Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Re-believing

I have a degree in journalism. I spent 20 years as a professional writer before I became a massage therapist. I continue to write professionally, even as a massage therapist.

Yet, every time I sit down in front of a blank page or screen, I have to go looking for that place inside of me that contains my writer-ness. I have to choose to believe, once again, that I can write and write well enough to justify claiming people's reading time.

After more than 30 years, I still have to do that virtually every time I sit down to write.

I've spent a few hours this afternoon working on the outline for my business book. I have written business columns for 5 years. I taught business practices for 4 years. I still have all that material. Yet, when I opened a blank document called "outline", I had a moment or three of wondering if I had any idea what I was doing! (4 pages of outline later, I'm feeling much better about that.)

It happens with massage sometimes too. I've been rubbing the naked people for 10 years. Yet there are days I would walk into the massage room and think "What the heck am I doing here? What the heck do I know???".

There's a particular place inside of me, apparently, where my professionalism lives (I think it's somewhere near the 3rd chakra). The connection to that place can, apparently, be lost, misplaced, or at least overlooked for a while. The connection, apparently, needs to be re-established from time to time, maybe especially since the "success" of my work is so....subjective. Did you like it or not? That's pretty subjective.

But today I found my way to my Professionalism Place, my 3rd chakra, my whatever. Hope I can find it again tomorrow.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

owowowowOW! Was It Good For You?

I've been getting my bodywork at The Lightworkers Cottage in New Farm, a close-in suburb. Specifically, I've been going to Nicholas Bestevaar, a Pyschosomatic Therapy practitioner.

We all know that the body-language we use around stress -- pain in the neck, monkey on my back, pain in the butt, etc. -- can have literal physical manifiestations. At its simplest, psychosomatic therapy takes that to the next level. Combining professional manual palpation skills with energetic sensitivity, these therapists find places of congestion and tune into the emotional/psychological/spiritual issues that might also be associated.

It hasn't been "counseling" as such. Nick has simply asked me to reflect on the congestion, pain, tightness, restrictions he's encountering. He talks to me about what's been going on with me. He reflects on life issues to may manifest in ways similar to what he's finding. He doesn't inform me that x/y/z is clearly going on and I obviously need to do 1, 2, 3.

He just observes and reflects and encourages me to be open to what might be good for me at that point, all the while using his hands in traditional therapeutic massage kinda ways.

I just got back from a 3-week trip back home to DC. It was a trying visit emotionally and physically. I landed back in Brisbane physically beat (thank you American Airlines!) and emotionally drained. My neck and shoulders have been tight though not painful. My feet were sore and I was experierincing some mild but stubborn jet-lag-related edema in my lower legs

Nick started me prone and began working on my feet and legs. Which turned out to be in worse shape than I even imagined! Holy crap.

Nick worked pretty deeply. His manual techniques were a combo of deep tissue, myofascial release and/or structural alignment, and some stretching. And it hurt. A LOT. A whole lot. I almost kicked him in the chest once -- by accident! I swear! -- in reflexive response to a tender spot he found.

Oh dear GOD it hurt.

While I was experiencing this work (when I had spare brain cells from trying to remember to breathe), I reflected on the role of pain in bodywork. I wondered if I would have been willing to induce this much pain, even if I was convinced it was going to be productive.

I took one of Ben Benjamin's Orthopedic Massage workshops a few years ago. One of the things that hung me up was that the treatment required being willing to do something that the client would experience as painful. My instinct to lighten up, back out, or stop when I got to the point of pain was practically overwhelming.

I always talk to my clients about the difference between "productive" and "non-productive" pain. I have always told the client that they need to let me know if we cross the line from productive to un-productive pain. Even when they give me permission to go deeper into "productive" pain, I find myself very reluctant.

Some of it may be a simple human urge not to hurt someone.

Some of it may be a deeper unwillingness to be the "bad guy" who causes pain, wanting my clients to only have happy associations with me.

Maybe it's a reaction to that over-done 80s mantra "no pain, no gain". How many clients have we all seen who've gone too far in their own body-management efforts, presuming the more it hurts the better it is for them?

Maybe I'm not confident in my ability to know when "enough" becomes "too much".

Of course, I've also met too many people who presume that I'm not doing enough if they aren't hurting. They only know effectiveness through pain. And there are MTs out there who really don't know you can be effective short of pain.

So, was Nicholas being insensitive to me? Was he being clumsy or ham-fisted? My instinct says "no". He was moving slowly and attentively. He approached congestion with a variety of approaches and paid a lot of attention to when congestion finally opened up.

Could he have done all of this with less pain? I don't know, honestly. The fascia of my legs was clearly very gummed up. We had only (!) 90 minutes. It worked, though my legs and feet were sore all day (but much better today). It had been a very trying 4 weeks prior to this and 3 weeks since I'd had any bodywork.

It does have me re-visiting my ideas about the place of pain in professional, compassionate, effective bodywork.