When the Work You Loved Suddenly Feels Dead

When the Work You Loved Suddenly Feels Dead

-written by me Shannon the owner of the page you're on.

Years ago, I was given a gift.

And for years, that gift lived in my hands.

It allowed me to listen without words. To notice what a body was holding. To create a few quiet minutes in which another human being could soften, breathe, and feel cared for.

I never believed I was a miracle worker or allowed my ego to be huge.

Massage therapist Laura Allen recently wrote about avoiding “healer syndrome.” Her message, drawing on the work of Nina McIntosh, is an important one: massage therapists do not magically heal people. We use our training to create conditions that may help people feel better.

And I agree.

But I have been sitting with another question.

Who creates those conditions for the massage therapist?

I was recently fired from my job at a massage franchise.

And the experience I am noticing did much more than just abruptly without me knowing end my employment as though I'd been charged with a criminal activity, instead what the experience did was,

It changed something inside me that I'm not sure can be reversed.

I left feeling as if I had been presumed guilty instead of treated like a professional whose perspective mattered. After more than 25 years of serving people through reflexology, private bodywork, massage, and wellness, I suddenly felt as though the meaning of all that work, the passion behind it, the countless relationships, the caring, the laughs, the deeper connections, the deeper part of why I do what I do could all be erased by an ending.

That is the wound I am trying to name.

Right now, when I think about giving another massage, I feel nothing.

The part of me that once cared deeply about offering hands-on work feels dead.

There is anger there too.

I find myself thinking: Why should I keep giving so much of myself to people or businesses that may not care whether the therapist can pay her bills, keep a roof over her head, or recover from an accusation or abrupt dismissal?

That is not the polished thing to say.

But it is the honest thing.

Massage therapy asks for more than physical labor. A therapist brings attention, emotional steadiness, judgment, boundaries, presence, and care into a treatment room. We are expected to help each client feel safe. We are expected to listen. We are expected to respond professionally when something does not go as planned.

Those expectations are appropriate.

But care cannot be demanded in only one direction.

If an industry wants grounded, ethical, client-centered therapists, it must also build workplaces in which therapists are heard, respected, and treated fairly.

That does not mean ignoring a client complaint.

Nor does it mean protecting someone from accountability.

It means recognizing that a complaint and a proven act of misconduct are not automatically the same thing. It means listening to everyone involved before reaching a conclusion. It means communicating clearly. It means remembering that the person wearing the uniform is still a human being whose livelihood and professional identity may be altered in a single conversation.

I recently made a short video called “Follow Your Road Without Following Directions.” The words came to me because reinvention rarely arrives with a map.

I do not know whether my road will lead me back to a massage table.

I am not ready to make that promise.

Perhaps the gift in my hands is gone.

Or perhaps it has gone quiet because the rest of me no longer feels safe enough to offer it.

There is a difference.

For now, being the change I want to see means telling the truth about what can happen when a caring professional leaves a workplace feeling discarded.

It means asking massage businesses to measure more than bookings, enhancements, memberships, and rebooking percentages.

Measure whether your therapists feel safe speaking.

Measure whether they believe a difficult moment will be investigated fairly.

Measure whether your managers know how to hold a conversation that protects the client without dehumanizing the therapist.

Measure how many gifted hands leave the profession because something in them goes quiet from an experience like mine.

I care too much about this profession to pretend that the way massage therapists are treated in cases like mine does not affect the care they are able to give. In my case, it has deeply.

I may not know where my road is taking me next.

But I know the change I want to see.

Care for the client.

Care for the therapist.

Accountability for both.

Dignity for both.

That is where healing conditions truly begin.