Ever since college my hands almost always go numb when I run for more than fifteen minutes. It’s not bad enough to make me stop, but–you know–it’s annoying. It’s like whenever your legs fall asleep while you’re sitting on the toilet. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Anyway, I’m a curious person–or as my therapist recently said, a nosy Ned–so for the last fifteen years I’ve asked probably a dozen chiropractors, massage therapists, and other body workers, “What’s up with my tingly fingers?” The answer? Crickets.

Every. Single. Time.

So this morning I had a massage from my friend Gena, and while she was working on my chest and arms, I casually mentioned the sometimes-numbness in my arms. “That makes sense,” she said. “Your neck muscles are tight, and there’s a nerve underneath them that runs down your arm. Plus, when you run, you bend your elbows, and that plays a part too.” Genius.

Now was that so hard?

I love how you can spend fifteen years looking for an answer to a problem, and then–really without warning–one just falls out of somebody’s mouth–like, no big deal. And by that I mean, I don’t really love that. I mean, I love that I have an answer now, but I don’t love the fact that life is pretty much like being dropped in the middle of board game, never being kindly informed of the rules, and somehow being expected to win. Whether it’s trying to heal an impossible problem or trying to figure yourself–let alone anyone else–out, life is not like an infomercial–three easy steps. Rather, it seems most successes are hard-won and long waited for. Honestly, I have a real problem with this setup. I’m putting it on my list of “things I think could be done differently,” in the event God ever asks for my good opinion.

I realize it could be a while before this happens.

Tonight in improv class we played a game called Sound Effects, which involves two people providing dialogue and gestures and two other people providing noises. Ideally, all four people are sort of working together, even though two of them are off stage. Maybe the scene is a battlefield, and one person covers his head like a big explosion has gone off, but the person making noises utters a real soft, “Dink.” Then the person on stage has to respond appropriately and change directions.

Honestly, I can’t tell you how difficult this class is turning out to be, mostly for the simple reason that I don’t always like to work with others. I’m a control freak. There, I said it. You know, when you work in a group, you sort of have to trust that the other person is going to do their part. Plus, you have to do yours. Sometimes that happens–sometimes it doesn’t. It’s like, sometimes you can ask a question and get an answer, and sometimes you’re just met with a blank stare. It’s just the way life is.

I hate that. (One more for the list.)

Tonight my emotions got the best of me, and I went out for chocolate cake. “You know what,” I told the waitress, “I’m gonna need some ice cream with that too.” Ugh. It was delicious. I feel fat now, but I paid good money for the elastic waistband in these shorts I’m wearing, so I guess it’s like finally getting a return on my investment. My friend Marla says, “Feelings only last a few minutes unless you feed them,” but I think she meant that in a metaphorical sense, and not in a literal–feed your feelings chocolate cake–sense. Because feeding my emotions tonight actually seemed to shut them up for a while.

When I got home tonight, I lay (and yes, that’s correct grammar) on the futon, read a Sherlock Holmes novel, and stretched. For a short while I did a yoga pose called Half Hero (pictured above), which is an accurate description of what I feel like on a day-to-day basis. Not quite Full Hero status. Full Hero involves sitting on your shins with your feet folded under, then reclining on your back. It’s basically a quad stretch, and if your quads are tight (like mine are), it hurts like hell and is a good way to start a conversation (and by that I mean an argument) with your knees. Well, Half Hero is just one leg at a time, and that’s all I can currently muster without completely wanting to jump out of my skin.

Gena told me today that everything on my right side is tight. This wasn’t a newsflash to me, but she said it was a wonder I wasn’t walking in circles. When I talked about always getting headaches on my right side, she said that pain shows up in our weakest spot. So tonight I’ve been thinking that emotionally, my weak spot is trusting other people. That’s why I have trouble relaxing on a massage table. That’s why I get nervous in group projects. There are plenty of psychological reasons for this, and I’m sure the case could be made that those reasons have made me the independent fella I am today. (Americans love independence!) BUT, the truth is that no one gets through life alone, and no one person has all the answers. That’s why we have to keep asking for help, trusting that one day someone will have the solution we’re looking for. We–I–have to be willing to work together. Sure, like stretching a tight muscle, it might be uncomfortable at first, but one day–maybe when you lease expect it–things relax, the pain subsides, and healing seems possible.