“Don’t let go of your rail.” I encouraged last week during a counseling session, to a person who has been enduring emotional abuse for the last 10 years. They have been working so hard on boundaries and I am so proud. As my day wound down, the memories and years I have been giving that phrase to brave clients played like a soundtrack in my head. It was no surprise to me that a smile pulled at my lips and my brain found the very first time I myself was told the exact same thing….

I was in my 20’s when I began the self care practice of getting deep tissue massages. I had/have a complicated relationship with this body, as I believe we all do. I was a young woman, introverted and not yet aware of how to care of these muscles who endure so much. Cerebral Palsy was confusing by itself, but learning how to care for and love a body that was hard for me to trust was…well, let’s just say that I am still and probably will always be learning about that in some ways. I am both much further than I was and not yet where I want to be.

I can’t remember how I came upon Suzy. It took many months, but my body and my heart would eventually trust this massage therapist who is kind and knowledgeable. She was for quite some time, a very safe person to open up to while she helped me learn what I needed with this disability AND this body. Suzy became more than my massage therapist, she was a teacher in many ways, as well as a friend, insightful and caring. While she was loosening my muscles, she also helped loosen my fears, insecurities and walls. 

During one such appointment, I lay on a massage table while Suzy rolled my calf muscles, a vulnerability it had taken me a long time to brave…she would press so hard on the bottoms of my feet, which to me, is heavenly! Much of my spasticity originates in my feet, I have learned. She was a bit in awe that I wasn’t screaming in pain as she worked hard to get my muscles to release some of the tension that it does not realize it is gripping so tightly.

“I have made burly quarterbacks cry with much less pressure than this.” She quipped as I lay facedown on her massage table. I remember feeling simultaneously sad for said quarterback AND feeling very strong in that moment. Later I would say to myself, “how badass am I, if football players cry about this and I DON’T!”

That day, I was telling her about a concert I had attended a few nights before with a friend. The arena near our home is big and crowds have always been anxiety-provoking because of my balance. I tense up, fear getting bumped, falling and/or getting trampled. I explained how when I go down a set of stairs, I hold the rail tightly to keep myself upright and as safe as possible.

Inevitably though, someone will come up the stairs, (against the down-going flow) in the same spot that I am trying to go down, both of us holding tight to that rail. At that time, I firmly believed that I was required to get out of someone’s way if they came up to me that way. I erroneously believed that I was doing the better thing by letting go so they could pass, even though I would tense up and get very scared on that step until I could grab ahold again, clinging tighter still with a now clanging heartbeat. Perhaps this was VERY ingrained, “put others before yourself,” or people-pleasing because I thought that I had to be extra nice to everyone to make up for needing extra help sometimes. Either way, as I described it to Suzy, her eyes grew wide.

“You know that is not safe for you, right?” She had a stare that seemed to go right through me. And to be honest with you, I had never considered that. Now was my turn to blink and replay the events from a few nights before, including how I had handled those arena stairs.

“Huh…” I murmured, wondering for the first time in my life why I was indeed, getting out of someone else’s way when they were going the wrong direction and when it was more than necessary for me to hold on….

“Don’t you NEED the rail?” She asked, gently, working hard on my feet and toes, which I was noticing had become tighter and more contracted as she asked her questions.

Out of nowhere, tears filled my eyes and my nose filled up in mere seconds. I did. I could not get down any flight of stairs without that assistance.

A surprising silent wail threatened to rise from the toes that were painfully clinching to keep it deep down. She must have known…but she silently let me hold that wail, a soundless sob that shook my whole body. It was THEN, that I began to understand AND acknowledge how terrifying it was, to try to move and get out of someone’s way on those steps as I felt obligated to let go of those railings….

THAT was the day that I truly began to understand the connection between emotions and bodies. My own body was a living, moving example, (which to my chagrin at this moment,) that I could not control.

Suzy gently finished kneading the muscles in my feet, then walked softly to touch my shoulder. I was grateful to be laying facedown; snot running out of my nose. At least I didn’t have to look in her kind eyes. If I had, the sob would’ve burst forth and I undoubtedly would’ve been more undone…

“It’s ok for you to hold on and make them move,” she said and this was an entirely new revelation to me.

“It is???” I asked, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.

“Absolutely! You didn’t know that either, did you? ” She asked gently. Now she was surprised.

“I guess not,” I said. “I just never wanted to make things hard for anyone else.”

Suzy gave me an intense look that I could feel rather than see, then silently swept out the room so I could get dressed. When I came out a few minutes later, I walked to the desk. She surprised me again when she gave me a hug, telling me softly, “You don’t make things harder for anyone. Don’t let go of your rail. You have every right to need it and hold on.” Tears filled my eyes again, the tears of being seen, known and cared for. I thanked her and pondered railings, staircases and acceptance for many days following that massage.

A few weeks after that massage, I stood at the top of the stairs somewhere, pausing before I told my feet to step down, then another and another.

Suddenly, about 1/3 of the way down, a man darted up in the wrong direction and was face-to-face with me at that railing. My heart raced, I began to gear up to let go, but the sound of Suzy’s voice in my head gave me a second to pause. “Don’t let go of your railing…”

I held tight, tried to reassure myself that I was “not inconveniencing anyone,” and waited.

The man in front of me looked around quickly, then moved around me with ease.

I nearly burst into tears…change was happening….I had gotten out of the way for so many, so many times, that this change was a relief and in those early days of changing my own beliefs, felt both exhilarating and exhausting.

It has been nearly 25 years since that conversation with Suzy. Yet, as I write, I can remember every moment, how God himself began working in my head, heart and muscles because of those moments. Over the course of that time, I have held the rail SO many times. In fact, I don’t think I have let go since. That doesn’t mean is always easy to put myself first.

Just a few days ago, I began descending the stairs of a local high school after a dizzying week of swim meets, birthday (for my newly adult daughter) and all of life in between. I was tired, happy and as always, a bit awestruck at my teens’ (and their friends) incredible physical abilities in the pool.

As I gripped the railing and began instructing my leg muscles, (“step down, pause, gather your balance. Ok, step again…pause, repeat…”) a little girl darted up the stairs, running so fast right into my projected path. My heart began hammering and my inner dialogue changed gears, “hold on, just wait. Stop, you don’t have to move.” I held too tight, so tight my fingers throbbed, but Suzy’s voice came back even though I have not seen her in MANY years: “Don’t let go of your railing.”

Suzy’s voice, presence and how God used her in that one day: the last five-ten minutes of a massage has multiplied more times than I can count. “Don’t let go of your rail,” has become such a normal phrase for me personally, and also professionally.

Sometimes, “don’t let go of your rail” applies to family dynamics, boundaries, self worth and communication. Other times it applies to stating our needs, wants and emotions. Still others, “hold on to rail” can become a symbol for an anchor in a storm, grief, major life change or unexpected illness. There have been countless times where I have drawn on this phrase as a metaphor or physical reminder.

Personally, it is a whispered phrase of safety and self worth when someone stares a bit too long; a reminder to when my former soundtracks begin to blare: “I am a burden” “People are staring.” It is a phrase of comfort when I hear comments like, “what’s wrong with her feet, mom?” overheard in a store. At 50, all of these bother me less and less often than when I was younger, but occasionally, we ALL need the reminder, don’t we? The reminder to take care of ourselves, to let others’ opinions float away, to claim our own space, to hold tight to Him who IS the very best stability and anchor. To lean on the those who are dependable, even when we feel we’re going to fall…

Do you have a phrase, a mantra or reminder that you say to yourself when things feel hard? Maybe it is a role model that you emulate, one who feels placed in your path or vision for such a time as this…

Along with phrases and nearly every famous Mr. Rogers quote, there are many who inspire me, too many to name or count. One is Alecia Beth Moore Hart. Maybe you know her too, better by the name, Pink. Her journey is well-documented, from rough and badass, loud and rebellious to awe-inspiring performer and everything in between. She is an advocate for therapy, doing our own work, both individually and and family. Pink is unapologetic, she swears, she loves, she accepts and she bites back at fans who criticize and belittle. She is driven, seemingly fearless and athletic. AND she is a mama, wife and musician. She is a role-model in “holding her rail.”

I began following her music after seeing her perform an aerial silk routine on the Grammy awards in 2010 which left me completely thunderstruck. Her physical abilities and performance left me jealous and mesmerized. Since, I have listened to her music, followed her career and at times smiled at her attitude while turning the music down in the car so the kids wouldn’t pick up on ALL the words. Attending one of her shows is certainly on my bucket list. Recently, she did an interview on 60 minutes.

“These muscles that scare people? These muscles are my power…I eat well to go far, fast and hard.” -Pink

I sat watching, trying to understand how anyone could be scared of her muscles! Then I thought, “that is how you hold your rail….”

I had been scared of my own muscles, to trust and depend on them. I But as I listened to Pink, I resonated with this quote, negative beliefs and power in and throughout the journey. These muscles ARE my power…

What had begun for me with Suzy was God-breathed, his own reminder of being with me. He used Suzy; through that one conversation, she showed me how to reclaim my power AND hold my rail. I hold on, I show up for myself and I do my work to go far, especially with CP.

Today, I encourage and challenge you to “hold your own rail,” own your presence and look to the one who will never leave you to go it alone. Maybe it IS through hard interactions this holiday season, losses or grief that threatens to swallow you. Maybe it is finally allowing yourself to see your own good, hold your own needs or share your truth. Perhaps holding your rail is seeing the Savior with fresh eyes this Christmas.

I am thankful for every bit of it, even the scary moments when I let go and wasn’t sure why. That makes the times I’ve held on and helped others hold on also, that much sweeter. I thankful for the big and small encounters, the role models (some of whom we may never physically met) and the growth and confidence God bestows over the course of time. I am thankful for Suzy, Pink and those who I get to walk with. I pray you are kind to yourself, giving grace and mercy, especially to yourself. And I pray that you can hold on to your rail, because it is so worth it.

I wish you both a Blessed Christmas and a brave New Year

Hebrews 13:5

Both/And