Skin, Scars, and Soul-Connection.

What 17 Years of Moonlighting as a Professional Massage Therapist Has Taught Me

I got my massage therapy license the day after my youngest niece, Gabriella, was born. That’s how I keep track of how long I’ve been doing this work—on and off, for all these years. However long she's been alive, that’s how long I’ve had these hands in service to other people’s bodies.

I’m not currently charging while I renew my license, but I’ve been offering sessions again—pro bono for now—and I’d almost forgotten how much I love it. It’s reminded me of what a privilege it is to hold space for another human in that vulnerable, stripped-down state.

Thousands of bodies have been on my table. All kinds. Super long bodies, short bodies. Curved spines, hairy backs, fragile ribs. Scars, tattoos, prosthetics, implants, injuries. Some people fall asleep. Some cry. Some quietly whisper stories of grief or joy or nothing at all.

And I just get to be there. To be the one who doesn’t flinch or judge. To say—without words—you are allowed to take up space just as you are.

Because I don’t just see bodies. Or scars. I see people.

I see the soft underbelly of grief or pain that no one’s touched in years. The tattoo they got during their divorce. The stretch marks from motherhood. The exhaustion tucked into their hips. The loneliness stitched into their lower back. I see the parts they try to hide—and I honor them.

Sometimes people cry on the table.
Sometimes they fall asleep.
Sometimes they tell me things they haven’t said out loud before.
And I just breathe. Stay present. Hold the space.

It’s why I came back to massage again this year. Not for money, but because I missed what it brings—to them, and to me. And while I don’t want this work to only be transactional, I also believe time is valuable. Knowledge is valuable. Touch is valuable. There’s nothing wrong with being compensated for care that takes skill and presence and effort. But I never want to bring only part of myself to the table.

And truthfully, there were seasons I did.

I remember showing up to massage when I wasn’t taking care of my own body. When I was exhausted or numb or actively poisoning myself. And even though I tried to show up with love, the truth is—I probably didn’t have much in my cup to pour into theirs.

But now… now it’s different.

Now I feel full. Present. Alive. And I can feel the healing pouring out of me like a current—unforced and easy. I give from overflow. And it’s such a gift to be able to share from that place. To offer someone peace without depleting myself. To use my body—my hands, my breath, my attention—as something sacred.

And truthfully, I can acknowledge that that’s a special gift I’ve been given - to be able to connect with complete strangers on such a holy and real level. To make them feel safe and seen. In business, in massage, in friendship, in recovery. I pray thanks to my Higher Power for such a cosmic gift.

Over the years, I’ve worked in fancy spas and from Craigslist ads. I’ve been offered top dollar, and I’ve been asked inappropriate questions about my “draping policy”—to which I always reply: Yes, I have one. End of discussion.

I’ve massaged a woman who didn’t tell me until afterward that her husband had just died, but I sensed her pain even before she told me.

I’ve massaged a man whose skin was such a deep shade of purple-black it gleamed under candlelight like obsidian. It almost took my breath away.

I’ve massaged a woman with twins inside her belly during a course in Chicago—a session that felt so holy I still revisit it in my mind when I need grounding. It’s a core memory now. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life.

I massaged a woman with extra vertebrae such that she had a bit of a vestigial tail. She hadn’t been touched below the waist since early adulthood and she was 60 years old. What a privilege to be trusted with such vulnerability. I was so honored.

I’ve massaged people I love. Friends. Family. Partners.
And in return, I’ve been healed, too.

Because when life feels overwhelming—when real estate deals fall through, when schedules collapse, when emotions spin—massage brings me back to breath. Back to stillness. Back to what matters.

Just me.
And them.
And the gift of being human and soul-connected together for an hour.

And that’s the work. ❤️‍🩹

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🧘🏻‍♀️🛠️💫
— Tammy

#StayGrounded #DoTheWork #KeepTheFaith

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