most people get a lifetime to spread out. I didn’t get that. Mine came like a landslide. One phone call, one diagnosis, one last breath after another.

And now this woman, with her soothing voice and well-meaning hands, is telling me to do something I would absolutely do… if I knew how.

Let’s be honest though. Has “just relax” ever worked? Not in an argument. Not at the gynecologist’s office. Not during a panic attack.

I have that book The Body Keeps the Score sitting on my nightstand like a dare. Just waiting for the moment I’m ready to let it tell me what I already know. Even when I try to forget, my body remembers.

Still, there’s a part of me that believes surely it has to shift. That maybe one day, I’ll stop sleeping with my fists clenched. That I’ll make it through a massage without crying. That I’ll stop flinching when someone asks, “How are you?” like they mean it.

Maybe healing isn’t returning to the way things were. Maybe it’s becoming something new. A version of softness that knows exactly how hard life can be, and lies down anyway.

So I guess the point is that I showed up. I got the massage. I stayed on the table. I didn’t run. I didn’t snap at the masseuse.

And for now, that’s doing my best version of “relaxed”. 

But seriously, has saying “Just relax” ever worked?