Issue link: https://www.massageandbodyworkdigital.com/i/969285
I went from being a physically fit, active, vibrant young woman who climbed, backpacked, skied, ran, and maintained a full-time massage practice to being injured so badly that I would not be able to return to any of those activities without pain. The impact on my life was significant and permanent. Massage, bodywork, yoga, and the love and support of people around me have been the cornerstones of navigating this experience. To this day, I continue to feel the effects of this one moment in time, and I reach to these life-affirming gifts to keep me going. Another gift that came out of this experience is one that I could not have imagined at first. Now that I know what it feels like to experience and manage chronic pain for many years, I have a deepened ability to feel genuine empathy for the clients who arrive to my table in pain, and I can support them in a meaningful way. Prior to my own pain, I certainly offered empathy and care to clients who reported pain. However, I had no idea of the extensive struggle that chronic pain imposes on a life, sometimes for an indefinite period of time. My injury gave me a new level of understanding. THE DOMINO EFFECT OF PAIN Since massage therapists come into direct contact with clients in chronic pain, I offer my story as a perspective on the far-reaching domino effect pain and injury can have on a person's life. Pain is more than a physical experience. It is mental, emotional, and financial as well, and I believe we have an opportunity as massage therapists and bodyworkers to provide a space that encourages hope and support on all of these levels. Prior to my accident, I had created a life I loved. I was consciously grateful for my health, my work, my ability to make a difference in people's lives, and my capacity to think positively. I lived alone and supported myself with my massage business. I had even recently fallen in love. After the accident, I wondered why I had to endure the pain I was in even though I had given so much energy to gratitude and goodness. It was difficult to understand. It was also difficult to go from being independent to dependent. The first years of recovery included a slew of surgeries, doctor appointments, physical therapy, and pain-management treatments I could not take myself to, so I was required to tap into a list of friends to rely on. I felt like a burden. Grief arose from the loss of my ability to do the things that once brought me peace and joy. My relationship was compromised with jealousy as I watched my partner experience outdoor adventures without me. A small flicker of hope stayed alive that someday I would recover to the point of returning to my previous life activities. I believed in my power to heal. As the years passed, I eventually had to accept that my life had to take on a new story. Pain wore me down so much that I struggled to have resilience to these emotions of sadness, loss, grief, and anger. I didn't feel like myself any longer, and it took everything I had to get up every day and make the best of it. My nature is to have a positive attitude, yet this experience was requiring significant effort to maintain a positive and clear mental space. Added to this mental game was the financial burden of pain. Even with a great insurance policy, costs still add up from surgeries, office visit co-pays, pain-management treatments that aren't covered under insurance, and alternative treatments, such as chiropractic, massage, and acupuncture. During my first year of recovery, I was unable to work except for some administrative project work I could do at home. I took a big financial hit, which caused an additional layer of stress. MASSAGE, BODYWORK, AND YOGA TO THE RESCUE Massage, bodywork, and yoga wove a golden thread through this entire experience, offering the most consistent relief from the physical, mental, and emotional challenges I was having. Within days of getting out of the hospital, one of my dearest friends and the owner of the massage school I was teaching at offered energy work. Her work brought movement when I couldn't move my body freely or lie in ways necessary to receive massage. The effects of this work were profound in easing pain. Her presence and generosity lifted my spirits. At eight weeks post-injury, I was given permission to progressively spend less time in a back brace and begin introducing gentle movement to my spine. I had just completed restorative yoga teacher training prior to falling, so I knew how to safely perform gentle stretches that eased my spine back into movement and breathed life back into my whole body. My yoga mat also became a safe space to feel the difficult emotions and allow them to move through me. A fellow yoga instructor came to my home to guide me through Phoenix Rising Yoga Therapy, which caused profound shifts and unwinding 76 m a s s a g e & b o d y w o r k m a y / j u n e 2 0 1 8 On June 10, 2008, life as I knew it changed in an instant. One moment I was climbing, and the next moment I was falling. Thirty-five feet, to be exact.