Our pain and us
Pain is something I’ve been living with my whole life, and I think we’ve got it all wrong.
Pain can mean many different things for each of us, and can include both physical sensations as well as emotional or psychological experiences. In this post I’ll focus on the physical sensation we get when we say ‘my leg hurts’. We all experience pain during our lifetime – no human can avoid it.
Despite how universal pain is, our capacity to describe and communicate about it is generally limited. Even medical professionals often resort to the simplified and useless request to rate our pain from 1-10 as the only measurement or decipherment of pain.
This common practice has been criticised by people with chronic illnesses, pain and disabilities. Some of the arguments against its use is the oversimplification of a complex phenomena that includes our physical, social, emotional and psychological world. Our experience and perception of pain are also influenced by our history, genetic makeup and social circumstances, amongst other factors. Also, your 10 out of 10 is different from my 10 out of 10.
Take for instance the pain a birthing person experiences as they push out a baby from their body. It can include intense pressure, cramps, burning, stretching, sharp knives-like pulses and many other sensations. A number on a 1-10 scale does not do this experience justice. We also know that pain perception is impacted by anxiety, how we label the pain, our attitude to it, and many other factors that are often missed in modern Western understanding of pain.
This inadequate language, understanding and communication of pain means the way we respond to it can also be inadequate, ineffective or even harmful. Pain is simply labeled as Bad, and categorised as something that is undesirable, unattractive and unnatural, to be cured if possible, or at least halted.
This idea misses how pain helps us avoid injury, recover from previous traumas and indicate our bodies’ functioning. In some contexts pain is thought of as something to ‘push through’ and ignore in order to reach some external goal, like running a marathon. In cases of chronic pain, like mine, we think of pain again as something to ‘push through’ to reach the goal of survival.
The conclusion many of us get to is that pain is nothing to concentrate on – it is too painful to think about our pain, let alone explore it! What we end up doing is neglecting our pain.
We may dissociate to cope with extreme levels of pain, or use alcohol or drugs to numb it. For me, dissociation is something I have had to do in order to survive recurring, at times intense, and trauma-related pain. Many of us have been told our pain isn’t so bad, or that it will pass by your wedding day, or worse of all – that it isn’t real. No wonder we have such a fraught relationship with pain.
Why is this wrong?
Having a fraught relationship with pain has an ironic impact on our body, mind, and may I even say, soul.
Because we fear pain, we often get a stress or even a stress-survival response in our body when it happens. The fight/flight/freeze response that gets triggered by pain in many of us, generates stress hormones that are damaging to our body in the long term, and prevent us from using our complex thinking capacities. Basically this means that in that moment we cannot access the parts of our mind that reminds us of who we want to be, what kind of life we want, or what is important to us. Our brain is yelling DANGER DANGER DANGER at pain signals that may not by themselves be so dangerous.
When we’re so distressed, we struggle to regulate our feelings. We may lash out at others we care about, or use substances, gamble, or smoke – or do anything that distracts or numbs our intense emotional reaction and our physical pain. In short – seeing pain as something catastrophic and Bad, leaves us less choice over our actions when we’re feeling it.
Another way our problematic relationship with pain impacts our lives is a sense of isolation. Have you ever had the thought ‘No one has ever experienced pain like this before’? I have.
Many people who feel pain tend to also feel that they’re the only one going through that. Because we don’t talk about it, it seems like everyone else is living pain-free, which isn’t the case. This isolation can make us less likely to engage with others or in activities that will help us deal with the pain, or to live the meaningful life that we deserve. This is often exacerbated by real physical need to rest our hurting body parts, which often means we’re alone.
Ignoring the pain, something that many of us are told is a tough, cool, or even necessary thing to do, means that we actually end up trying to push it down. We spend so much energy, conscious or unconscious, telling ourselves something like ‘it’s fine, this too shall pass’ or ‘it’s not that bad’. Although in some contexts this may be useful (like for athletic training), generally this ends up damaging us also. We spend a lot of energy blocking out pain signals from our body, or gaslighting ourselves. This creates a lot of exhaustion, dissociation and trauma.
The alternative
I was dissatisfied with the way my pain and I were relating to each other. I was tired of feeling angry, frustrated, and on the verge of tears when pain would flare up. I was sick of feeling like I wasn’t good enough because of my chronic pain. So I thought about an alternative – of more helpful ways to cope with pain.
Instead of seeing myself as a failure when I couldn’t walk, I gave myself permission to listen to my body. I changed the way I view mobility aids, and now see them as something to help me live the life I want, alongside my pain.
This is not to say that pain should be dismissed by ourselves or others – quite the contrary. Pain should be listened to, attended to, just like any other part of us. Acknowledging that we’re in pain, and giving ourselves kindness through it, can be our first step towards a better life.
Beyond personal growth that we can all pursue to improve our quality of life, we need to change the way we treat and respond to each others’ pains. Instead of viewing people as either ‘normal’ or ‘abnormal’, what if we agreed that we all experience some pain, at some points in our lives, albeit our vast differences? What if we choose to treat others who are in pain with kindness, curiosity and empathy? Instead of letting pain get in the way of connection, what if we embraced it as a connecting link?
When your friend is in pain, instead of offering to just reschedule your catch up, what if you offered to help in some way? What if we held spaces for each others’ pain? You could pick up medications from the pharmacy, or hold their hand, or remind them that they are still them. Help them listen to their bodies and practice being kind to themselves.
We all benefit from transforming the way we relate to pain through increased compassion. Compassion towards ourselves and our fellow humans helps us cope with the most difficult times, and authentically connect with other people.
Where to from here
Here are a few steps to start reflecting on your relationship with pain – applicable to use with yourself and with another person:
- Ask about pain – for example ‘How’s your body been feeling lately?’ or ‘How’s that back pain going at the moment?’
- Validate the pain – for example ‘That sounds painful’ or ‘I believe you’
- Ask how you can stay connected through the pain – for example ‘How can we change our plans to still include you?’ or ‘How can I stay connected to my loved ones through this?’
- Ask what may help – without the assumption that you or a particular drug can ‘fix’ it. For example ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ or ‘What might help me feel more grounded through this?’
Practicing these steps with myself, and with people I care about, has helped me transform the way I experience pain. Now I sit down, focus on my breath, and listen to my pain like it is music.
Oftentimes this music, like your neighbours’ party, is out of my control. I cannot always turn it off, so I lay back and listen. Sometimes the tunes are nostalgic, like Britney Spears over the gym’s speakers. Other times the music is unfamiliar and surprising, like a new single. Other times the music is partly familiar, partly new, like being at your favourite band’s concert. You have probably heard this song before, and if you haven’t, it is almost a guarantee to strike your chords.
All I want is for there to be seating, so I can sit down and concentrate on the music – outside and within.
And before you go, check out:
Where you can join me next month!
Listening to my pain and my body has brought me more than internal peace, it has been a source of inspiration! With that in mind, here are some important Life Updates you may want to know about:
- The (Un)marginalised Season 2 Launch is coming next month!!! Check it out here! I have been working tirelessly on producing this event – the biggest one I’ve ever done. The Launch will be an in-conversation event with Carly Findlay OAM, and you can attend live in Naarm (at The Motley Bauhaus) or through the live stream. I cannot wait to share this event with you, that will include the story behind the podcast, your questions answered live on stage and more.
TO BOOK TICKETS visit melbournefringe.com.au or call (03) 9660 9666.
This event is supported by the City of Melbourne Arts Grants.
- I have been appointed as the Editor of this year’s Writing Place magazine, published by Arts Access Australia. What an honour it has already been to read others’ works, be inspired and think about my vision for this publication.
Writing Place is published annually as a part of Meeting Place, Arts Access Australia annual forum on art, culture and accessibility. The magazine showcases the writing of d/Deaf, disabled and neurodivergent writers and poets.
Submissions are still open until 11.59pm (AEST) on 11 September 2022. I would love to read your work! Find all the details on how to submit here.
Until next time,
Liel K. Bridgford