The Glitch, The Grind, and The Great Mustard Purge
Today was a biological train wreck that somehow pivoted into a massive win.
The rhythm was off from the jump. When the anchor of a therapy session gets pulled—thanks to a therapist’s sick day—the entire day’s code gets corrupted. I traded a mental breakthrough for an extra hour of sleep, and the universe punished the audacity. My internal clock didn’t just drift; it flatlined. I missed an appointment. For anyone tracking my stats, that’s a fatal error. I don’t “oops.” I show up.
The penance? A receptionist who sounded like she’d swapped her soul for a dial tone. Calling that office felt like shouting into a void lined with sandpaper. I apologized to a brick wall and hung up with that heavy, “missed-appointment guilt” clinging to me all damn day.
The Power Move
But by midday, the momentum shifted. I spent the early afternoon locking in a game-changer: I officially locked in a partnership with Ellie MD through one of my wellness partners.
No more flirting with the idea—I’ve cleared the compliance hurdles, finished the onboarding gauntlet, and the engine is already roaring. I haven’t even fully stepped through the door and I’ve got two clients under me with two more circling the orbit.
Then came the real fuel: My son was recently cleared by his provider to start B12 injections. He’s been watching me stay consistent with my own wellness routine, including my weekly NAD+ injections, and now he’s getting his own skin in the game. Watching his curiosity turn into a tangible plan for his health? That’s the kind of win a missed appointment can’t touch.
The Shift to the Healing Room
With that win in my pocket, I headed to work at 3:00 PM. No rush, no noise—just the quiet focus of the massage room. That’s where the real work happens. My first client at 3:00 kicked off a session that finally brought some much-needed gravity back to a day that had spent the morning floating in chaos.
The Great Dijon Debate
The day ended with a kitchen-floor showdown. I walk through the door, and suddenly Evan grabs the stack of cardboard that’s been sitting there for five days—the same cardboard I’ve been asking him for five days to take down—and bolts for the door like he’s on a timed mission.
I cut through the noise: “I need a wingman for this salad. You’re on sauce duty.” I beam him the recipe for our Mediterranean, anti-inflammatory dinner. But then, the gears grind to a halt over two bottles of Dijon mustard.
He pulls them from the fridge like they’re unexploded ordnance. One expired in January. To a kid who’s survived the trenches of food poisoning, it’s a biological hazard. We enter a five-second temporal loop of “It’s fine” vs. “It’s poison.”
I felt the day’s lingering exhaustion and I folded. The bottles hit the bin. We didn’t have any fresh backup, so the mustard was officially cut from the script. So we ditched the mustard, whisked a modified dressing, and built a Mediterranean masterpiece anyway.
The verdict? Absolutely bomb.
It’s the ultimate irony: the day started with a total lack of balance and ended with the cleanest meal on the planet. From the Ellie MD expansion to the B12 clearance, the momentum is officially back on the rails.
Not bad for a day that started as a total system glitch.
If your nervous system needs a place to exhale, I offer trauma-informed massage, head spa treatments, and holistic skin care at 888 Spa in Apple Valley, Minnesota
