Nervous Wreck
Something unexpected has been happening in our treatment chairs lately. A client recently cried through both her manicure and pedicure. Steady, quiet, uncontrollable tears. A release she did not know she was holding in. A few days later, during a pedicure massage, another woman began to cry. That second woman was me.
I have been moving through a season of deep stress. The kind that lives in your body even when your mind is trying to stay functional.
When the massage began, nothing dramatic happened at first. Just warm hands, steady pressure, slow intentional movements. But somewhere between the rhythm of the touch and the quiet permission to rest, my nervous system let go. The tears came without warning. They were not about a single thought or moment. They were about release.
Touch is one of the most basic human needs, and also one of the most overlooked.
For many adults, especially women, there is very little safe, nurturing touch in daily life. For some, the only time another person touches them with care and intention is during a manicure, a pedicure, or a massage. The body learns to hold itself together without support. Over time, that holding becomes exhausting.
Safe, intentional touch can interrupt that pattern. Gentle pressure, rhythmic movement, and warmth activate the parasympathetic nervous system. That is the part of the body responsible for rest, digestion, and repair. When it finally switches on, emotions that have been waiting quietly often surface.
Tears during a service are not a sign that something has gone wrong. They are often a sign that something has gone right.
If you have ever cried during a massage, a facial, or a quiet moment of care, you are not weak. You are human. Your body recognized safety and took the opportunity to release.
And sometimes, that is exactly what healing looks like.
Lately, I do not know about you, but my algorithm is full of information about the nervous system.
Everywhere I look, there are tools, explanations, diagrams, and advice about being dysregulated. About trauma stored in the body. About stress responses that never quite shut off. About how our bodies keep the score long after our minds try to move on.
And the thing is, I recognize myself in all of it.
I am pretty sure this is what has caused my shoulder and back pain to flare up again. My jaw is tight and popping. My shoulder feels like it is on fire after a couple of hours of working. My skin feels the way it does when I have the flu or a sunburn. Even the weight of my clothes can hurt. Going over a bump on the car ride home feels excruciating, like my whole body is bracing for impact.
These are not small signals. They are my nervous system waving its arms, asking for attention.
So what have I done about it for myself? Honestly, not much. I keep working. I keep pushing. I keep telling myself I will deal with it later, when things calm down, when there is more time.
New Year. New Me.
One of my intentions this year is to begin practicing resonance breathing daily to gently support my nervous system and reduce the constant flight or fight state my body seems to be living in.
Resonance breathing simply means slowing the breath down, usually to somewhere between three and seven breaths per minute. One approachable method is often called box breathing. It is called box breathing because each part of the breath is the same length.
Here is how it works:
Breathe in for 4 seconds
Hold the breath for 4 seconds
Breathe out for 4 seconds
Wait for 4 seconds before starting again
The steady rhythm and the act of counting help calm the mind while stimulating the parasympathetic nervous system, the part of the body responsible for rest and repair.
I am giving myself permission to start slowly and build up over time. Even a few minutes is better than none.
Oh yeah. And I need to drink more water.