Can you massage my legs?

No this isn’t a post about some sleazy massage parlour. This is a post about my son’s legs. They’re currently in an awful state for him.

My son likes to move. Actually, that’s not quite right — he needs to move. He recently got a fitbit for Christmas and at the last check he had done 32000 steps in one day – now I can believe he actually did that much but I can also believe that the step count is inflated because he is always moving and twitching. He is rarely still, and even when he looks still, there’s always a part of him that’s moving. Right now, that part is his legs. And it’s causing him quite considerable discomfort.

Over the years, we’ve had quite a few involuntary movements. They tend to follow the same pattern: they start quietly, build and build, peak dramatically… and then almost disappear. Around two years ago, he started crossing his fingers — constantly. Every time I looked at him, his fingers were crossed. I mentioned it casually once and he told me it made his arm feel “lovely”. I have hundreds of photos of him sitting there, fingers crossed, without a second thought.

Then came the nose twitch. This one was harder for him. It interfered with eating. He would twitch his nose up and down, sometimes so many times before taking a mouthful that meals became exhausting. It lasted a long while. I remember contacting the doctors because I was worried — really worried — and, as with so many things in this space, I was told to wait and see. Eventually it stopped. It does still appear now and then, but nothing like it was at its peak.

After that, we had the finger tapping. One finger to the thumb, one after another, on repeat. It escalated to the point where he struggled to hold anything because he had to complete the movement. As it began to fade, I noticed him almost trying to hold it in — which resulted in full arm movements instead.

And then there was the running in bed. This one traumatised me a little, though I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe because it was one of the strangest things I’d witnessed at that point.

There were nights when my son would be in his bed, meant to be settling to sleep, while I lay in mine waiting for that quiet moment. Instead, I’d hear thrashing — bedding rustling violently — as though he was running inside the bed. He would get extremely out of breath. It lasted around ten minutes at a time. The first time, I went to check what on earth was going on. What I found was my son flailing about like a salmon, full-body movement, breathless and sweaty. And then — immediately afterwards — he would fall asleep. It was clear his body needed that movement in order to relax. He did his for a long long time before bed but then it disappeared.

And now, over the last few days, the feet and leg movements have been building. He constantly moves his legs. When he’s upright — walking or running — that’s fine. That’s where his body wants to be. But when he’s lying on the floor or the sofa, his legs kick continuously. I hear the thudding against the floor, over and over again.

Sometimes I can block it out.
Other times it drives me absolutely mad.

This one weekend he was poorly and low on energy, which has meant lying on the sofa for days. For a little boy who needs to move, this is disastrous. So his legs have been going even faster. The problem is, he wants me next to him. So I sit next to him. He lies down with his legs draped over me — twitching, kicking, moving… into me. Over and over again. It doesn’t hurt. But after a while, I’m in a pickle myself. Completely overstimulated.

So now I massage his legs. And his feet. It helps. Immediately. His body settles, the kicking slows, and there’s a visible sense of relief. But it has to be done in a very specific way. A firm push. Proper pressure. None of this gentle, spa-like nonsense. And I am not allowed to massage his left leg/foot. Only his right one. His left one is too “tickly”.

And now… he wants it all the time.

“Can you massage my legs?”

Which is lovely. And also slightly alarming. Because apparently I am now the in-house deep-pressure therapist, available on demand, with no lunch breaks. I don’t mind doing it. I really don’t. I’m glad I’ve found something that helps him. But I’m also very aware that I have two hands, one nervous system of my own, and absolutely no formal training in whatever it is I seem to be doing.

Many neurodivergent children use movement and deep pressure as a way to regulate their nervous system. It isn’t a want, or a habit, or something they can simply stop — it’s communication. A body asking for help to settle, to feel safe, to come back into balance. Knowing that helps me respond with more compassion. It doesn’t always make it easier, but it makes it make sense.

So I’m figuring it out as I go. Like everything else. Helping where I can, while quietly wondering how to teach his body to find this relief without always needing mine.

If this sounds familiar — the movements, the pressure-seeking, the things that help but also create new questions — I’d love to know what’s worked in your house.

Because I suspect I’m not the only one accidentally qualifying for a job I never applied for.