What Would Auntie Do?

I would have called my auntie.

That's where this story begins.

Before trying to make sense of being fired. Before thinking about my licenses, my education, or whether I ever want to give another massage.

I would have called my Auntie Susie.

We used to talk about everything. And this would have been one of those conversations. The kind where I could say what I was feeling before I understood it.

I miss that.

I miss her.

And since she's no longer here to talk to, I'm writing.

I don't write here often. Usually, I wait until something nudges me. A thought that keeps returning. A feeling that wants a little more room than I’ve been giving it — this one's been waiting.

I was fired from Massage Envy.

For some people, the next step seems straightforward. Ah, no big deal! Just find another location. Work somewhere else. Go out on my own. And they're right.

But I'm realizing that finding another place to work isn't the question I'm struggling with.

The question is whether I want to keep doing the work at all.

That's hard to say. Especially after more than thirty years.

---

I wasn't angry about being fired.

I was hurt by how it happened. I'm still sorting through that part.

You can spend so much of yourself in a place, and then one day your role there is over. Whatever you brought into those rooms, whatever those days meant to you, it was just business to the company, and business needs to move on.

Of course it does. I was an employee. Companies have policies and expectations. I understand that. But understanding something doesn't keep it from hurting.

And yet, underneath the hurt, there was relief.

I'm grateful I'm no longer there.

That may sound strange in a piece about being fired, but it's the truth.

A few months earlier, I began to think about giving my notice; yet I hadn't acted on it.

I don't believe in coincidence. I believe this may have been God pushing me toward a change I knew I needed but hadn't quite made.

I'm allowed to feel grateful for that push and still hope the ending was softer.

Both feelings are here.

---

When I look back at how I was working, I have to be honest with myself.

The dark room. The temperatures inside the building felt freezing. The pressure I felt to do an excellent job, every session, every time.

I wanted to do good work. The people at my table mattered to me.

But somewhere along the way, I stopped asking how that way of working was affecting me.

I kept showing up.

I kept giving.

And I chose to keep doing it.

That's part of what I'm looking at now. I'm not interested in making someone else responsible for how I feel about my career. I want to understand my own choices, too.

Why did I stay?

What was I holding on to?

And when did something I loved begin to feel like something I had to get through?

I don't have neat answers.

I'm not sure I would trust them yet if I did.

---

Right now, I have no desire to do massage or bodywork.

I keep checking in with myself about that.

I don't feel any excitement when I imagine another session. No familiar pull in my hands. No clear feeling of wanting to begin again somewhere else.

There's mostly a need to stop.

I've chosen to let my Rhode Island massage license expire. I’m seriously considering letting my board certification expire, too.

I plan to keep my Massachusetts massage license, along with my Massachusetts manicuring and real estate licenses.

But keeping a license doesn't mean I have to know today how I’ll use it.

That's something I'm learning to allow myself.

Still, I think about the education. The thousands of dollars. The years spent learning, practicing, and trying to become better at caring for people.

And sometimes the question comes out exactly like this:

For what?

I wish I could follow that with something wise.

Some days, I can see how those years shaped me. Other days, I just feel sad that I don't want what I once wanted.

I'm trying to leave room for those days, too.

---

I still enjoy writing about wellness.

That interest is here. I don't have to search very hard for it.

I want to write, work on my website, and share my products and the things I personally use. I want to explore what I can build through writing and marketing.

I don't know yet what that will become.

But when I think about it, I feel some curiosity.

Right now, that feels like enough reason to follow it.

At the same time, I want to understand why I entered massage and bodywork more than thirty years ago. What drew me in? What did I hope to give? What did I find there that kept me going for so long?

I want to remember without making myself return.

Because I don't know how to fall back in love with this work.

I don't know whether I will.

And there's trust involved, too. Trusting another workplace. Trusting other people. Trusting myself to notice when something is no longer working for me—and to act on it.

I'm slowly putting those pieces together.

---

What would Auntie do?

I wish I could call her and find out.

I won't put words in her mouth. What I miss is the conversation itself. Being able to tell her all of this without turning it into a lesson first.

I could tell her I'm relieved.

Then tell her I'm hurt.

Then admit I have no idea what I'm doing next.

And we could keep talking.

Writing this, I realize how much I needed to say those things together.

I was fired. I'm grateful to be out of that environment. I'm grieving a change in work that has been part of my life for more than thirty years.

And I miss my auntie.

Today, I don't have to make all of that mean something.

I've written it down.

I think that's where I begin.