Do you trust me?
Today I had an experience in a session that reminded me how honored I am to do what I do. I was working with a client whom I hadn't seen in a few months, so I was very excited for them to see my new office and catch up on the past few months. When people show up for massage appointments, I try to spend at least a few minutes in conversation, not just about their goals for their treatment but also to diffuse any social pressure we both might feel that could hinder their relaxation during the session. I want my clients to be able to feel completely free to talk or not talk during a session, and sometimes it helps to get the "how's life" type of stuff out of the way at the beginning.
We caught up on the family, their current state of physical discomfort (recurring migraines back with a vengeance) and how we were going to address current concerns (knot in the shoulder, three days post migraine, and radiating pain and tingling down the arm). When I stepped back into my treatment room, I sensed that quiet was the order of the day for this stay at home parent. In these cases I keep my questions to a minimum to make sure that pressure, temperature, music, and headrest are all to their liking, and then I let them zone out.
A few minutes in, while working tight fascia in their hip region (a high percentage of migraines actually originate in the hips) I asked how the pressure was. My client let me know I could go deeper if I needed, and I responded that I surely would as soon as the tissue was a little more warmed up. And then they said:
"I trust you."
It wasn't "Well, I trust you because you're the expert," or "I really wish you would use more pressure but I guess you're in charge." Their tone implied quite simply that they were content to let me follow my intuition and expertise. They could, at least for that hour, relax and focus (or not) on letting go of the pain, the tension, and the spiral of worry that chronic pain creates.
The innocence of such a simple statement reminded me of when my brother and sister were toddlers and they reached up to take my hand when they felt unsure or nervous about something in their environment. My presence was enough to engender that childlike sense of trust and safety. Humans create a soothing, grounded presence for each other in a way that we are incapable as social creatures of doing on our own.
I've worked with clients age 4 to 98, and it breaks my heart a little that around 16 years old, a guardedness descends over the body. The actual quality of muscle and connective tissue begins to change. This is the emergence of adulthood: a slow leaking away of trust in the absolute security of the world around us. For my clients to be able to regain that trusting state for an hour at a time, even if it's only every few months, awes me.
So whom do you trust? When you go to your doctor, grocer, therapist, mechanic, mentor, professor, are you able to let down some walls and relax into the encounter? Do you feel listened to in a creative way or is someone else's agenda running roughshod over your expressed needs? There are many professional relationships in our lives that take on an authoritative relationship when if fact we should be viewing that person as a contracted service provider. After all, you are paying valuable money for a service. This isn't, like the first 12 years of formal education, a federally mandated relationship. If the intuitive, trusting, and still childlike part within you feels patronized, dismissed, or not listened to, even in a small way, it's probably time to seek out a more collaborative relationship.
For my part, I'm going to continue to revel in the joy of building these trusting relationships with my massage and craniosacral therapy clients. It doesn't happen all at once, but when we do reach that point of simple and often unexpressed understanding, I am reminded how powerful the healing vocation is for both of us.