I tried reiki to get over a break up. It kind of surprised me when it worked.

• Reiki involves directing energy through the body promoting relaxation and stress relief.
• I had the opportunity to participate in a one-hour session with a friend's regular practitioner.
• While I went into the session with no expectations, I found the work to be incredibly healing.

I was convinced quite easily to experience reiki by a friend whose practitioner in Beijing was coming to visit our city. I did not have a particular goal in mind, at least consciously. A few months into a new relationship, still recovering from my first queer heartbreak and a chaotic string of dating, I knew some self-reflection was overdue. 

To prepare for the session on a Saturday morning, I was instructed to avoid meat and alcohol for two days prior. When I entered the hotel room, the Reiki practitioner, Iris, greeted me with tea. I sat awkwardly next to the Reiki table, my skin extremely warm as I faced the stranger who would soon have her hands over my body. 

Iris asked me a few questions about myself and my expectations: she informed me that throughout the session, she would put her hands on "energy centers," including my head, chest, stomach, and knees, in order to "restore, repair, release, and heal." She was gentle and unintimidating and encouraged me to receive the energy therapy with an open mind — toward the process and toward myself.

I felt out of place in a way I don't often feel. Quiet music started to play, and Iris guided me to lie face up on the table.

I wanted to get my money's worth so I went with it

As she pressed into my temple, shoulders, wrists, and down to my feet, I noticed her hands were warm, even as they hovered above me; I'm certain she did this on purpose. Determined to get my money's worth, I let the warmth rush through me and forced my mind to be still. 

Bright pinks and blues flashed across my eyelids, then purples and greens. Iris provoked me with gentle questions that I can't remember once I leave the table. 

Images appeared immediately. I saw family members surrounded by resentment, the pain we all experience in some form and yet don't immediately recognize in others; hurt we ignore, as it isolates us into adulthood. I tried to swallow it, but Iris pulled it from my chest. At that moment, I was incapable of grieving for my younger self without also feeling gratitude to those who raised me for doing the best they could. 

As we moved away from my family, I immediately saw the face of my ex; I felt anger, and guilt for the anger and anger for the guilt. Iris asked me to concentrate on times of joy in the relationship. The anger and guilt dissipated, and past images cycled as Iris asked me questions I couldn't answer right away. 

Iris decisively asked me to send a blessing, a final message. Once the session is through, these would be the only exact words I remember: "Now, you are speaking to their soul." 

And I did. 

For some reason, what I said was kind. Anger I did not know I still held was drained from my body, and did not return. I hadn't said anything aloud, but Iris told me the blessing would be received now. It felt as if my rib cage bent in, retracted then expanded: as if someone were sitting on my chest and suddenly decided they could find a different spot. 

I felt lighter

Tears rolled into my ears; it was uncomfortable, at least enough to be suddenly distracting. Iris pulled her hands back to hover over my body for some time, and my mind went still. 

The hour was over. 

I sat up, and she assured me, "The energy will be with you for a few days. You should do something with it." 

She asked if I needed anything before we debriefed; I suddenly really needed to pee. She laughed and assured me this is very common. "It's the energy moving through you." 

I walked aimlessly for a few miles through neighborhoods I'd never seen before. I tried to record what I'd experienced, read about it, and make sense of it all. My chest felt light. I identified unfamiliar feelings of optimism and realized that this calm is new — and hopefully here to stay.