Category Archives: Self-Care

Fencing and Using Your Feet in Massage

For a while now, a good bit of my practice has been working on other massage therapists. I don’t say it to brag, it just is. Folks in the biz bring their aches to me, and I do massage therapy.

And, if they are interested, I do a little coaching, too.

It is just part of the business, especially for newbie therapists, to end up working in rooms that are too small and on tables that don’t adjust and all kinds of body-mechanic horrors.

The worst body-mechanic situation I have ever seen is a 5’7” therapist working nights at a casino doing table-side massages. No room for feet, no room for body and the result is long hours spent leaning on clients. Well, it is a job that pays the bills.

With most of my non-therapist clients, they have the options of changing their work-stations and tweaking with their smarty-phone mechanics to eliminate the return of trigger points.

All in all, some massage therapists can’t change up their situations – but they can change how they use their bodies in massages.

With tiny rooms, I recommend putting a foot on the wall to provide the fulcrum for effleurages. If the power of the stroke comes from a foot pressing against the floor or wall it does not come from your serratus, rotator muscles, T3 or worst, C-6.

Feet need to be lined up with the direction of the stroke. If the foot is at 90-degrees, chances are your psoas is the fulcrum and your massage career will be short.

For therapists doing back massages from the head of the table, I recommend inching close to the side of the headrest right up against the table. As a short-armed little wobble-toy myself, I can’t even entertain the thought of standing a foot behind the face-rest. Lucky me. I work the back in quadrants following lymph flow.

The casino? That’s a toughie. I recommended that it be a starter job – good experience and get out of there as soon as the right opportunity comes along. Think of it as just another way of working with your feet.

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Please, Please, Get Regular Bodywork!

My family and I recently stayed at a local resort for a mini-staycation, so of course I took advantage of their spa services. My massage therapist had a nice touch, but as we talked, she admitted to me her hands were hurting and she had not had a massage in years.

Oh heavens. If there has been one constant in my life since I started doing massage in 1995, it is that I get massages. Lots. For a long time once a week, and more most recently alternating with acupuncture.

Time spent getting a massage gives me new energy, insight into my own massage style, and a chance to alter the course of aches and pains that could develop into trouble.

I credit regular bodywork with keeping me sane and holding off the chronic tendonitis that most therapists develop over the years.

My therapist had been massaging for about 10 years, but rarely got massages after graduating from her massage class. Massage is more of a job for her, and with children and a busy schedule, bodywork has never been a priority.

I told her flat out that I couldn’t live like that.

Please, Please, get massages. It is the best medicine, prevention and wellness therapy I know.

Of course she agreed. “We have time to trade here but we don’t,” she told me. “Maybe I get a little work here and there on stuff that hurts, but that is it.”

Ok therapists I will give you the speech I give clients who are too busy: “If you can manage to get your hair done, your nails done and be Mom of the year, you have time to schedule a massage and carry through with a regular appointment.”

Consider this an engraved invitation….

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Vamanos? No, Foldamos!

Being in the stress relief business, I tend to think I can handle anything. Hubris, I know.

Two weeks ago my mother-in-law had retina and cataract surgery and one week ago my spouse had an arterial leg bypass. Other than the Jack Skellington staples, honey is fine. Mum is okay, too.

But I did something bad. Really bad. Here I am, stress expert and I thought I could work last week. We had a daytime nurse aide, and I was on a reduced schedule, sure, but I was frazzled. Come Saturday, I had eight hours of massage scheduled at the office and my butt was dragging on the ground.

It is tough to do massage when you feel tired and un-focused. As a massage therapist, I always want to be at my best. I wasn’t feeling that way.

Saturday, when I got home at 930 p.m., I felt it. Tingling in the legs and arms, and a deep tight sensation in my chest. I had been shallow breathing all day. No, not good.

I got into bed supine, a pillow across my thoracic spine, and did the Buddha/zen breath. Easy in through the nose, filling the area behind the belly button like a balloon, easy breath, mouth open as I sighed my air out.

It took a while, but I felt better and was able to get to sleep.

Human, after all, yes. At least I have a ready-made tool kit to handle those times when I assume I am Mighty Mouse.

Sunday I tackled the mountain of sheets and towels that had built up from the week. After three hours, the man who owns the laundry saw me heading to the door with my huge duffel bags of laundry.

“Vamanos?” he said.

“No vamanos,” I said. “”Foldamos!

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Beyond Basic Self Care

A guest article by Carol Wiley, LMP

As a massage practitioner, you spend your days ministering to the needs of other people. Does anyone really need to tell you to eat healthy food, exercise, practice stress management, and get enough sleep as part of your self care? Let’s go beyond those survival basics to look at ways to live a life of joy and purpose.

Does doing massage give you a sense of joy and purpose? If not, why are you doing massage? The greatest waste on earth is the waste of a life spent on unfulfilling work and activities.

However, it’s important to remember that joy and purpose are not destinations; they are the quality of the life journey. Journeys sometimes have detours through swamps and minefields that lead to marvelous places you could not otherwise have reached. For example, in one of his books, Michael J. Fox writes about how Parkinson’s Disease has been a great gift.

So, here are some self care tips that I believe are most important in creating a life of joy and purpose:

Know what is most important to you. Set priorities and make decisions based on your priorities. Make sure that your priorities and decisions are really yours, and that you are not doing things because someone else (mom, hubby, etc.) thinks you should. Priorities will change as your life changes, so reevaluate as needed.
Learn to say no. Part of setting priorities is saying no to requests that do not fit your priorities. You do not have to explain or apologize. If you want to, you can just say that you have other priorities at the moment. If someone comes back with a snide, “You need to get your priorities straight,” ignore the person.
Surround yourself with supportive, like-minded people. People who do not respect your priorities are not supportive. As much as possible, stay away from people who are negative and try to drag you down or to keep you where you are, when you know you want to be someplace different.

If your life in this moment is not as you want it to be, accept where you are and do what you have to do. But DO NOT focus on the things you don’t want. Rather focus on what you do want and tell your life story of how you want things to be. A few simple tips to get started:

Keep a notebook where you write about the parts of your life that you do like and how grateful you are for them.
Write a vision of how you want your life to be as if it’s already true. If that vision includes a massage practice, write down everything that would be part of your dream massage practice.
When you find yourself focusing on the unwanted, ask yourself, “What do I want?” Tell yourself how much you look forward to having all the things you want.

To help you with this process, I suggest reading supportive books.You’ll find the ones that resonate most with you, but two authors I suggest to get started are Wayne Dyer (particularly Excuses Begone) and Esther and Jerry Hicks (any of the Teachings of Abraham books). The Internet also has a wealth of material; just search on topics that interest you.

About the Author

Carol Wiley, LMP, has been a licensed massage practitioner since 1997 and had an active massage practice for almost 12 years. Visit Carol’s Massage Therapy Information site for lots of information about massage and wellness or get information about the writing services that Carol offers.

A Watery Path

I was raised on Coca-Cola. Straight or on the rocks. Peanuts or sans peanuts. It was THE drink. Why would you want water when you could have a refreshing Coke that fizzed up your nose and made you say “ahhhhhh” with satisfaction? I can still remember putting fifteen cents in the machine, opening the door to a rush of cool air, and hearing the clinking sound of the glass bottle as it left the slot. Then, of course, the pop of the metal cap on the built-in bottle-opener. It was the South, it was hot, and Coke was heaven. I have to say, unashamed, that I miss those sounds, even though I haven’t been a Coke drinker in over a decade.

I quit a long time ago, first to go to Diet Coke, because like all young women, I was dieting. In the bars, I’d have my bourbon with Diet Coke, because as my friend Anne used to say, bourbon and Diet Coke is a Southern woman’s best friend: it has Coke, bourbon, and almost none of those nasty calories! Anyway, I later quit all coke (in my area of the country the generic name for all soft drinks was “coke” just like it’s “pop” in some areas) because it was supposed to be bad for me in various ways.

I still hated water. I found it boring. Only in the last year did I take my water needs seriously. I drink about 80 ounces a day. I carry around a big plastic bottle with me and make sure to drink it all, plus more. While I used to get the water out of the tap, I started filtering with a Britta tank once my doctor told me I was registering high levels of clorine. I like water now, but I spend a lot of time preparing it and making sure I get it. I’m proud of how far I’ve come on the water thing . . . or I was, anyway.

At my studio, we offer a bottle of water to each client after the massage, with a choice of cold or room temperature. In this case, it’s part of the corporate plan, but still a great thing, right? Water, not Coke or sugary sports drinks. Well, no, apparently not. We’ve had several clients decline, one very angrily, on the grounds that all these water bottles are going into landfills and destroying the environment. The angry client declared she was going to write a letter to my boss and complain (That’s good manners, lady. I give you a nice massage, and you bite my head off about something I have absolutely no control over and which has nothing to do with the bodywork and which was MEANT to be a pleasant service to you.)

Let me add at this point that sometimes I just want to put my head down and cry. There is never enough money or time, my feet and shoulder hurt, I need health insurance and care, I’m depressed about everything from the price of fresh vegetables to oil spilling into the Gulf . . . and then I manage to get a handle on one thing (water) which is now all wrong because of the packaging. GOOD GRIEF! I find it ironic that the path between Scylla and Charybdis (the real names for the devil and the deep blue sea) was a watery one.

Sigh. Okay. So no plastic bottles. I reuse my own plastic one, but it drives my boyfriend crazy as he’s certain it’s breeding bacteria in addition to everything else. I guess I could get a metal one and try to remember to fill it three times a day, as I doubt I’ll find one as big as my plastic one. As to the studio, we’re letting corporate know that here in Seattle at least, offering plastic bottles of water is not always popular or appreciated. Our only thought is to go to paper cups, as we obviously can’t send clients home with ceramic mugs. Of course, paper kills trees. I think perhaps a large oak bucket with a dipper outside the door might be an option, but I doubt most people would find that sanitary. It’s too bad, though. Cold water out of a metal dipper tastes as good as Coke out of glass bottle on a hot day. And if you can’t please everyone anyway . . .

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HALT!

Are you in H.A.L.T?

It’s a question I ask myself on days where I’m feeling out of sorts, but still need to be there for my massage clients. “H.A.L.T” stands for Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired. It’s a concept I first learned about in my years sitting in Al-Anon meetings and discussing how to handle difficult problems. The advice goes like this: before you try to address a “difficult” problem, decide whether or not you’re in H.A.L.T. Because if you are hungry, angry, lonely, and/or tired, dealing with that issue first may either solve your problem or make it much less difficult to face.

For a massage therapist, I think hungry may be the worst culprit. We get to moving very quickly indeed and sometimes forget to eat or even put off eating until we are dizzy or irritable. Hunger can even lead to fatigue, and then you have H and T going for you. Little things can swell up to incredible size when you are HT. So go to the fridge where you are hopefully keeping some good quality yogurt or raw almonds and at least get a little protein until you can eat again.

Angry and lonely are a little harder to deal with. But if you realize anger or loneliness is beginning to color your mood deep red or blue, you can take a few minutes to consider the issue. A few minutes spent meditating in your space or even out on a sidewalk pacing might be good for you. At the very least, sketching a plan on what steps to take LATER after your work is complete might give you enough temporary closure to get on with what you need to do… and THEN you can call a friend, write a rant, and/or deal with H again (preferably with chocolate).

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My Happy Little Salt Lamp Sun

What has ended up being one of the best changes ever made to my massage space began almost as a tussle at the last company Christmas party. Instead of a simple gift exchange, we played one of those games where everyone brings a mystery gift priced under $20. Then, everyone pulls a number out of a hat between 1 and whatever number of people are participating. The person with “1” on her slip gets to choose a gift first. Then number “2” can either choose a gift or “steal” the already opened gift. And so it goes on until all the gifts are open and the first person, who has had no chance to steal a gift yet, gets to do so.

To make a long story short, the first gift opened was a salt lamp. And given that I have always admired salt lamps, I promptly stole it when it was my turn … only to have it stolen back from me at the very end, dang it! The winning therapist brought it to her room at work, where it was so tempting and lovely, that in a month, I went out and bought my own. Now we ALL have them, and we love them.

The long, long history of salt as a purifier, both on the skin and in the air, both physically and spiritually, is well-documented. And there is a wealth of information out there on the Internet that describes the benefits of salt lamps in particular. Personally, I have no experience yet of salt lamps having a measurable effect on allergies, asthma, or any other air/breathing condition. But I will say that I have noticed a positive effect on my mood since I started using it, that is as profound as certain types of aromatherapy. I also find my salt lamp extremely comforting in emotional ways. Though it glows, it does not give me the feeling of winter outside, as a fake fire might. Instead, it’s like a happy little sun. (This distinction is important to me when I’m starting to feel that in Seattle it’s always winter, and never Christmas 😉 With just the lamp on, there is plenty of light for me to move around without tripping over objects, and yet not enought light to disturb the clients’ relaxation. In fact, many of my clients have commented on how much they like my salt lamp, though they add that they sometimes “don’t know why.”

If you decide to try out a salt lamp, I’d recommend going down to Central Market, where you can get one in a good size for a typical massage space for $20. Or, you can pick one up from Amazon for about $15. I’d also recommend saving whatever information pamphlets come with it so that you can show them to interested clients. Since there are a zillion types of salt lamps out there, from the simple and cheap to the elaborate and expensive, this allows you to give clients basic information without having to become a salt lighting expert.

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Take a Break, for Heaven’s Sake

In the last few weeks, I’ve begun to swear to myself never again to hire a therapist who works seven days a week–especially at three to four different jobs. No matter how much she assures me she can handle it/has handled it/wants to handle it. Not even if her practical makes me feel like whipped mousse . . . the first time around.

Why? Because humans have to have a day off. With no free time or time of your own, you can’t rejuvenate. Your work typically suffers. You start marshaling your energy during your clinic time, giving cookie-cutter massages with pretty, but useless frills and twirls. After all, you spent all morning working in a coffee shop or a book store or doing four massages at home, so you don’t have enough left for that other obligation you have.

Even worse, short, infrequent shifts with little energetic involvement doesn’t leave you a lot for being a good team member. You don’t always fold that load of laundry or look around for some shared task that needs to be done. You’re not really involved here, you just work here . . . sometimes. And you might make a few more dollars, but seriously . . . are a few more hours of massage going to make you rich? Not unless you’re personal massage staff for a major celebrity or oil tycoon.

My days off are really important to me, even in weeks like this when I can barely take my own advice. I only work one job, but I work it five days a week as lead therapist. Sometimes a big task or crisis looms, and I end up in the office on my days off. But I still watch myself carefully. I don’t want to end up with an endless job punctuated with nagging physical issues instead of a cherished calling. Which is what massage becomes to over-worked, desensitized therapists. In my opinion, at least.

Buckets O’ Stress

Well, it’s been kind of tense around my house lately, largely because my honey has spent the last three months on the jury for a creepy serial killer accused of five murders.

I must say, I ran out of jokes and quick subject changes when it all came down Tuesday with the death sentence. Not much one can do but console. A little TLC. I ignored all the crabbiness and just tried to be there for my honey.

This has been a life sentence for the jurors in stress.. they’ve had sleepless nights, nightmares from the up-close, color corpse photos and the extremely annoying defendant, acting as his own attorney, who couldn’t speak above a whisper or phrase a question right. The judge and prosecutor had to help him out a lot.

So I came home from the office last night to see my honey lying in bed, snuggled in a blanket, with a headache, a backache and an incredibly irritable mood. No, no massage. No warm bath. No ice cream. No. Leave me alone.

Here I am, a massage therapist who can pretty much deal with anyone’s barrel of stress, and I get ordered out of the room.

Around 11:30 that night, honey finally appeared, and decompressed by telling me how frustrating it had been to be a juror, to listen to all the testimony, to see the families, the testimony of two girls who survived.

“I know we did the right thing.”

Sometimes the right thing sucks, and there’s not much one can do about it.

I told honey that civic duty now being over for the next decade, we should now turn to the future and never think about Mr. Creepy again.

This is going to be hard.

Weighing Choices for New Year’s Resolutions

This is generally the worst time of year for manipulative ads on weight loss. Whether it’s pills, diets, or gym memberships, you can count on TV strangers in spandex or bikinis telling you that THIS year you absolutely HAVE to have their products in order to make your New Year’s resolution come true. Well, guess what air-brushed spandex/bikini people? I never played with Barbie dolls, and New Year’s resolutions for weight loss almost never come true . . . plus, they bore me spitless.

It might be different if all this weight-loss frenzy were truly based on health concerns, but often it’s just based on vanity and cultural anxiety. And I’ve seen the damage such frenzy does both in my own early life and in the lives of the people, particularly the women, who end up on my massage table. Makes me wonder . . . unless a person is so morbidly obsese his life or quality of life is in danger, is losing weight something all that important to resolve do?

Consider this little story: When I was in massage school, I continued to teach English to make ends meet. I had a Japanese student who was an advanced speaker of English, so I tended to work with her using articles and essays to improve her spoken English. One day, I found a news article written about how thoughts on women’s weight differs from culture to culture. The geographical focus of this article was the African country of Niger, a place I was somewhat familiar with, having worked on girls’ education projects there when I was in non-profit. And in Niger, girls really, really, really want to be . . . FAT. Yes, they WANT to be as fat as they can possibly get. Regular little “butterballs” as my father used say.

A story like this can really turn your world upside down if you were raised to set goals for seeing your own skeleton in the mirror. My Japanese student and I were surprised and amused to read about a gathering of teenage girls in a beauty shop, where the most popular girl in town was also the fattest. This girl said things like, “That girl over there is pretty, but she can never gain weight.” Other girls whispered that they wished they could be as fat as the head girl so that they could be popular and make the best marriages. One average-sized girl said she was happy the way she was, but she might try to put on at least 10 to 15 pounds, just to look good and be healthy. The author noted that the richer the man in Niger, the more huge women he gathered around him, as weight is a sign of health and weatlh. Anyone seeing a reverse pattern here?

And then, there was a darker side to the story. Women weren’t just eating more food to get fat, because in many cases, food was limited. Instead, they were taking animal steroids–an extremely dangerous practice–in order to beef up. Animal steroids are banned for human use, of course, but the black market trade in Niger still does a brisk business, especially before holidays and special occasions. You can’t have the family thinking you’re a weakling or that your husband’s a bad provider, after all! One doctor who treats such women stated something to the effect of, “The world is crazy. In American women have everything, and try to look like they have nothing. Here, women have nothing and want to look like they have everything.”

In considering such a story, losing 20-30 pounds as a New Year’s resolution doesn’t seem so important. Personally, I’d rather resolve to donate monthly to a charity I like called Operation Smile for kids born around the world with cleft palate. Or make sure all of my recyclables actually make it into the recycling bin, not the trash.

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