My First Experience with CST and SomatoEmotional Release
Today, I went for a massage.
At least, that’s what I thought I was going for.
I walked into the clinic tired, wired, and hoping for something simple: some pressure on all the tight spots, a bit of relief from the constant hum in my body, maybe a better sleep tonight.
Before anything started, my therapist sat down and did something important: she asked questions.
Not just, “Any areas bothering you?” but real questions:
What’s been going on?
How have you been feeling?
What’s your stress like right now?
I answered as best I could. I told her things had been heavy. That I hadn’t been sleeping great. That my nervous system felt like it had been on high alert for a while.
She listened. Really listened.
Then she said:
“Based on what you’re describing, I think CST might be a really good option for you — if you’re open to it.”
That’s the moment everything shifted.
“You Want to Do… What?”
I’d never heard of CST before.
She explained it — craniosacral therapy, very light touch, working with the nervous system, subtle movements, helping the body unwind.
I’ll be honest: my first reaction was hesitation.
I’d come in for a massage. My brain wanted something familiar: pressure, knots, tension, relief. CST sounded… vague. Gentle. Almost too gentle for how loud everything felt inside me.
Part of me thought:
“Is this really going to do anything for what I’m carrying?”
But another part of me — the exhausted part that’s tired of white-knuckling my way through everything — was curious.
So I said yes.
From “Doing” to Simply Being
We didn’t start with deep tissue or working through muscles.
We started with stillness.
I lay on the table. She placed her hands lightly — at my head, at the base of my spine, along my body in what felt like very precise, very gentle contact.
If someone had taken a photo, it might have looked like nothing was happening.
Inside, something was.
There were moments where I could feel exactly where her hands had been, even after she moved them. Almost like the imprint of her touch was still there, lingering in my tissues.
Subtle, but undeniable.
It wasn’t the “ahhh” of a muscle finally letting go under pressure. It was more like my body slowly realizing: “It’s safe to soften here.”
The Theatre I Didn’t Expect
At some point, I drifted — not asleep, not fully awake, but somewhere in between.
I found myself in what I can only call a vision:
An old theatre.
Red chairs.
Empty room.
I was standing alone, in a black suit, maybe a tuxedo.
No audience.
No performance.
No one watching.
Just a quiet, weighty kind of stillness.
And the feeling that washed over me was surprising:
Peace.
Not the theoretical kind I write about or think about, but a felt sense of being offstage for once. No one needing anything. No one evaluating. No one to impress.
Just me.
Just being.
Looking back, that image felt symbolic in a way I don’t fully understand yet — like my body staged a scene to show me something my mind hasn’t been able to articulate:
“This is what it could feel like if you weren’t always performing.”
Two New Terms: CST and SER
Later, I learned there’s a name for what I likely experienced:
- CST – Craniosacral Therapy
A gentle, hands-on approach that works with the nervous system and the subtle rhythms of the body. It looks like “not much,” but the intent is to help the body feel safe enough to unwind and self-correct. - SER – SomatoEmotional Release
Sometimes, when the body feels that safety, it doesn’t just release physical tension. It lets go of emotion that’s been stored in the tissues. That can show up as:- images or visions
- waves of feeling
- tears, shaking, warmth, heaviness
- or a deep calm that feels different from ordinary relaxation
I’m not a therapist or bodyworker, and I won’t pretend to explain this like one.
What I can say is that lying on that table, in absolute stillness, my body showed me a theatre and a version of myself not on stage — and it felt like something important was being released without a single word.
After: Tired, Heavy, Quiet
When the session ended, I didn’t hop off the table energized.
I felt heavy.
Grounded.
Sleepy in a way that felt deeper than “I stayed up too late.”
It was like I’d done three things at once:
- taken a nap,
- had a cry I couldn’t quite remember,
- and gone through a meditation I hadn’t consciously started.
From the outside, I probably just looked like someone walking out of a massage clinic.
Inside, things were quieter. Not fixed. Not magically healed. Just… down a notch. As if someone had gently turned the volume knob of my nervous system slightly to the left.
Why This Matters to Me
Most of my attempts at healing have been cognitive:
Read the book.
Talk it out.
Understand the pattern.
Name the feeling.
Build the plan.
And there’s value in all of that.
But this experience reminded me of something I keep forgetting:
Not everything can be resolved in the mind.
Some things have to move through the body.
On that table, there were no clever words. No structured exercises. No performance.
Just stillness. Touch. Breath.
And an image of myself not being “on” for once.
It felt like a message from somewhere deeper than my thoughts:
“You don’t have to carry all of this alone in your head. The body is part of this story too.”
If This Resonates With You
If you’ve been living in your head for a long time — managing, analyzing, coping, thinking your way through everything — and your body feels like it’s always on high alert, here’s a small invitation:
Right now, as you read this:
- Notice one part of your body — jaw, shoulders, chest, stomach.
- Ask, gently: “What are you holding that I haven’t been listening to?”
- You don’t need an answer today. Just the question is a start.
And if you ever feel curious about something like CST — or any safe body-based work — maybe let yourself explore it. Not as a miracle fix. Not as a replacement for therapy or support.
Just as another way of listening
to the quiet places inside you
that have been carrying more than you realize.
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