This is my journal entry from September 12, 2025, part of my daily autobiography The Kind Divorce — my real, unedited days, published in order.
The fifth day of massage school began with our second anatomy and physiology lesson, where we explored the shoulder girdle, learned directional terms like superior and inferior, and studied how the humerus connects into the shoulder joint. Lunch was again with some classmates, and I enjoyed the conversation. I noticed a classmate sitting alone at a distant table and wondered whether my company would be appreciated there instead. A classmate suggested it looked like she wanted some solitude, so I sat where I had the day before. We all talked about who might eventually drop out of the program. I hope no one does because I genuinely like everyone. At the same time, I can see how it might be difficult for one classmate. He is here in Florida away from his wife and child, and he misses them deeply. He said he may not see them until Christmas, and I could understand how hard that would be. In fourteen and a half years with my ex-wife, I have never been away from her longer than eleven days. I could not imagine choosing to miss that much time with my family, even for school. A classmate also missed class today, and I said she seemed at risk of dropping out after already being late or missing a day twice in the first week. I hope she makes it because she brings a gentle loving mom presence to her touch that will be great for massage.
After lunch came one of the most exciting parts of the week: receiving our rookie massages from the juniors and seniors. These students had anywhere from two to six months more experience than us. We picked our tables without knowing who would be assigned to work on us. I chose one covered with a floral blanket. Many of my classmates giggled nervously while trying to undress under the sheets, which had us all laughing. Soon, the juniors and seniors entered, and I was paired with a woman named a student ahead of me in massage school.
A student ahead of me in massage school faced a challenge from the start, knowing I have received between five and six hundred massages. I made a conscious decision to communicate clearly with her while also being careful not to hurt her feelings. At one point, during the face massage, she worked too close to my eyes, and I asked her to stop that. Later she began incorporating stretches. After she rotated my arms and started stretching my legs, I requested that she stop those as well. I practice enough yoga that I prefer to manage all stretching myself. Stretching on the massage table feels like wasted time when I could be receiving touch, and I’ve had therapists take stretches too far in the past, causing minor injuries. I felt grateful to be confident enough to voice my preferences, even at the risk of her being offended.
In the group debrief afterward, I complimented a student ahead of me in massage school for using several strokes I had never experienced before, which is rare given how many therapists I’ve worked with. It was especially impressive considering she has only been in school a few months. I also encouraged my classmates to advocate for themselves during massages. Most classmates had enjoyed the stretches, and I explained why I hadn’t. The point, I told them, is not whether a client wants stretching or not, but that every client feels empowered to communicate their needs. It isn’t personal—it’s simply about knowing your own body.
On the drive to and from school today, I dictated the sixth and seventh parts of my dating book, totaling two and a half more hours of material. That brings me past sixty thousand words of raw dictation, which should cut down to around forty or fifty thousand once I refine it in ChatGPT. By the time I finished, I felt confident I had enough material for the book.
Later in the day I talked briefly with my sponsor, picked up the kids, and spent a little time at home before heading out to hot yoga. I hadn’t done a hot class in a while, and the intensity caught up with me quickly. My heart rate rose close to its maximum just moving through a standard sequence of poses in the heat. The sweat combined with massage oil made an interesting and messy mix on my towel covering my yoga mat. Fortunately, the girl next to me was so pretty that I got euphoric just being next to her. Afterward, I went home, showered, and went to my AA meeting.
These days, nearly every time I share in a meeting, I talk about how central massage has been to my sobriety. Early on, my nervous system was so agitated and locked in fight-or-flight that I couldn’t relax enough to take in new information. I couldn’t truly hear the message of AA or engage in the steps in that state of body and mind. Getting massages gave me my first taste of real relaxation, which cleared my mind enough to see the value in getting a sponsor, reading the Big Book, and attending more meetings. That combination was what allowed me to work the steps and make profound changes in my life. Without massage, I may not have had the clarity to start.
Because of that, I’m considering a requirement for my future sponsees: if someone wants me as their sponsor, they need to commit to getting massages. That may sound unusual, but AA is flexible enough for each sponsor to work in their own way. If a person isn’t willing to try massage to help themselves relax and become more receptive, then they can choose another sponsor. For me, it’s that important.
Doctor
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