Fear Factor

My Swedish Massage class is history. The final was Thursday. Final meaning each student had to give a massage to a client we had never seen. We had to remember the entire routine and execute it with precision and confidence, keeping in mind these people were there simply to critique technique. Yes, the nerve vibe was a bit uncomfortable to say the least. Ok, lets just be honest about it... every one of us were a wreck, acting like we had only had class for a week instead of 70 hours. Alison, our teacher, did her best to calm the spiking energy, but to no avail.

I tried every thing I knew to try, sitting alone, laying on the floor, cleaning (first clue I am loosing my composure) and eventually just gave into the feeling of terror. In hindsight, I have no idea why I was overwhelmed, but I was. My techinque is good. I know that. It was the whole "do it from memory" thing that tore me up. What if my client hated it? What if I just froze?

The first group went and my group had 90 minutes of stewing to endure. This was really hard. 90 minutes can really do some classy tricks on your head when you are out of control with your stress. Trust me, my psyche even suprised me how cunning it can be. All the questions roll through like a river well past flood stage. Will I remember every nerve stroke and every petrissage? Are my fingernails short enough? Did I bring enough linens? Did I bring the right oil? Will he want creme instead? (I was assigned the only guy in the group and I don't like using creme) Is he a snot about technique? How well does he know the routine if I screw up? If I fail this massage will I have wasted our money and my time? Am I even in the right field? ohmygod..... it's time....

The first seven emerged from the room all looking totally relieved to have it over with. Glancing at the remaining seven, we are pretty wired. I wished for a miracle to happen and my head to get in the groove for this. It didn't happen.

Alison introduced me to Chuck. Not a big strapping man, just average height, but well muscled. Good. Not a lot to deal with in locating groups and landmarks. cool... breathe lori breathe... Chuck emerges in my sheets and gets on the table. All the proper questions evaporate from my head so I moved to the table and just stare blankly at the wall. Oh shit I am in it now.

Come on Lori, you know this. Just start in... I made contact and went for it. I knew I was screwed when I did the wrong turn after the face massage. It continued through the rest of the session. I forgot stretches. I forgot routines. I drained one arm and not the other. I nerve stroked one leg and not the other. I redraped before nerve stroking the back. I worked really hard to stay focused on my client and not look at the others in the room. This was a real bitch. Angela was next to me and so was Stephanie. I looked at Angela at one point and just wanted to bolt I felt so bad about delivering what I conceived to be a wretched massage. She looked so happy and confident, and I was freaking out. I didn't have the guts to look at Steph. She and I have gotten to be very good friends and I was afraid she would read me like a book.

I knew if I didn't get a grip Chuck would feel my energy and know just how crappy of a massage he was getting. An old habit cultivated from a life long practice of stuffing my feelings came into play. I kept telling myself to just get through it. Just finish. Don't run. Just finish. I did notice I was ahead of everyone else in the room. Oh shit, how much have I forgotten?

Done. Push the solar plexus. Redrape the feet. "Chuck, your massage is over." I helped him off the table and started to remove the linens. I couldn't deal with it anymore. I bolted like a rabbit, ran outside and sobbed my eyes out. I must have been outside for 15 to 20 minutes. I called Steve on his cell, he didn't answer. I cried some more. I truly knew I had just delivered the worst massage in history. It would be a miracle if he passed me at all. I fully expected to get a recommendation to retake the class. I went back in hoping he had left and I could at least get a drink of water and calm down. As I rounded the corner, Steph was sitting on the lobby benches. "Hey! Where were you?" she asked. Oh Crap! She is sitting with Chuck! He is still there!!! I bolted for the classroom because I just couldn't face him. How do you look in the eyes of a client and face the fact you are crappy and your dreams are just wasted. I am not strong enough for that.

Well, thank God for friends. Steph followed me into the classroom and then I lost it all over again. She looked at me like I had lost my mind. In her words, Chuck was sitting there barely able to communicate. She said he was completely wiped out. Oh hell is this good? He finally asked for my last name when she asked him if he was ok. Now I am sure I failed. Had to get the name right so he could tell teacher Alison how shitty I was. My energy is not subsiding.

Alison entered the room with the sentence sheets. (critique sheets) She handed mine to me and said... "wow Lori, very good!" What? What?? Yes, I freaked over nothing. Chuck loved it. I recieved all outstanding marks except for one. Care to guess which one that was? Yep... memory of sequence. For that he rated me "Above average". His comments on the back said I have a good strong touch and should be successful in the field. WooHoo!!! Successful!!! ~doing the happy dance now~

So I did it. I looked my fear of failure in the eyes and it damn near kicked my ass. During the massage I came very close to apologizing to Chuck and asking him if he minded me starting over. Now that would have been a monumental mistake. Today I feel like I will be a good therapist. I believe I can accomplish my goals and build on my dreams.

Here's the picture in my head. Standing on a wind swept beach, waves peeling perfect rights behind me, oil holster on my side loaded, ready to go, me wearing a tee shirt that says "massage therapist". Smiling. Solidly confident. Well, mostly confident. Facing my fear factors.