I studied massage therapy at James Watt College in Greenock for about 15 months, before quitting the course. I've been to college three times before, and I've dropped out each time at around about the same point. It's when there are too many changes to the course and I can't keep up with them, so I start dropping behind in some classes. Then I skip those classes and fall further behind. Then it gets to the point where I realise I won't catch up, so I quietly admit defeat and drop out.
I also had problems with the fact that while I wanted to learn Swedish massage and maybe aromatherapy, I wasn't really interested in most of the rest of the classes. I understood the logic of anatomy & physiology, health & safety, the integumentary system, cardio-vascular system and all those other semi-medical classes, so I enjoyed those too. But reflexology? Messing around with peoples' feet because that MIGHT be having an effect on the other systems of their body? I just wasn't interested.
I resented the fact that if I didn't pass every class, then I wouldn't pass the course. And that included those I had no interest in, would never use again and would not benefit me in the slightest.
So I quit. And a friend recommended that I study privately instead. I tried to get funding, but failed, so paid for the course out of my unemployment benefit instead. The course fees took up a huge chunk of my income, so I was reduced to living off beans on toast for nine months, while I concentrated solely on Swedish massage - a course that also covered all the physiological elements that were relevant.
I passed, because I understood what I needed to know at every step of the course. One weekend per month over nine months, we concentrated on a specific system of the body, while still taking in the skeletal and muscular stuff and while still learning how to give a good massage. At home, we knew what stuff to brush up on and we were encouraged to use friends and family as private case studies. I had two posters on the wall by my PC - one showing the skeletal system and one showing the muscular system. They were covered in post-it notes concentrating on about forty specific muscles and included (in anatomical terms) their origins, insertion points and actions. I learned how to map out a broad and simplified version of the cardio-vascular system and would draw it out repeatedly until I could do it from memory alone. What was very complicated at college, became a lot easier on this course.
After that, I went onto a different course and learned Acupressure Therapy. This was a more specialised form of massage that was designed to be taken into the office environment. The client could sit in a specially designed chair and the therapist could get to work on that person's neck, back and shoulders. The client remained fully dressed and no oils were used. For me - as a male therapist - this was perfect. There was no major need for privacy, the massages were delivered right out in the open and the client didn't feel vulnerable.
I got a job at Glasgow airport, where I developed my technique, then moved on to work at a clinic in Glasgow. I worked there for about three years. The business was owned by Nicola - a friend of mine - and we worked incredibly hard there to try and develop it. I routinely worked for a minimum of 60 hours every week. There were days when I had to both open and close the place, so I'd get up in the morning, take more than an hour to travel to Glasgow, open the shutters, get inside, clean the place, get it open by 9AM, work all day, then close up at 8PM and return home.
Not every day was like that. On other days, Nicola and I would travel in together, so I could sleep a bit later. She often commented that she couldn't understand why I wasn't exhausted and at the time we put that down to the fact that I have a very high metabolism. I still believe that was a strong element, but since I found out that I have Asperger's Syndrome, I also learned that this is one of the things that people with the condition tend to experience. Being focused on the job and having distractions would mean that I wasn't always aware of how they were affecting my physically. Just because I didn't FEEL tired didn't mean that I was as inexhaustible as I appeared to be. In fact, when I would get home, I'd usually have time to get myself something to eat, watch TV for an hour and then practically collapse into bed. And get up the following day to do the same thing again.
It seems that people on the autistic scale aren't always the best judges of how they're feeling. OK... so I covered tiredness there, because it was directly applicable to me as a result of that job. But I've also experienced times when I've sat down at my PC to write something, or work on a piece of art, or even just play a game - and them become so focused on what I'm doing that hours can go by without me really being aware of it. I won't notice time passing, or the room getting colder and darker, or the fact that I'm getting hungry. I couldn't even estimate the amount of times where I've sat back from the screen and actually felt like I'm just waking up - and then trying to remember when I last ate. Usually the answer to that one would be that I HADN'T eaten that day. And I'd suddenly realise that I was cold, hungry and thirsty.
Not tired, though. This is complicated by that metabolism thing again, but I hardly ever get properly tired. I seldom have proper sleep patterns and I hate going to bed. It just seems like an incredible waste of time and I can always find something to distract me or some reason to delay the moment where I turn in. Unless, of course, I'm working as a massage therapist for 60 hours a week.
One thing I love (and it happens rarely) is that feeling of sheer, physical and mental exhaustion that actually means that my bed is something to be welcomed. That sensation where even just stripping off is an exertion that feels like a strain on overstretched physical resources. And that sensation of sheer bliss as I drag the blankets over myself. When I'm pushed to that level, then my bed becomes the most welcome and welcoming possible place.
Back to massage therapy, though - I seem to have drifted away from the subject.
I used to find it intriguing that I was the least tactile massage therapist I had ever met. I've never been the kind of person to go about initiating physical contact. It's not that I have a problem with it, like a lot of people on the autistic scale - it's more like I've never really been sure of the rules of physical contact, so I've never been sure how it would be perceived if I DID initiate it. Handshakes have usually been fine, but even then I can get a bit over analytical. In any given situation, I'll find myself thinking about whether offering my hand to someone is going to be an appropriate or welcome gesture.
So when I first started training as a massage therapist, I found myself thinking about this. I had chosen a career option where I was going to HAVE to touch people. It was a necessary and intrinsic part of this chosen vocation. But... there were rules governing it. It was sanctioned contact. So perhaps I'd chosen this job as a means of receiving tactile contact as well as giving it.
At the airport - and then at the clinic - I had a lot of loyal clients who kept returning specifically for me. It's a really good feeling to look up and see familiar faces coming back because they appreciated what I'd done to them on previous visits.
(Please note that the following anecdotes will - in no way - compromise any client confidentiality issues, because no names are going to be given and there will not be enough personal information that could result in anyone identifying them.)
I was just about to close the shutter on the clinic one day, when someone turned up and she looked so incredibly disappointed that she'd missed her opportunity for a massage, that I couldn't just turn her away. I missed my train, but I still invited her in. She was an intriguing person; she never spoke much and I never really felt like I could find anything in her back that particularly needed working on, but she clearly disagreed because she would turn up on an average of twice a week. She was a very shy person and I suspect that she came back because there was a tactile element that she wasn't experiencing elsewhere.
At the airport, a girl came through on a business trip one day and had a massage. Nothing particularly special about that, but she came back through the following day on her return journey and this time I found something wrong with her neck. A big lump on the right hand side. I knew it hadn't been there the day before, so I was immediately concerned. I explored it nervously and came to the tentative conclusion that it was a rotated vertebrae. After a moment I mentioned it to her and she instantly agreed. It was the recurring consequence of an old horse riding accident and often presented itself when she slept in a strange bed. And it always resulted in blinding headaches. I didn't go pushing it back into place or anything stupid like that, but as I worked on the muscles round about it, they reasserted themselves and slowly drew it back into its proper position. I was fascinated by this process - I was witnessing the body actually correcting itself with a bit of outside help. I never saw her again, so I don't know if she managed to escape the headaches this time, but I like to think she did.
Another regular client at the airport used to enjoy telling me that he appreciated that I could pile on the pressure. "These little girls," he said once. "They don't know how to fuckin' do it." I knew that was wrong, because the little therapist he was referring to could really pile on the pressure; she could practically cripple me. But he was convinced that a tall, male therapist was automatically stronger so he wasn't going to be convinced. One day, he came through and told me he'd paid £90 for a massage the previous day. I was impressed and said that must have been a good massage. "Well, to be fair," he said. "It wasn't just a massage."
Again at the airport... a businessman came through and he was seriously angry. He walked into the massage area and practically spluttered out his story of indignation. The airport had messed up on a connecting flight and now he was going to have to wait twelve hours and still have to pay extra. I really felt bad for him; I could empathise with the impotent rage he was clearly feeling. I let him rant and after a minute or two, when he'd finished telling me the story, he aplogised "for taking it out on me". I told him that I hadn't felt like he'd done that; he just needed a vent and it wasn't like I was feeling picked on because he wasn't holding me responsible in any way. Then I gave him a massage. When I had finished and he sat up, the transformation was incredible. He was completely blissed out. In that moment, I really loved my job.
I can't do massage therapy any more - not as a career. I was in a car accident in early 2009 and was left with long-term whiplash. Now I can probably work on more than one or two people in a short period, but if I do any more work than that, the whiplash flares up and I'm in a lot of pain all over again so I have to make sure I don't overdo it.
I still do it occasionally, but not in a professional capacity. To keep in practice, or because I know someone could benefit from it. And maybe one day I'll get past this whiplash and get back into it as a career option. Just... not for a good while, yet.
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