“Save Me from This Therapist”

“Save Me from This Therapist”

When Therapy Hurts – and Still Carries Hope

This morning, Tobias had speech therapy and occupational therapy as an interdisciplinary session. That means both therapists work together so Tobias can learn to speak louder while moving.

During the transfer, this is anything but easy. Tobias still lacks full core strength. I watch the therapists closely. The occupational therapist works very deeply into the muscles — and it hurts a lot. Tobias complains loudly and calls out to me:

“Mother, save me from this woman!”

I start wondering whether the overstimulation over the weekend and on Monday might be connected to his pain center — memories from 2021 and 2022 resurface. I want to step in immediately, but I hesitate. Stretching and mobilizing like this must hurt terribly. He cries and complains — and that breaks a mother’s heart.

For a moment, I ask myself whether it is even acceptable to cause this much pain in patients like Tobias. I am not the expert, so at first I decide to trust the professionals and plan to emotionally catch Tobias right after therapy.

No — of course I couldn’t wait that long.

Otherwise, I would have been like the participants in the Milgram experiment (Yale University, early 1960s). In that study, “teachers” were instructed by an authority figure to administer what they believed were electric shocks to a “student.” Many turned the dial higher and higher — not because they themselves would have suffered otherwise, but because they were obedient, under pressure, and intimidated by the situation.
(I hope I’m remembering this correctly.)

I asked our therapist to reduce the intensity, to apply more sensitivity because of Tobias’ developed pain trauma. He probably could have endured it without drama — but there is no reason to cross boundaries here.

In neurology, in my experience, less is often more. 🙂

Of course, it is clear that if Tobias’ muscles respond better to pressure and movement, his body awareness will improve as well. And perception is enormously important in his case. Why?

If I don’t feel my arm or my fingers, how am I supposed to know how to move them?

An example:
I touch the index finger on Tobias’ left hand and ask him which finger I touched. He thinks and says, “Little finger.”
He perceives the touch — but cannot correctly locate it.
On his right hand, this is no problem at all. There is no sensory impairment there.

And honestly — how many of us truly have full awareness of our bodies?

Have you ever gently stroked your cheek for a full minute? Try it. Does it feel unpleasant? No. It feels unfamiliar — but good. It feels safe.

These are important kinds of touch that help us learn to feel our bodies. We are so distracted — by digital devices and by everything the world wants to feed us — that we often forget our bodies. The more we perceive ourselves, the more we can help ourselves, instead of relying on the touch of others.

And by “others,” I also mean therapies — they are incredibly valuable. And yet, sometimes we are allowed to trust ourselves a little more, to trust our own bodies. Because it is intentional movement and relaxation that help us remove obstacles.

If Tobias could feel his body more clearly, it would be easier for him to adjust himself into a better, more comfortable position: to stretch, to lengthen, to regulate. That is our long-term goal.

And for that reason, pain in therapy may not always be avoidable — so that, in the long run, Tobias can feel less pain in his body.

So what is a good ending for this blog?

Nothing comes from nothing.
Trauma returns when we don’t reconnect with ourselves.
We are good as we are.

Let yourself be helped — and help those who cannot help themselves right now.
Be kind to yourself.
Trust yourself and the people in your life.
Trust life.

With love,
Katja, Tyler, and Tobias