Me time: sometimes it's a necessity

I was in agony. Every movement hurt. I parked the car, closed my eyes, took a deep breath and looked up.

It was then that I noticed a massage centre had just opened not far from my house. I slowly removed myself from my seat and walked to the door. I saw the 'Closed' sign but I didn't care. I knocked anyway.

The lady saw me, saw my baby bump and the way I was moving and booked me in for that afternoon.

"I need to splurge and do this for myself," I said, half to myself, feeling guilty at the cost and the time. It felt indulgent.

She shook her head. "It's not a luxury; it's a necessity. You have to take care of yourself."

Over the next few months, I saw her every week. Each treatment was painful, but helped me move better for the rest of the week. She gave me exercises and stretches, too, that helped make it more bearable. I'm not sure how I would have got through the pregnancy without her help.

Fast forward more than two and a half years. Two years of making every minute of every day about giving, focusing on someone else before me.

In the depths of my darkness, the phone beeped. A message from a Shiatsu therapist who had worked at the massage centre (now closed), and who I had seen a couple of times.

I rang her straight away. Now, I see her every few weeks.

It is an hour of heaven.

A time to have someone ask me: "How are you?" and really listen to my answer. Someone to help me find ways to make things better - physically, emotionally and nutritionally.

Still, I feel indulgent sometimes. Guilty. Then I hear that first voice in my head: "It's a necessity".

She's right. And I return to my family happy, relaxed and rejuvenated. Healthy.

One hour a month. It's not much, but it's a dozen times a year that I'm putting myself first. It can make all the difference.