FHT Member Elizabeth Bandeen tells us about the impact therapy has had on her life, aged 56
There’s a lovely myth that by the time we reach our fifties, things should start slowing down. Careers settle, ambitions soften, and we’re supposed to feel as though all the big changes are behind us. I can say with complete honesty: that isn’t my story at all. At 56, I feel more energised, more creative and more connected to my work than ever before. In many ways, it feels as though I’ve stepped into a completely new chapter — one that I didn’t even see coming.
For years, my focus has been stress reduction and muscular injury treatment. These are the foundations of my practice and the skills that shaped me as a therapist. Over time, something else grew alongside them: intuition. That quiet sense, built through countless sessions, where your hands communicate as much as your voice does.
Yet even with all that experience, there came a point when I realised I needed something fresh to reignite the spark. Not because I’d lost passion — but because I wanted to expand what I could offer, both to my clients and to myself.
So I went back to learning. And that’s where Manual Lymphatic Drainage entered my life.
I’ll admit, MLD wasn’t what I expected. It’s gentle, rhythmic and deeply calming — almost meditative to give and to receive. What surprised me most is how profoundly it affects the nervous system. Watching clients melt into the table, drifting into that rare state of “total switch-off,” reminded me why I started this career in the first place. MLD didn’t just give me a new skill; it rekindled my joy in learning, and it taught me that growth doesn’t have an age limit. There is nothing quite like realising that at 56, you can still feel completely revitalised by something new.
With this renewed curiosity came another shift: I began to trust myself more when blending modalities. I’ve always believed that no two people walk into a session with the same story, and no body responds in the same way twice. So instead of compartmentalising treatments, I now allow them to meet each other. A simple, thorough consultation sets the tone — nothing complicated, nothing overwhelming. I ask the right questions, but more importantly, I listen.
From there, the treatment becomes a crafted experience. Sometimes it’s MLD woven through a stress-relieving massage. Other times it’s a sculpting facial massage using beautiful locally made (in Glasgow!) organic skincare from Ermana, paired with a restorative back, neck and shoulder treatment. These combinations aren’t random; they’re thoughtful. They create balance — not just for the muscles or lymphatic system, but for the mind that carries the weight of daily life. Blending therapies isn’t confusing or messy when it’s done with intention. It’s craftsmanship. It’s using every tool, skill and insight you have to give someone exactly what their body and spirit are asking for.
What this new chapter has taught me is that clients don’t need endless treatment menus or overly complicated approaches. What they really want is presence.
They want a therapist who sees them that day, as they truly are — stressed, exhausted, hopeful, curious, hurting, healing. My aim now is simple: help them find balance. Create a space where the body can soften, the mind can quieten, and the nervous system can finally let go.
And this perspective has reshaped me just as much as it has reshaped my treatments.
There’s something empowering about reinventing yourself at an age when society doesn’t necessarily expect it. I’ve learned that passion evolves, and so do we. The joy I feel in my practice today is bigger, deeper and more grounded than ever before. I’m proof that it is never too late to shift direction, refine your craft, learn something new or rediscover what lights you up. If anything, mid-life might be the perfect time — you have the experience, the intuition and the confidence that only years of working with people can give you.
So here’s my message to fellow therapists, wherever you are in your journey: stay curious. Let your practice breathe and grow. Don’t be afraid to combine skills, explore new modalities, or follow the threads of inspiration that tug at you. You’re not starting again — you’re expanding. You’re evolving. And the more you evolve, the better you serve those who trust you with their wellbeing.
This second chapter of mine has been unexpected, fulfilling and deeply inspiring. And the best part? It still feels like the beginning of something wonderful.
To find out more about Elizabeth, visit her website elizabethbandeen.co.uk. You can also read her original piece here
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