Myofascial Mystery
Myofascial Mystery
Hello and welcome to my blog!
I’ve been wanting to write a post about the myofascial system for quite some time, but it hasn’t been easy to put into words. Perhaps that’s because there still isn’t a universally accepted medical definition of fascia. Practitioners don’t fully agree on what it does, how it works, its primary functions, or even its significance as an independent body system.
At my office, however, we talk about fascia every day with almost every patient. We understand how important it is when addressing chronic pain conditions, soft tissue, joint injuries, or scar tissue, and even pain that has an emotional or mental component. When a patient isn’t responding to chiropractic care or other soft tissue techniques—or when their injury presents in a certain way—I often refer them for myofascial release (MFR) or other therapies that specifically address fascial dysfunction.
My own healing journey has been complex and, at times, overwhelming (if you’ve read my earlier posts, you know what I mean!). Myofascial release has been essential for managing my pain, restoring mobility, and helping me understand why my body felt “stuck” in certain injury patterns. Fascia is a fascinating and rapidly evolving topic in medicine, but for the sake of this post, I’ll keep things focused. I’ll walk you through how I explain fascia in my office: What is fascia? What does it do? And how might it relate to pain or injury patterns? I’ll also share how my personal experience with fascial work has helped me continue practicing as a chiropractor.
When I meet a new patient who presents with chronic pain or a history of injury, I immediately start thinking about how their fascia may be involved.
Recently, a patient came in with long-standing low back pain that began after a severe ankle injury during his senior year of high school football. He described a significant sprain and fracture that forced him to sit out his final season. After graduation, he went into construction and soon began experiencing persistent low back pain.
That was 27 years ago—and the pain has never fully resolved.
He has undergone three back surgeries, completed physical therapy, and still struggles with daily function. He shared how difficult it is to engage with his family when he’s in pain. He wants to carry his grandchildren, hike with his wife, and come home from work and still be able to function—without collapsing on the couch with ice on his back.
I asked him if he remembered how he felt when he broke his ankle.
“I remember it hurt a lot, and I had to be carried off the field because I couldn’t put any weight on it,” he said.
I clarified:
“I don’t mean physically—how did you feel emotionally? What was going through your mind?”
He paused.
“I was angry. Really angry. I couldn’t play with my friends my senior year. That’s what made me go into construction with my dad instead of college. I was told I could never play football again, and it felt like my life was over—no college, no scholarship, no more time with my teammates.”
“Wow,” I said. “I’m so sorry. That must have been incredibly difficult.”
At first glance, this conversation might seem unrelated to his back pain. Some might argue that I should be asking more “important” questions like, “Does it hurt worse at night?” or “What do you take for the pain?” But in many cases, this is one of the most important parts of the intake.
After completing the rest of his history—including those standard questions—I began explaining how fascia can respond to injury and why it may still be affecting him decades later. Scar tissue, or tissue adhesions (like the kind created during the break to his ankle or during his back surgeries), are one of the biggest restrictions to the structure and function of our fascia. Structure dictates functions, so to understand these changes, we have to understand the structure/function concepts of fascia.
I often describe fascia as a unique and complex system—sometimes even referring to it as a “fourth brain” (which usually earns me a few raised eyebrows). We’re familiar with the central nervous system (brain and spinal cord), the intrinsic cardiac nervous system (“heart brain”), and the enteric nervous system (“gut brain”). Fascia, while not a nervous system in the traditional sense, behaves in a highly responsive and communicative way throughout the body.
The brain sends electrical signals at remarkable speeds (about 250-280 mph), but fascia can transmit force and information through the body in ways that feel almost instantaneous (literally the speed of light). Think about when a car suddenly pulls out in front of you and your body braces before you even consciously process what’s happening—that rapid, protective response involves fascial coordination.
Fascia plays a major role in stabilizing joints, coordinating movement, and protecting the body from injury. It works in conjunction with the nervous system to help you catch yourself when you trip, pull away from something sharp, or brace during a fall.
What makes fascia especially interesting is its adaptability.
It can expand and glide, allowing smooth, coordinated movement—but it can also contract and restrict motion, even though it isn’t muscle tissue. Researchers are still working to fully understand its structure and function. Some emerging theories suggest that fascia may exhibit piezoelectric properties—meaning it can generate electrical signals in response to mechanical stress.
In simpler terms: when fascia is compressed, stretched, or stressed, it may produce electrical activity that influences how the body responds and adapts. And this brings us to one of its most intriguing concepts—fascial “memory.”
When people hear “muscle memory,” they often think of learned skills like riding a bike or throwing a ball. But fascia appears to hold a different kind of memory—one tied to physical trauma, emotional experiences, and environmental stressors.
In chiropractic, we often refer to the “Three T’s”: thoughts, traumas, and toxins.
A physical trauma—like a car accident—can lead to lasting patterns of tension and guarding.
Emotional experiences—like fear, anger, or stress—can influence posture and movement patterns.
Toxins or inflammatory responses can also affect how tissues behave and respond.
For example, someone who was injured in a car accident at a specific intersection may feel tension or anxiety every time they pass that location. Or someone who grew up in a stressful or unsafe environment may unconsciously adopt protective postures that persist into adulthood.
These patterns aren’t random—they’re protective. The body is trying to keep you safe.
Fascia is also deeply connected to every cell in the body through the “ground substance,” a gel-like component of connective tissue. This facial gel-like environment supports cellular communication, nutrient exchange, and tissue elasticity. This also allows fascia to have its piezoelectric quality (electrical signaling in response to pressure), bioacoustic quality (sound, vibration, and frequency changes cause it to receive and transmit signals in response), and allows it to change shape based on emotion, thought, or movement. When fascia becomes restricted—due to injury, inflammation, or chronic tension—these systems don’t function as efficiently. This can lead to decreased mobility, pain, and changes in how tissues behave at a cellular level. This dehydrated, calcified fascia becomes sticky, hard, and stagnant. It is no longer able to receive or send signals instantaneously, and sometimes it is inhibited in function altogether.
Returning to our patient: his ankle injury didn’t just affect his bones and ligaments—it also created a lasting protective pattern within his fascial system. Combined with the emotional impact of the injury, his body essentially learned: “This movement is dangerous—avoid it.” Decades later, that protective pattern may still be active.
I’ve experienced something similar in my own body. After a significant shoulder injury involving dislocation, fractures, and soft tissue damage, my body developed compensatory movement patterns to avoid pain. Even after healing structurally, my body didn’t “trust” those movements. It wasn’t until I incorporated myofascial release that things began to change.
During treatment, the fascia is gently engaged, allowing it to release restrictions in a process often called “unwinding.” As the tissue becomes more mobile and fluid, the nervous system can begin to “update” its understanding of safety and movement. For me, this was a turning point. Once my body felt safe again, I responded better to other therapies like physical therapy, massage, and chiropractic care.
When a patient tells me, “I’ve tried everything and nothing works,” I think about fascia. When they say the pain always comes back, I think about fascia. When they express fear, frustration, or anger about their body—I think about fascia.
So many people underestimate the power of the body to protect and heal. It is through my own experience and clinical training, that I now understand that the mind and body connection is the most powerful healing tool we have. When we can address the emotional injury connected with the fascia, then we can address the struggle of the muscle, joint, and other involved tissues to allow the body to feel safe, reconnect, and heal. An earlier blog post talks about how we try to create a safe and comfortable office environment so that people can have a place to heal. This safe environment also begins in the body. I love how myofascial release can initiate that healing and allow patients to feel comfortable in their body again.
My hope is that this perspective helps people better understand why their body may feel “stuck” or why pain can persist long after an injury has healed.
Your body is not broken. It is not working against you. It is protecting you. Sometimes, it just needs help recognizing that the threat is no longer there. With the right support, awareness, and treatment approach, the body can relearn, reconnect, and heal.
Feel Well and Do Good,
ADIO
Dr. Super