Seven Dragons

Soon after I met her last summer, the acupuncturist suggested a treatment called “The Seven Dragons,” which could release things I hold inside. I wasn’t ready then. Today, I was ready.

She reminded me that the treatment would release emotions. Some people experience that right on the table, but others are more private and process it later. She figured me for a process-it-later patient.* I wasn’t sure what to make of what I was feeling. For the first half of the treatment, with the needles in my back, I felt a rising heartrate and the now-familiar symptoms of mild panic. Then I felt a rush from my chest to my head. But maybe that’s because my head was lower than the rest of my body and I simply got a head rush? I’ve no clue what I’m doing in acupuncture. For the second half, with needles on my front, I felt many positive thoughts coming my way. I felt that pillar that I sometimes feel in yoga, rising up. Maybe that’s what I’ve been holding onto? My own strength? I dunno.

I don’t really believe in acupuncture, or, at least, I don’t fully understand it, but these treatments are certainly doing something, and I trust the doctor in her diagnosis and treatment. There’s something hard and dark in me. No amount of therapy or kayaking or fresh food or laughter has dislodged it.  this treatment seemed worth a shot.

I later googled 7 dragons treatment and found its roots to be in demonic possession. Um. Woah. Doctor? Okay, okay, first of all, if I don’t believe in acupuncture, then I don’t believe in its ancient heritage of possession. And maybe all this talk of possession can be updated to talk about the psychological baggage we harbor. I’m gonna go with that. The acupuncturist is a doctor. I don’t think she’s chasing down demons. She said that the treatment on the back addressed external trauma. The front worked on internal coping with these.  I guess the external actions are the demons, and the internal are my own dragons.

She advised that I clear out the kids so that I could process in peace. I was unable to get rid of the kids, so I just bought a lot of food so they steer clear of me, as needed. I’ve been taking it easy today to wait for the flood of emotions. I spent some time in the office. I drove daughter to a birthday party out in the country. I wasn’t tired, I wasn’t emotional. I admired the pretty country lanes and lovely houses and pieces of land.

In the afternoon, I sank into a nap that lasted three hours. Wow. Was that from the procedure? I drank a lot of water, just in case it was mere dehydration. I treated myself to a case of La Croix and sipped on the bubble water as I picked up daughter. I found a way to get to the party destination–half an hour out in the country–taking all back roads. Daughter is prone to carsickness, so we took the main road back, but I was quietly chuffed at my accomplishment and–hey–I spend a lot of time alone. Exploring country roads is Something To Do, and it was awfully pretty.

I’m waiting for nighttime, wondering if any “processing” will happen. With any luck, I’ll just crash again and get a solid night’s rest. The kids are surprised that I’m utterly calm and pleasant today. As soon as the teenager whined about being hungry (again!**), I invoked the Seven Dragons, suggesting that if he provoked me instead of just raiding the cupboards, I’d Release the Kraken! So now I sit, watching the night fall, wondering if the demons will out, while the kids are on best behavior, lest they awake the Dragon Mother.


*Readers may be surprised to hear of my privacy, but you are privy to candor and information that I don’t share much face-to-face. Even when talking about tough stuff with this doctor, I’m pretty calm and even make jokes. She knows I’m holding back quite a bit.

**This teenager has grown three shoe sizes in the last year, and probably 4 inches in just the past few months. He’s not kidding, he’s hungry.

2 thoughts on “Seven Dragons

  1. When I was seven months pregnant with Natalie, the pain in my back was getting unbearable. I was concerned because my back had “gone out” twice after Philip was born (leaving me unable to walk without a walker for four weeks, each time), and the pain was in the same place. Since I was having her born at home, I was getting worried. I saw an acupuncturist on a recommendation; he put needles in my ear, and I thought, yeah, right.

    That was on Friday. On Sunday, the pain was gone. For good.

    Thing is, this man had a gift. He was an MD (NYU Med School), a homeopath and an acupuncturist who studied in China. I think part of the thing with practices like homeopathy and acupuncture is that the person who’s administering it really matters. I mean, it always “matters,” but generally speaking, if you have an infection and a doctor gives you an antibiotic, it’ll probably work. I’ve seen other homeopaths, for instance, without any success.

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