Counting the costs of caring

by Michelle Bautista

It was professional development reflection time again for me recently.

As remedial massage therapists, we’re asked to gather evidence of our learning every year: certificates, courses, notes, workshops. I’ve done this many times before but each year it stirs up something deeper than simply recording what I’ve learned.

As I looked back over my PD records this year, I found myself reflecting, not just on the past 12 months, but on almost 15 years of practice. Fifteen years of learning, treating people and, if I’m honest, 15 years of asking myself some version of the same question:

Can I keep doing this?

Not because I don’t love it. I do. Immeasurably.

For almost 15 years, this work has occupied a corner of my mind nearly every day. I think about clients, treatment approaches, things I’ve learned, and things I could do better. I think about how to help people more effectively. I care about this work, probably more than is practical at times.

Seeing the person, not the shoulder

The longer I work in this profession, the more I love the parts of it that can’t easily be measured: the trust, the conversations, the privilege of meeting someone where they are on a particular day, and the moment a person finally relaxes or feels heard or realises they don’t have to carry everything alone.

People rarely arrive with only a sore neck or a tight lower back. They come carrying stress, grief, burnout, financial pressure, family responsibilities, uncertainty … all the other things that come with being human. The more experience I gain, the less I see a sore shoulder, a tight lower back, or an unhappy nerve.

I see a person.

And maybe that’s where the balance gets tricky, because caring deeply is a beautiful thing but it can be costly.

What are the costs?

I’ve done the business courses and listened to advice about growth, scaling, hiring, and expansion. Some therapists have built incredible businesses, and I genuinely admire what they’ve created. Sometimes it makes me wonder if I should have done things differently.

But the reality is that I’ve built my business largely on my own, alongside raising a family, navigating my own health challenges, and the unexpected disruptions life inevitably brings.

One-on-one treatment is still the part of the work I love most but it’s also the part that is hardest to scale.

There have been too many years where my overheads were larger than my income; where professional association fees were paid later than I would have liked; where I couldn’t justify booking a massage for myself despite spending my days encouraging others to prioritise their wellbeing.

I know I’m not alone in that. And it’s not because we’re failing but rather because many of us running businesses in the helping professions are trying to balance competing realities at the same time. When I look at the cost of living, the realities of running a small business, and the uncertainty so many people seem to be feeling right now, I wonder how other practitioners are ensuring that their business is sustainable.

How do people keep doing this? Will I be able to keep doing this? If so, how? What else do I need to try, do, or change?

Despite the setbacks and detours, plans that didn’t work out, seasons of growth, and many hard seasons spent simply scrambling for sustainability, I can’t really imagine having done things any other way. Somehow, I keep coming back …

What this past year brought

My PD reflections bring their own reminders: rebranding from Pure Treatments Massage Clinic to Mind Body and Balance Massage, setting up new clinic spaces, welcoming new clients, receiving kind reviews, forming new relationships, and exploring creative projects that I’m still figuring out.

I’ve thought about postgraduate study for years. I’m drawn to ideas around whole-person wellbeing, integrative healthcare, and the ways we can help people access the support they need throughout their lives. I love learning, sharing what I learn, and contributing in whatever small way I can to healthcare that feels more human, collaborative, and accessible.

The one thing I know for certain is that I will always love being a massage therapist. I feel grateful this is the work I get to do. And I know I don’t need a postgraduate degree to make a meaningful difference in the lives of others.

I’m still asking

Despite my passion for being a massage therapist, I find myself wondering whether passion is enough to make the work sustainable. I really hope so.

And each year, especially when professional development reflections are due, I find myself returning to the same question:

How do we keep doing work we care deeply about while also taking care of ourselves?

I don’t have the answer. But if you’re another practitioner asking the same question, you’re certainly not alone.

About the author

Michelle Bautista is the founder of Mind Body and Balance Massage in Sydney and has been a remedial massage therapist for more than 15 years. She is passionate about treating the whole person, believing that healing extends beyond physical symptoms. Through her writing, Michelle hopes to encourage both therapists and clients with honesty, compassion and hope.