How to Be a Normal Person Who Practices Bodywork.
In the early days of my training and teaching, there was nothing like getting together with a group of Alexander Technique teachers to make my neck hurt like hell. Just being around other colleagues would produce this needling, pestering narrative: my posture was crappy and needed correcting. While politely pretending to be interested in others, I was filled with anxiety, shame, and the Sisyphean responsibility of having to yet again nudge my errant body parts back into line.
In this essay, which I wrote several years ago but never published, I explore some of the traps of being a ‘bodyworker.’ From friendships and acquaintances, I began to get a sense of how pervasive shame was among workers in the wellness field. I found this troubling (and a bit of a relief since it was definitely my experience also). Shouldn’t shame be part of what well-being purports to address?
The Perception of a Thriving Bodywork Practice
A number of factors make bodywork an uncertain livelihood, to say the least. While the hourly wages may seem high, it’s hard to fill one’s schedule consistently. Income is fickle; when clients are sick or on vacation, we don’t make money. There’s little job security; studios open and fold, class schedules change. While there are many benefits to being a bodyworker (nourishing your well-being daily, wearing tights at work), there are few “benefits” in the traditional sense.
