What is trauma-informed massage?

It is tending. A practice of returning to the body… not to fix, but to inhabit more fully. Trauma-informed massage, as I offer it, is not a technique, but a way of being in relationship—with you, with your nervous system, with the sacred intelligence of your body. It’s built on slowness, consent, deep listening, and the belief that healing is not about making anything go away, but about making space for what is here.

Every session is co-created. There is no agenda. No one-size-fits-all protocol. Only the question: What do you need to experience today? We begin there.

Some days, that might mean stillness. Other days, deep pressure. Or long silence. Or tending only to your feet.

You choose the pace. You set the tone. I will follow your body’s lead.

You are welcome to ask for anything that helps you feel more safe, more at home:

– more communication, or less
– changes to pressure, speed, or rhythm
– shifts in where or how touch is offered
– adjustments to lighting, temperature, or music
– or the option to pause or stop at any time, for any reason

Your no is holy here.
Your boundaries are not obstacles. They’re portals to deeper trust.

This work does not replace therapy, and I do not offer psychological treatment. What I can offer is the honoring of what your body remembers. A place to soften. A moment of belonging. A ritual of reverence for the life that lives inside your skin.

And, if you are simply longing for a place to exhale…
to be met with care, not correction…
to be touched with consent, not control…
this is a space for that.

A quiet sanctuary for the parts of you still learning they are safe to exist.

For more information, you may listen to my talk on Trauma-Informed Massage Therapy.


**If you are walking through active crisis or acute trauma, I invite you to consider resourcing yourself through additional support. I can share a list of trauma-attuned mental health providers in the Casper area if you feel called to that. You are not alone.

Here are some additional local and national support resources.

What is your consent practice?

Here, consent is not just about saying “yes” or “no.” It is about listening. Honoring. Slowing down. It’s about creating conditions where your knowing can emerge and be welcomed without question.

Before we begin, I will ask what you’re carrying. What you need. What feels possible. I will ask if there are places your body is not ready to be touched today. I will ask about your preferences—pressure, pace, presence. And then, we follow the aliveness of the moment, making adjustments as we go.

I may ask if I can dim the lights. Or if a warm compress would feel supportive. I may describe a method I’d like to try and wait for your answer. I may offer a pause. A breath. A question. A silence.

I will orient your body to my touch gently, laying a hand with presence before beginning to work. If verbal cues are more helpful for you than physical ones, you are welcome to ask. Your sensory boundaries will be met with care.

Consent also includes me: my ability to hold limits with integrity, to decline what would stretch beyond the scope of this work. Mutuality matters. You don’t have to protect me from your needs, and I won’t burden you with mine. We will practice being human together.

If something doesn’t feel right, please tell me.
Too deep, too light, too fast, too much, please tell me.
If you change your mind mid-session, or realize something isn’t working, you are not "being difficult." You are being wise. And I will honor your wisdom.

This is not a place where you must endure. Not a place where you must perform politeness while betraying your body. You do not have to get it perfect. You only have to be open to discovering what you need in real time, and be honest about it.

What kind of massage do you offer?

I offer massage as ritual, as an act of reverence, a way of midwifing your return to body, to presence, to the part of you that remembers you belong to yourself.

My touch is never casual. Before I place hands, I listen. To your breath. To your intention. To the truth beneath your words. To the quiet language of your body.

Each session is shaped by need, not by protocol; and yet, it always begins with a threshold. An arrival. A moment of opening. There is rhythm and sequence, and following what’s alive. I move symbolically and intuitively… not just to address pain, but to speak to the soul of what hurts.

This is not treatment work. It’s a re-membering of what has been scattered, severed, silenced. We’re bringing the body back together.

My strokes are circular, spiraling, dance-like, because it’s the oldest pattern of return. The way water moves around stone. The way air rustles through trees. The was fire undulates. The way the body says yes to integration.

The qualities I offer:
grounded presence, slow strength, rhythmic grace.

Deep tissue, clinical and sports massage aren’t on the menu. The forms I practice are Swedish, Manual Lymphatic Drainage (MLD), Hot Stone, and Prenatal Massage. All offered not as “modalities,” but as languages of touch.

You will be held in a sensory cocoon. Warm towels, weighted blankets, softened light or deepest dark, aroma chosen with care, sound selected to soothe or stir, each element curated as altar.

We create sanctuary here. Not escape, but a place where you can meet yourself more fully, and be met with presence in return.

This is massage as ritual.
And you are the sacred one at its center.

Do I have to be completely undressed?

Absolutely not. You never have to undress beyond what feels right in your body.

Many people choose to remove clothing to allow for oil-based massage, which helps prevent skin drag and allows for certain styles of touch; but your comfort and sense of safety is more important than any technique I might use.

Massage can be received through light clothing. Touch can be nourishing with or without skin contact. There are always options. There is no “right” amount of undressing. Only what allows you to soften, breathe, and feel most at home in yourself.

If you wear a bra and choose to keep it on, I’ll check in. Sometimes straps get in the way. If that’s the case, I’ll gently ask whether you’d like to unhook it, or if you’d prefer I work under or around it. We will do what feels best to you, together.

Throughout your session, you will be draped with care— sheet and blanket covering your body in a way that feels secure but not confining. Only the area I’m tending to will be uncovered at any time. If you discover that you prefer to remain covered in certain places, or if you like the sensation of touch through the sheet or blanket, just let me know. If you want the draping adjusted (away from your collarbone, off your neck, gathered looser or more snug) just say the word. Or, move it yourself.

Your private areas will never be exposed. That boundary is sacred and absolute.

If you prefer a fully clothed session, you are welcome to request one. You might come in comfortable layers and ask that I work only on your head, neck, shoulders, hands, or feet. This is your session. Your body. Your experience.

Nothing here will be forced or assumed. You get to lead. And I will follow with reverence.

What parts of my body will be massaged?

A typical full-body session might include care for your: back, arms, hips and glutes, legs, feet, hands, shoulders, neck, head, and face.

But there is no such thing as “typical” when it comes to your body. *You are the one who gets to decide what areas are included in your session, and what are not. If there are places you’d rather I avoid, you can let me know at any point, before or during the massage. You never need to justify or explain. Your “no” is enough. Always.

This is not just a massage—it’s a practice of connecting to and honoring your choice.

**Please note: I do not touch genitals, breast tissue, or the inside of the mouth. These boundaries are non-negotiable and rooted in ethical, legal, and trauma-informed standards of practice.

What should I do during the massage?

Nothing is required of you here. You are allowed to just be. You can breathe however your body breathes. You can soften into the table, or not. You can stay quiet, or speak. You can move, shift, adjust. You can rest, feel, dissociate, return.

If you’re able, allow yourself to be supported by the table, by the room, by my hands. Let the weight of your limbs be held. Let your breath find its own way, deepening when it’s ready.

Throughout the session, I may gently guide your body: lifting a foot, turning a hand, tilting your head. You don’t have to anticipate or perform. If something needs to change, say so. We will adjust.

What if I cry during the massage?

Tears are welcome here.

Sometimes, when tension softens or old stories surface, the body weeps, sighs, shivers, twitches, laughs. Sometimes nothing happens at all… and that, too, is holy.

If you cry, I may quietly check in to be sure you feel safe, and offer you a tissue. I will not pry. I will not interpret. I will not coach or counsel. I will not try to fix it.

You are allowed to share or stay silent. You are allowed to feel, to not know why, to need nothing from me but presence.

I will be right here.

What if I’m feeling self-conscious about my body?

You are not alone in that. So many of us have been taught to mistrust or judge the very bodies we live in.

Please know: I work with real human bodies. Bodies that are soft and scarred, aged and aching, asymmetrical, bloated, bony, bruised, tattooed, lopsided, hairy, stretch-marked, genderqueer, postpartum, ill, healing. All sacred.

I do not see problems to be critique and correct. I see people to be honored.

That said: I do appreciate if you’re able to bathe beforehand and wear deodorant—basic care for both of us in close proximity.

Your body does not need to earn the right to be tended to. You are already worthy of care.

What if I dissociate, become overstimulated, or feel done with being touched?

This, too, is part of the territory. The body remembers. The nervous system protects. Sometimes, it’s all just too much.

If something shifts in you… if you drift, shut down, go numb, feel overwhelmed, or sense your body pulling back from contact, please know it’s okay.

If you can, let me know what you’re feeling. You might say something like:

• “Pause.”

• “That’s too much.”

• “I need a break.”

• “Can you just hold my feet?”

• “Can we stop?”

You don’t need to explain. You don’t need to make sense of it. You don’t even need words. If speaking feels out of reach, you can make a sound, a gesture, a shift in body. I will usually notice and respond by slowing down and checking in.

I can move to a different part of the body. I can step back. I can offer stillness and anchoring.

You are allowed to feel done. You are allowed to change your mind. You are allowed to need something different partway through.
This is not an interruption. This is wisdom. This is the work.

I’ve never had a massage and don’t know if I’ll like it, but I want to try. What is your approach?

You don’t need to know how to receive touch. You only need to be curious and willing to begin.

We will start from exactly where you are, together.

I will follow your cues and only touch the areas you are open to receiving contact. You can leave on or remove whatever clothing helps you feel most safe and comfortable. We will build trust not in theory, but in practice… moment by moment, breath by breath.

If anything feels uncomfortable, overstimulating, or even just ticklish, let me know. We can adjust pressure, pace, and technique. I can use broader contact, slow my movements, invite your breath to anchor you. You can even place your hand on my arm as I work, to help your body feel more in control. We can experiment. We can listen. We can follow what feels good and stop when it doesn’t.

How will I feel after my massage?

Every body is different. Some people feel immediately relaxed, softened, slowed. Others feel alert and bright, newly alive. Some feel sleepy and tender. Others feel clear and strong.

You might notice emotions rise and fall.
You might notice relief from tension or pain.
You might just notice your breath for the first time in awhile.

Massage can bring you into deeper presence with yourself. And that presence can linger—sometimes for hours, sometimes for days.

How often should I come for a massage?

One session can offer a breath of relief. A sigh. A loosening. But something shifts when touch becomes a rhythm, not a rarity.

When you come regularly, your body learns it is safe to soften. Your nervous system learns the way back home. In the hands of a steady, attuned presence, healing takes root. Not through fixing, but through relating. And not just to me, but to your own flesh, your own breath, your own becoming.

So, come as you feel called.

Are there any medical conditions that would make massage or bodywork inadvisable?

Yes. There are times when massage may not be safe or appropriate.

Before your first session, I’ll ask some general health questions. Please share any conditions you’re living with, any injuries past or present, and any medications you’re taking. All of this helps me care for you well.

If you’re under a doctor’s care, it’s wise to consult with them before booking bodywork. Some conditions require adaptation. Others are contraindicated altogether. Our work begins with honesty, clarity, and collaboration.

How can I book and pay for my service?

You can schedule your appointment by clicking here.

Payment is collected at the time of service through the front desk. Credit or debit card, cash, and Venmo are accepted.

Why do you need an intake form before the first session?

Your intake form is more than paperwork—it’s an opening.

It helps me learn about your history, your health, and your hopes for our time together. It helps me understand what your body has carried, and what it still might be holding. It helps us begin with informed consent: where care is not just given, but co-created.

Do you offer home visits? 

No. At this time, I do not offer massage outside the studio. My work is rooted in place… in a space crafted with intention. Here, the room itself becomes part of the ritual. Here, we are held.