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Massage School: Touch History
Dec. 18th, 2014 09:42 pmExercise: On a piece of paper, write a brief touch history of yourself. Then explain the ways your history may influence your delivery of professional touch. Make sure to consider the role of your culture, subculture, genetic predisposition, gender, age, life events, and spiritual path.
Physically, my touch history has been pretty healthy. My family was relatively unshy about expressing physical affection, I was only rarely spanked or hit, and I’ve never been molested or otherwise subjected to unwanted sexual touch. I was physically bullied a few times in school, but it never felt like a big deal; I knew an adult would come along and put a stop to it if I yelled, so I suppose it never inspired the feelings of powerlessness that make such experiences traumatic. I’m used to a relatively large amount of personal space, having grown up in a suburban town in the Pacific Northwest, but haven’t had much trouble adjusting to the more crowded conditions of Chicago. Aside from a couple of incidences of having my butt anonymously slapped (strangely, both at queer pride events), I can’t think of many negative physical touch experiences in my adult life at all, which seems unusual for a woman in her thirties. Were we going by physical touch history alone, I suspect that I would be well-prepared for a career in massage therapy – and certainly, I’m not complaining about my lack of difficulty in that arena.
But I suspect that physical touch isn’t the whole story. My issues, I fear, are entirely in the emotional-touching arena. My parents’ marriage was highly dysfunctional, and especially in its later years it involved strong elements of emotional blackmail and abuse. Although physical intimidation was unusual, I was regularly mentally and emotionally bullied in school, and that did make me feel powerless, largely because of my own social cluelessness combined with the inability/unwillingness of the adults around me to enforce their own rules. And one experience that stands out was being taken to a megachurch and hearing the pastor speak about Christ’s love and forgiveness, beautifully enough to genuinely touch me even through my teenage sullenness. It was only later that I discovered that same pastor regularly used his pulpit as a platform to advocate social and political policies I found thoroughly heinous. Is there such a thing as emotional molestation? Because that was how I felt after finding that out.
The upshot is that for many years, I have had a nearly pathological fear of being influenced or manipulated. And since forging an emotional connection with someone requires allowing them to influence me (as our textbook put it, it is impossible to touch clients without them, in turn, touching us), my default state in interacting with the world has been to wall myself off emotionally. And while this has been useful in a number of situations – unlike many women, I have very little trouble setting boundaries! – it has crippled me in my artistic pursuits, and likely stunted me socially as well.
To become an effective therapist, I’m going to have to find some way to learn how to lower my emotional guard – hopefully in a semi-controlled manner, that will allow me to maintain professionalism while still forging a genuine connection with my clients. In truth, if I can find some way to accomplish this, I will consider my time at massage therapy school well-spent regardless of my future career path.
Physically, my touch history has been pretty healthy. My family was relatively unshy about expressing physical affection, I was only rarely spanked or hit, and I’ve never been molested or otherwise subjected to unwanted sexual touch. I was physically bullied a few times in school, but it never felt like a big deal; I knew an adult would come along and put a stop to it if I yelled, so I suppose it never inspired the feelings of powerlessness that make such experiences traumatic. I’m used to a relatively large amount of personal space, having grown up in a suburban town in the Pacific Northwest, but haven’t had much trouble adjusting to the more crowded conditions of Chicago. Aside from a couple of incidences of having my butt anonymously slapped (strangely, both at queer pride events), I can’t think of many negative physical touch experiences in my adult life at all, which seems unusual for a woman in her thirties. Were we going by physical touch history alone, I suspect that I would be well-prepared for a career in massage therapy – and certainly, I’m not complaining about my lack of difficulty in that arena.
But I suspect that physical touch isn’t the whole story. My issues, I fear, are entirely in the emotional-touching arena. My parents’ marriage was highly dysfunctional, and especially in its later years it involved strong elements of emotional blackmail and abuse. Although physical intimidation was unusual, I was regularly mentally and emotionally bullied in school, and that did make me feel powerless, largely because of my own social cluelessness combined with the inability/unwillingness of the adults around me to enforce their own rules. And one experience that stands out was being taken to a megachurch and hearing the pastor speak about Christ’s love and forgiveness, beautifully enough to genuinely touch me even through my teenage sullenness. It was only later that I discovered that same pastor regularly used his pulpit as a platform to advocate social and political policies I found thoroughly heinous. Is there such a thing as emotional molestation? Because that was how I felt after finding that out.
The upshot is that for many years, I have had a nearly pathological fear of being influenced or manipulated. And since forging an emotional connection with someone requires allowing them to influence me (as our textbook put it, it is impossible to touch clients without them, in turn, touching us), my default state in interacting with the world has been to wall myself off emotionally. And while this has been useful in a number of situations – unlike many women, I have very little trouble setting boundaries! – it has crippled me in my artistic pursuits, and likely stunted me socially as well.
To become an effective therapist, I’m going to have to find some way to learn how to lower my emotional guard – hopefully in a semi-controlled manner, that will allow me to maintain professionalism while still forging a genuine connection with my clients. In truth, if I can find some way to accomplish this, I will consider my time at massage therapy school well-spent regardless of my future career path.
