Shortly after I graduated from Massage Therapy school in the 90s, I went into an advanced course in Myofascial Massage Therapy. This is a structural modality, related to Rolfing, which is the kind of bodywork that is supposed to change your life. It’s “intense” (aka painful), and so deep that there’s no need to remove clothing or use oil, because what’s a thin layer of fabric when you’re already working through eight layers of tissue? Through a series of treatments, each aimed at a particular region of the body, Myofascial releases old postural habits you didn’t know you had, and frees you to be as tall and vibrant as you never knew you could be. You complete the series, fix all your imbalances, and go out into the world as a new person. Coming out of the Myofascial course, I was eager to change the world, one body at a time.
But the jobs available didn’t call for Myofascial massage. Most clients wanted a full-body treatment. They wanted to take off their clothes and relax in a dim room. They didn’t want to give up the massage experience they loved for something I probably didn’t explain adequately. Why didn’t these people want to change their lives? Why didn’t they want to free themselves of all their physical and emotional baggage? Not wanting to give up my Myofascial emphasis, I found ways to incorporate some of the principles and techniques into a full-body treatment. It wasn’t exactly what my advanced training had taught me to do, but clients liked it and returned. Wellness massage paid the bills.
Then one day I ran into my friend Jill Coyne at a party. She had recently completed the basic Massage Therapy course at CSMT that I had taken a few years earlier. She was interested in structural therapy, though, like I had been. She asked me about various jobs I’d had, and at the end of every line of inquiry she posed the same question: “Is it mostly wellness massage?”
Well, yes. That was what I was doing. And I didn’t really know why, except that it was what people wanted, what they came to the table for. Sometimes people just need to be touched. Sometimes they need a quiet place to be, so they can find the quiet in themselves. Life can be brutal on the body, and even when it isn’t, we are living in the body every day. Why not make relaxing and enjoying the body a regular part of life?
Jill went on to Rolfing school, and I’m sure she is doing fabulous work in that field. I would love it if I lived close enough to her to partake of her services.
Me, I’m still doing mostly wellness massage. And this week I’ve been working on a resume. I found this great site that suggests ways to describe myself as a massage therapist, using all the words that employers like to hear. But none of those descriptions sounds like me. What do I do? Who am I, as a massage therapist? I have advanced training in Myofascial, and some in energy healing, and bits of this and that find their way into the treatments I give. It doesn’t sound very distinguished.
But here’s what I’ve learned. Sometimes a person needs life-changing, intense, structural change, but sometimes what a person needs is some affirmation and respite, some peace and nurturing touch as they show up and live each day, every day. Most of the important things we do are never completed; we spiral through them, and come back from a different direction. Caring for the body is the same. Sometimes what people need is mostly wellness.
Rachel Creager Ireland, LMT 