My Fat Neurodivergent Reflexology Experience

As I lay on the table quietly sobbing, the question I wanted to ask was, “Do you find my body disgusting?” So I asked her.

I'm on a mission to connect more deeply with my body. To heal the relationship I have with it. To tune into its wisdom.

For a long time I’ve wondered, is it poor interoception? A long-practiced habit of switching off? Or maybe even dissociation?

I have a theory that all of us, neurotypicals included, learn to shut down the signals from our bodies at a young age. As babies, we cry when we have a need. If we have attuned caregivers, those needs get met.

But soon, we’re asked to compromise.

“No, you can’t take your socks off.” “Yes, you have to wear that itchy uniform.” “School is noisy, bright and overwhelming. Too bad.”

So we switch it off. We shut it down.

Now I’m 46, living in a super fat body, because for years I used food to keep myself quiet, soothed and disconnected.

Getting diagnosed with ADHD and realising I’m Autistic started a new journey. I began to notice how often I’ve been angry with my body, how often I’ve betrayed it. Honestly, I’d have preferred to just be a brain in a jar.

When I feel pain, I get angry. When I need the loo, I’m annoyed. When I get too hot, I get irritable. Bodies are full of useful signals, but for neurodivergent people, those signals can feel extra complicated.

As part of reconnecting with my body, I decided to try reflexology. I love having my feet massaged, and I figured it would be a manageable way to experience touch. No need to get naked. Bonus points if I found someone who also did head massage.

Living in a fat body means I have to do more prep than most. I can’t just turn up to a space and assume I’ll fit in. I wish I could, but that’s not the reality.

So I emailed a few reflexologists. I wrote:

Dear Reflexologist,

I’m looking to have regular foot or head treatments. I’m very stressed and disconnected from my body and would like to change that.

I’m looking for someone who has a treatment chair, not a treatment table. As a plus-size person with painful knees, I can’t keep my legs straight for long periods of time. Some tables don’t work for me.

Do you think you’d be able to help? If so, can you tell me more about your treatments?

Lizzie replied warmly. She told me about her holistic approach, her flexibility in adapting sessions, and her experience with head, neck and shoulder massage. She said, “Ultimately it is your treatment and it should be a place of relaxation and calm.”

On the consultation form, I shared a bit about my neurodivergence, but I didn’t expect it to be a problem. I’m generally fine with intentional touch, and I figured I’d speak up if anything came up.

On the day of our first session, I arrived completely dysregulated. Road closures and diversions had made me late, and by the time I got there I was overwhelmed.

Then I cried because I couldn’t fit comfortably in the treatment chair. But Lizzie stayed calm and grounded. She gently suggested we try the massage table and reassured me it would hold my weight.

I got on, nervous. Would the legs buckle? Would I break it?

It was fine.

My nervous system began to settle. I relaxed. I received a gentle, grounding reflexology treatment.

The second time, we added in head, neck and shoulder work. I hold a lot of tension in that area. I’d also hurt my hip playing at the driving range with my son, so she worked on that too, over my clothes.

At the third session, Lizzie asked if I wanted her to work on my legs.

And my whole nervous system froze.

I can cope with feet, head, neck, shoulders, hands and arms. Even my hip. But my legs?

My unshaven, fat legs?

I’m always aware of how my body is viewed by the world. I know how disgusted people can be by bodies like mine. You can’t be fat and not know that. You can’t be a fat woman online and not see the daily barrage of abuse in the comment sections of anyone who dares to be fat and exist loudly.

And yet, I’ve worked hard to build a different relationship with my body. I’ve found fat positive spaces, fat liberation voices, and a sense of deep pride. I know I’m worthy of joy, of comfort, of care, even in this body.

But in that moment, a stranger was touching my body. And I found myself wondering, is she judging me?

So I asked.

“I find myself wanting to ask you if you find my body disgusting?”

And even though I didn’t know what she’d say, the asking itself was the point. I didn’t betray myself. I honoured what I was feeling.

Lizzie’s response was gentle and affirming. She told me she works with all kinds of bodies. That she respects them. That she enjoys working with them. And in her line of work, being up close with bodies, she has only grown in that respect.

My nervous system exhaled. I relaxed again.

These treatments are helping my body, yes. But they’re helping something deeper, too.

Reconnecting with my body and its ancient wisdom is a necessary, complicated, beautiful journey.

One day, I’ll tell you about my experience at a queer body movement workshop.

P.S - Dear reflexologists. If you are happy working on fat neurodivergent bodies, I strongly suggest putting something like an accessibility statement on your website inviting us in.

Relaxed Aims, post-massage, with oily hair

Connect with me https://www.autistictherapistdirectory.com/autistic-supervisor-listings/aims-walters www.ethicalsupervision.com

https://www.linkedin.com/in/supervisionwithaims/ https://adhdcoachingservices.co.uk/