10/20/2026
Table Lessons with Sara Curtis: Trust and the therapeutic relationship
I recently had a session with a massage therapist I didn't know well. I knew they had years of experience and a solid reputation among my colleagues, so I went in with what I thought was an open mind.
The session started normally: a brief introduction, a few questions about my goals, and a confirmation of my current problem areas. But once the massage began, everything changed. The therapist seemingly disregarded our entire conversation - or perhaps they didn't hear a word I said.
I left the clinic feeling tense. By that evening, my body was remarkably tight, and my back hurt in a completely unfamiliar way. I had to resort to a hot shower and Tylenol just to get to sleep.
What was missing from the session I just had.
Would it have felt better if they had checked in, adjusted their pressure, positioned me differently for comfort, or simply listened to what I was trying to tell them? I felt unheard and instead, the session felt routine, uncomfortable, robotic, and complacent.
This experience forced me to deeply examine my own role in the therapeutic relationship.
If I had been on a colleague's table, would the outcome have been different? What is the difference between one therapist and the next and what did I not get during this session that I needed?
I have had plenty of sessions where the pressure wasn't perfect or the techniques weren't exactly what I expected. But after some reflection I realized the missing piece in this specific encounter: trust. I did not trust that therapist and because of that, I didn't feel empowered to speak up and I certainly did not feel like i could relax.
This realization hit me hard. If I, a seasoned therapist with nearly two decades of experience, hesitated to ask for what I needed, how can I expect the clients who cross my own table to feel safe?
How do we create a space genuinely filled with trust? In so many small ways and from the first time | connect with a client I am actively listening and trying to convey a feeling of safety. Trust is the ultimate foundation of the therapeutic relationship; without it, true physical healing is locked away.
When a client trusts a therapist, their brain registers safety. Only when we feel safe can our bodies move beyond a survival state to activate the parasympathetic nervous system —our state of rest, digestion, and repair. Guarded muscles can only relax when the brain feels safe. One cannot, will a nervous system to turn down the "volume".
As l write this reflection the voice of one of my mentors echoes "we cannot inflict healing". These words have shaped me as a therapist, and I often turn to it when I'm struggling to make progress with a client.
Ultimately, a client who feels safe is a client who speaks up immediately about pain or discomfort, a client who feels transforms the treatment from a robotic routine into a collaborative, healing experience. They participate in the healing process fully.
The session I had may have left me feeling like I needed something different, but I think what I learned the most from it was the very real importance of feeling safe in a session.
