Rolfing is weird. I know. And despite living approximately 27 miles from the worldwide epicenter of Rolfing (the Dr. Ida Rolf Institute in Boulder), I would say about 93% of the people I meet have never heard of Rolfing. Which means I spend a lot of time answering the question, “how’d you get into that?” So I’m going to lay it out.
When I was in high school I got really into alternative medicine. The western medical model of “something hurts; take a pill” just didn’t resonate with me and I got obsessively curious about other options. I decided, in my teenaged naïveté, that I was going to become the world’s best doctor when I grew up. And my plan for doing so, was to go to med school, then chiropractic school, then acupuncture school, then massage school, then reiki school, then Ayurvedic school, then nutrition school…I think you get the point. What I didn’t realize, in my teenaged naïveté is that, not only would I be several hundred years old by the time I finished all that schooling, and many hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt, but also absolutely no good at any of those modalities for healing, having only scratched the surface in all of them, but practiced none of them. So, not only would I not be the world’s best doctor, but I’d be the world’s worst doctor, and dead. Oops.
But, as I was still a teenager and still hadn’t realized the many flaws in my plan, I walked into my local chiropractor’s office and asked if I could have a job. Miraculously, he said yes, and I started working a few hours a week putting away vitamins and filing paperwork and occasionally following the doc around, learning what he could teach me about being a chiropractor. And at the time, I thought to myself, “Wow, this is really cool. But I don’t think I’m going to be a chiropractor.”
A few months later, I asked the local acupuncturist if I could work for her as well, and she was generous enough to agree. So I answered the phone and did the laundry and occasionally followed her around, learning what she could teach me about acupuncture. And I thought to myself, “Wow, this is really cool. But I don’t think I’m going to be an acupuncturist.”
And so a pattern was formed. I moved to Boulder to go to CU and during my freshman year there, I took an introduction to massage therapy class through the rec center. And I found that I really loved working with my hands. But I’d never experienced any lasting results from a massage. It never seemed to solve any problems. And so while I thought massage was really cool, I didn’t think I would become a massage therapist.
I ended up working for a chiropractor in Boulder and I remember one patient describing Rolfing to me, saying, “Imagine the deepest deep-tissue massage you’ve ever had; it’s deeper than that.” And I remember thinking, “Absolutely not. No thank you. That sounds terrible.”
A couple years later, after watching my best friend go to med school ahead of me and turn into a complete basket case of stress and anxiety, I thought to myself, I don’t know that med school is where I want to spend my time. I never really wanted to practice allopathic medicine in the first place and I didn’t think sacrificing the next 4-12 years of my sanity for a little background information seemed like a worthwhile trade.
After I left CU, I tried any alternative modality for healing I could get my hands on. I started seeing a therapist and loved therapy, but couldn’t see myself becoming a psychologist or social worker. I took some herbalism classes and really enjoyed working with plants, but couldn’t see myself as an herbalist. I tried shamanism and gong baths and drum circles and bio feedback and qi healers. I tried yoga and pilates and qi gong and ecstatic dance. And everything I tried, I thought, “Wow, this is really cool. But I don’t think this is my thing.”
At one point, I remember eating lunch in a Wahoo’s, sitting next to a couple of guys, one of whom had just come from a Rolfing session. He was explaining it to his friend as, “super deep and super intense, like they’re ripping your muscles off your bones.” And that was still a no from me, dawg.
Then, a dear friend of mine started receiving the Rolfing 10-series and I remember her coming to me and saying, “Theresa, I think you would really like Rolfing.” To which I responded, “Oh, I heard Rolfing hurts. No thanks. Not for me.”
So another year went by, and I was hiking with another close friend and she asked what weird healing thing I was trying these days, because my friends knew me and my tendencies towards fringe healing methods. I told her I was seeing a Chinese Five-Element healer, and while he was good, I didn’t think I was going to continue after my 6-session package was finished. It was cool, but not my thing, you know?
And she said, “You know the Rolf Institute is in Boulder, right? And you can receive sessions from a student there, during their training, right?” And my answer was that, no I had no idea, despite having lived in Boulder for 5 years. By this point in time, I’d tried so many other things that were painful; I figured a little more pain wouldn’t be so bad. So I told her, “If you do it, I’ll do it.”
The next day, she called the Rolf Institute and was told there were two spots open for models for their students in the class that was starting the following week. So she and I took those two spots. And a week later, we had our orientation up in Gunbarrel, where we sat in a room of maybe 50 people and were told where to park, and what to wear, and what to expect as we went through the Rolfing 10-series over the next five weeks.
At one point, the lead instructor for the class, the incomparable (though I didn’t know it at the time) Ray McCall, stood up in front of the group and addressed us all. He said, “I’ve been doing this work for 32 years. And everyone wants to know, is Rolfing going to fix my back, or fix my shoulder, or fix my knee? And after 32 years, I can tell you, I don’t know. But what I do know, is that Rolfing will make you more you.”
Well. The hairs on my arms stood up straight and a chill went down my spine. I wanted to be more me! I thought to myself, “This is it! This is the thing I’ve been looking for!” And then I told myself to take a breath and calm down, because I still hadn’t even experienced one single minute of a Rolfing session yet.
But two days later, I had my first session of the 10-series. And while my student Rolfer had explained that the goal of the first session of the series was to “free the breath,” what she hadn’t told me was that I’d never taken a free breath in my life until that point. I had been completely unaware of how poorly I’d been breathing for 27 years until halfway through the session, when I could suddenly breathe into one lung with ease and depth and comfort, while the other was still restricted and limited and challenged. I was almost panicked in my desire to reach the end of the session when I would hopefully be able to breathe easily and well from not just one, but both of my lungs. My mind was blown. This was it. The thing I’d spent more than a decade searching for.
I had committed to 10 sessions in five weeks with this student Rolfer and I tried to convince myself that before I quit my job and changed my whole life to become a Rolfer, I should finish those nine remaining sessions, and then make a sane and rational decision. But then I had the second session, on the lower legs and feet, and I remember sitting up afterwards, looking down at the feet connected to the ends of my legs and I didn’t recognized those feet. I kept thinking, “Those aren’t my feet. That’s not what my feet look like.” And then I stood up and felt the most stable, the most grounded, the most comfortable standing I’d ever experienced. And so it went, through the 10-series. Each session just kept rocking my world in both subtle and dramatic ways.
I made it to the seventh session before I walked into the admissions office and said, “What do I need to do? I’m going to become a Rolfer.” I was given an application to fill out and return and told I’d be added to the class list for the next available beginner module, which was starting in four months. And two days later, the admissions counselor called and said someone had dropped out of the class that was scheduled to start in two weeks. Any chance I’d want to take their spot? And just like that, I’d quit my job and was getting up at 5:30 every weekday to learn everything I could about anatomy and physiology and Dr. Rolf herself and how to work with fascia and healthy therapeutic relationships and boundaries.
My first day of class was the first time in my life I felt like I’d found my tribe. Sure, these people sitting barefoot in a circle were a random bunch of weirdos from all over the world, but they were my kind of weirdos. Despite our age range (23 to 60, I believe), and our varied histories (New York stock broker to Australian flight attendant to Canadian grandmother) we were all excited about healing and this one, very niche modality for achieving it. I felt like I was home.
16 months later, I graduated and became a Certified Rolfer and I’ve been living the dream ever since. I make my own schedule, get to work barefoot, and have the best clients in the whole wide world. I hope I never have to retire. This is the only job I’ve ever had that didn’t bore me to tears within six months. I feel so lucky to have (eventually) found it. And that, friend, is how I ended up as a Rolfer, instead of anything normal.
