Cranial Sacral Therapy & The Dignity of the Human Person (Pt. 1)

Several weeks ago I had an experience that caused me to flashback to the 1st time I was raped. I'm ready to write about portions of the experience, especially what I've learned about the trigger & how this whole experience relates to being a faithful Catholic. I don't want to identify the other person involved so please forgive the somewhat tortured use of language - writing w/o personal pronouns is difficult. Regarding comments, please remember, this is a Catholic blog. I ask those who want to leave comments referring to Cranial Sacral Therapy (CST) to limit themselves to the Church's teachings on New Age practices which can be found in the Papal Encyclical, Jesus Christ the Bearer of the Water of Life (JCBWL). Those who want a CST blog need only search the web to find a great many.


I've discovered my 1st issue is delineating what happened & giving some initial thought to the other person involved. How do I respond to someone who knew my story, knew the horrors I faced in my childhood, had also experienced similar horrors, was, I thought, a very dear friend & yet chose to try to force memories from me?

My friend presented cranial sacral therapy (CST) as a gentle massage technique that helps engage the parasympathetic nervous system. One thing the parasympathetic nervous system does is allow us to enter deep relaxation & deep relaxation aids healing. Before I began sessions, I researched the parasympathetic nervous system & read a book about CST,  Your Inner Physician by Dr. John Upledger. The book raised some serious questions. Upledger sees CST as a way to access what he calls "the inner physician." My friend found the idea attractive & on some levels it is but it's also wrong. We talked about it a couple of times & I insisted that all healing comes from God. God has fashioned our bodies to participate in His work of healing & has given some people knowledge & talents that allow them to participate in His work but He has not given us an "inner physician" that when accessed will tell practitioners of CST how to heal our bodies. My friend agreed that healing comes from God & told me that practitioners of CST don't exactly know how or why it works. That didn't bother me because my doctors don't know how much of the medication I take works.

Another issue for me is that I don't like being touched in certain places. We're not talking about private areas, just places that feel weird when touched. My friend was happy not to touch me on those areas & though I had some other concerns, they were so vague, I didn't know how to express them & I thought all was well. Given that my friend & I seemed to be on the same page in terms of being faithful to Church teaching & this was a dear friend whom I trusted, I thought we could address any other issues when I had the words to express them.

After a few sessions of CST, my rheumatologist felt the fibromyalgia was improving & that my left knee, which has damage from rheumatoid arthritis as well as years of dancing, was better. I told several friends in DC about CST & how it was helping me & they were thrilled. Then my financial situation changed as did my friend's schedule & essentially, a couple of months passed w/o any CST sessions.

I kept asking my friend to get together so we could dance & then one day, my friend asked me to be a guinea pig to try out what had been recently taught in a workshop. We decided to get together, eat, dance & then have a CST session. During the 1st part of the session while working on my left thigh, my friend, told me I had some "congestion" in the thigh. The muscles were twitching. My friend asked if it twitched on other occasions & since I had experienced occasional twitching in that thigh, I affirmed it had. Throughout the time of working on my left leg, my friend spoke to me about what was happening. As my friend worked on my leg, I experienced a disturbing series of images: I was watching young children playing in what seemed to be huge, spent cartridge shells - so huge, a child was able to climb inside. They were on the edge of a garbage heap; the image reminded me of the favelas in Brazil. Suddenly, a jeep drove up & a blond man of Nordic appearance wearing fatigues & a leather cowboy-type hat shot the children. Blood, flowing from the cartridges, covered the ground; I knew the children were dead. I also knew I had never personally experienced anything of the sort & thought it was based on my awareness of Brazil's history of killing street children. It never occurred to me to wonder why those images arose at that moment.

Then my friend moved to work on my head & began pressing against it. Almost immediately my friend asked if I was okay. I replied, yes. At that moment, I was okay. My friend kept pressing & pressing. I felt my hair being gathered up & pushed aside as if my friend was trying to get to my scalp. As I used my hands to cover the part of my shoulders that I didn't want touched, my elbows were bent. All of a sudden, my arms began shaking uncontrollably like the beating of a hummingbird's wings & then I was reliving the 1st time I was raped when I was 4 years old.

Previously, in therapy, I had explored memories of the rape. Memory is odd. It has dimension just as time & space do. My previous memories were akin to viewing a 2D picture. That night, my friend "upgraded" me to 3D, even 4D memories. As my friend continued to press my head & my arms continued to beat uncontrollably & I kept reliving the rape, I wanted to say stop but my mouth wouldn't speak. Finally, I said something such as, I'm not doing very well here. I recall "my friend's" voice - silky, enticing, icky - asking me if I wanted to stop. It made no sense that "my friend" would ask me such a question. Why didn't "my friend" just stop? I finally pushed out the word, YES. "My friend" stopped, finally. Then that silky, icky voice was asking me if there were any memories I wanted to share. My arms continued to beat uncontrollably, the images that had been triggered continued to play in my mind & heart, I was so cold I felt I'd never be able to get warm & "my friend" was asking me if I wanted to share memories?! It was bizarre! Absolutely bizarre! I said no to sharing memories & asked for blankets. I wanted to know why my arms were shaking & didn't stop. "My friend" said something about memories. Then, "my friend" told me of feeling "resistance" in my head. But "my friend" had not mentioned resistance while actually pressing my head. I wanted this person out of my house. I went into fight or flight mode, became really nice (though I wanted to hurt "my friend"). I said & did whatever was necessary to appear normal so "my friend" would leave. When I was alone, I curled up in fetal position under a blanket & watched a video until I was finally able to sleep.

The next day, the 4D memories wouldn't stop. I didn't know what was happening to me. "My friend" & I were both at a social occasion. I had tried to walk across the room so we could speak & felt as if I'd hit a wall. Suddenly, I was utterly fatigued & in a great deal of pain. I asked another friend for a ride home. That evening, I called friends in DC & learned I was having serious flashbacks (I'd never experienced anything so horrid). One friend told me she had wanted to warn me about CST but hadn't because it seemed to be helping. I told her that in the future, she was to warn me. After explaining what was happening to me, she suggested I search for "CST + new age." When I did, page after page appeared; I couldn't read them at the time. On several occasions, that 1st week, I tried talking to "my friend" & simply couldn't; I felt happy when I missed a phone call. Following the suggestion of another friend, I sent "my friend" an email saying the CST had triggered flashbacks & I wasn't able to talk now. I avoided going out & spent most of my time hiding under a blanket on the sofa. On Saturday, close friends were celebrating their daughter's birthday. I went to the party since it would force me to go out & buy groceries (I kept putting it off 'til I hadn't any food left). Being around so many people hurt. I wanted to scream. After a few minutes, I left to get groceries & returned home. At Mass, the next day, I begged God to help me - I hadn't cried; I couldn't cry. I began to sob & sob. That day, I discovered I could be around 1 or 2 close friends but crowds were out. Later that week, I learned there are some people I'm just not comfortable being around & I have no idea why. During a "Fortnight for Freedom" homily, I ran out of the church because the homilist was graphically describing episodes from the time of the Cristeros war. A week later, I demanded a friend stop relating similar graphic scenes.

Over the past few weeks, I've gone from a basket case to a bit better. Since seeing a therapist may be a valid possibility, I asked for help finding someone. Thus far, I've seen him twice. He said it's sad that I'm not speaking w/ "my friend" & I agreed at the time. But after giving it some thought, I'm not so sure it is sad. Had "my friend" felt "resistance," told me about it, explained what it might mean & what might happen, if I had then given permission to continue & experienced flashbacks as a result, it would be sad because I would have chosen to take the risk. But I wasn't given an opportunity to choose. I don't think that's the way friends behave.

I realize I'm relieved not to talk w/ "my friend." I feel as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I now know CST is extremely dangerous but I haven't the energy to try to convince "my friend." Oh, eventually I'll talk w/ "my friend." I'll even refer "my friend" to information on why CST is so dangerous & in opposition to the teachings of the Catholic Church. Right now, I'm recovering from an infection & then there's a course of chemo to undergo. Life is already filled w/ responsibilities. I'd be foolish to add more.

*****
In part 2, I plan to write more about the dangers of CST, how it's opposed to Church teaching & the ways practitioners fail to respect the dignity of the human person.