12/01/2025
Fibromyalgia was one of my main reasons to become a massage therapist
The Quiet Symphony of Fibromyalgia and Myofascial Pain
Fibromyalgia and myofascial pain syndrome often arrive in the body like two quiet storms. They move through tissue, sensation, and the nervous system in ways that are deeply physical yet profoundly invisible. To the outside world, these clients may look “fine,” but inside, the body is whispering its overwhelm with every breath, every step, every night of unrefreshing sleep.
Science tells us that fibromyalgia is not a flaw of strength or willpower. It is a shift in how the nervous system processes sensation. The volume dial in the spinal cord and brain becomes turned too high, a phenomenon known as central sensitization. Functional MRI studies show that even gentle pressure lights up pain-processing centers more intensely than in neurotypical bodies. Some clients also show small-fiber neuropathy, tiny peripheral nerves within fascia and skin firing more rapidly or inconsistently than they should. The result is a body that becomes hyper-attuned to touch, temperature, movement, and emotion. A body that reads too much, too fast, with too little recovery.
Myofascial pain syndrome, meanwhile, often begins within the tissue itself. Taut bands, trigger points, and oxygen-deprived fascial pockets become tight, guarded, and overly reactive. These areas send constellations of referred pain across the body. Chemical changes within trigger points alter pH, blood flow, and nerve firing. And when enough of these regions stay active for long enough, the nervous system becomes overwhelmed as well, and the entire picture begins to resemble fibromyalgia.
This is why so many clients drift between labels. Why their symptoms do not fit neatly into a single box. In truth, these conditions share pathways, amplify one another, and often coexist in the same tender, exhausted system.
For bodyworkers, this means our work is not about chasing knots. It is about tending to an ecosystem. Every stroke we offer becomes a message to a sensitized nervous system: “You are safe. You can soften. You do not have to guard everything.” Slow, broad contact helps soothe Ruffini endings. Gentle myofascial spreading reduces local nociception. Craniosacral holds, diaphragmatic softening, and vagus-aware techniques help invite a shift from sympathetic vigilance to parasympathetic rest. Even oscillation or subtle traction can bring clarity back to tissues that feel thick, congested, or disorganized.
Many clients with these diagnoses also carry autonomic dysregulation. Their heart rate fluctuates. They may overheat or freeze easily. Their digestion slows. Their sleep collapses into fragments. The body hovers between fight, flight, and collapse because it is tired of trying to keep up. This is where your steady presence matters. Predictable rhythm, grounding touch, warm draping, weighted bolsters, dimmer lighting—each becomes a lifeline that signals to the brain that it can quiet the internal alarms.
And then there is the emotional piece. People with fibromyalgia and myofascial pain have been dismissed more than nearly any other group. Their pain is real, yet they are often told it is “just stress,” “just hormones,” “just anxiety.” When we listen without minimizing, when we name their symptoms with accuracy and compassion, we are already helping the nervous system unwind. Safety is biochemical. Validation is an intervention.
Think of it this way: fascia is the instrument, the nervous system is the soundboard, and the brain is the composer trying to interpret the music of a life that has been too loud for too long. These conditions do not mean the body is broken. They mean the orchestra needs gentler acoustics and a different kind of conductor.
As bodyworkers, we do not force harmony. We offer resonance. We help retune what has become dissonant. We create a space where pain can soften enough for the person beneath it to breathe again.
And little by little, with steady hands and a nervous system that knows how to hold another, the body begins to remember its music.
