I’ll admit it. I’m a catastrophisor. You know, that person who takes a small, seemingly innocuous thing, and ramps up the significance to catastrophic proportions. It’s the person who, at the first little bit of turbulence, has the whole plane crashing flash through their mind and is whole bodily convinced they are about to die in a fiery heap of metal.
For me, though, I catastrophise most specifically about my health. It’s a weird and uncomfortable practice and I know I am not the only person in the world who does this. (Right? There are more of us, aren’t there?) While there may be many people who catastrohise, it feels all consuming when it is happening to me. And like anything that has a large degree of irrationality behind it, it is hard to reason with someone in the throws of believing the worst case scenario is imminent or just around the corner. Along with the catastrophising is a high level of anxiety. This is something new I am coming to terms with. Anxiety and catastrophising go hand in hand. I have always been someone who dismisses my anxiety. So much so that I would disagree with anyone who suggests I might be anxious or have anxiety. How dare they? In reality, though, I wouldn’t be catastrophising if I wasn’t anxious. You can be anxious without being a catastrophisor but I’m pretty sure catastrophising comes from a certain level or degree of anxiety.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been a health catastrophisor but I think it began a few years ago when I started thinking about each day and how it could be my last because there are no guarantees and shit happens and life can change in the blink of an eye.
I am all too aware the tenuousness of life and I keep that in my mind because I feel like it makes me appreciate everything more, while also reminding me that a lot of stuff just doesn’t matter. The clutter and drama clear away faster. I’m less inclined to care about gossip and more interested to get straight into what matters. I want to make and build connections on solid foundations. I don’t want to put my precious time or energy into smoke and mirrors.
Myth # 1 - That's the thing with magnets, right?
I work in a multi-disciplinary wellness centre that is heavy on massage therapists and light on “weird, esoteric” modalities like Bowen therapy.
People know what massage is. They generally know what acupuncture is and chiropractic and osteopathy, and even reiki. But Bowen? Not so much. When people ask me what Bowen therapy is, I find I spend time explaining what it’s not. It’s not like a lot of things, it turns out.
You know when you are trying to figure some life things out (work, relationships, where to live etc) and people ask you, ‘Well, what (job, partner, address) do you want?’ and it’s easier to come up with what you DON’T want than it is to actually drill down to what you do want? Well, that’s the same with explaining Bowen therapy. And just like listing all the things you don’t want isn’t helpful, it’s the same with ticking off all the things Bowen therapy isn’t. It still doesn’t answer the question of what Bowen therapy IS.
It can be hard to convince people to try Bowen therapy because they want to know what it’s like. The thing is, though, it isn’t like anything. It’s its own healing modality, just like acupuncture isn’t ‘like’ anything else; it’s just acupuncture.
This means there are a lot of misconceptions about Bowen therapy. My favourite is that it has something to do with magnets. When a person walked into the wellness centre wanting to see a practitioner to help with her back problems, the receptionist recommended Bowen. It took a lot of convincing this person to have a Bowen treatment because for some reason they heard from someone who heard from someone that their friend had Bowen and the practitioner used magnets on them. And they didn’t like that.
So let me set the record straight: if ever a Bowen therapist uses magnets on you, you are not having Bowen therapy.
I can talk for ages on what Bowen therapy isn’t but instead I will focus on what Bowen therapy is: Bowen therapy is a soft-tissue healing modality which helps the body to heal itself. Bowen moves help to shift the body from the sympathetic (fight/flight/freeze) to the parasympathetic (rest/digest) nervous system. Because the Bowen moves work with the body’s innate ability to heal, deep levels of healing can often be felt on the physical, mental and emotional levels. Bowen is non-manipulative so instead of the practitioner imposing moves on a system which may not be able to handle it, the practitioner instead facilitates change by applying small moves where the body needs input.
It’s simple. It’s wholistic. And it’s certainly not magnets! It’s also not particularly weird or esoteric but that will be a myth to debunk at a later date.
For now, just know that Bowen therapy is probably the safest, most gentle and wholistic treatment you will ever come across. It will most likely also be one of the most effective therapies your body can experience. It works equally well on chronic and acute conditions and there are few contraindications.
Interested in a session (without magnets) or want more information about what Bowen is? Contact Susan on 0426241435. Bookings essential but same day appointments often available.
We were driving to the coast a couple of weeks ago. There are a few different routes we could take and since my husband and I differ in our choice of the ‘best’ way, we tend to go one way and come home another. The thing about living so far from a major highway means there are a lot of miles to cover on country roads. Although I wished we lived in a place where we didn’t have to travel an hour and a half to get to a road that would take us somewhere, one of the aspects of this situation is the space it allows for transition between the country and somewhere busier. That time and distance allow the space to prepare.
The other thing I like about all the distance on the country roads is the sense of a time that has passed. A glimpse of memory of a time when life wasn’t moving so quickly. You are given these snapshots in time.
On our recent trip, we drove past a derelict looking entrance to what I can only assume was a rather large estate. In its time, this entrance would have been grand. And it would have signified something. It would have been a welcoming onto a property worthy of its craftsmanship.
You couldn't see the estate from the road so I have no idea whether the grandeur of the estate went any further, or deeper, then the entrance. But I imagine the house and grounds matched what the entrance suggested.