Hi! In the previous post, we took a closer look at patterns and how pain sneaks into our lives, affecting our decisions and actions, no matter who we are or how we express it. We humans have this ongoing dance with pain, don’t we? Sometimes it’s that fiery ache from a physical injury, and other times it’s those emotional wounds life leaves behind. Pain, most of us can probably agree on, is not something we are excited about. Have you ever paused to really think about what you believe about pain? How do these beliefs influence how you react to it, and could they actually be holding you back from healing and growing?
In today’s blog, let’s dive a little deeper into the world of pain – those fears that often tag along, the beliefs we carry about it, what pain might be trying to tell us if we give it a chance, and how we can collaborate with it rather than resist it. As we explored in the last post, pain is a common thread that weaves through our lives. We all harbor beliefs about pain, and you might just discover that some of these beliefs have been running your decision making without your awareness.
Here’s a little activity for you to get started today. I invite you to hit pause on your reading, grab a piece of paper, and let your thoughts flow freely about what you believe about pain. Think of it as a discovery challenge, a journey into your own perceptions. To get started, find a quiet spot, maybe play some soothing EMDR music or any calming tunes, take a few deep breaths, and, if it resonates with you, ask for some guidance from God.
You can begin with some prompts like:
- What I believe about pain is…
- Life has taught me that pain…
- When I’m faced with pain, I think the best response is…
- When others are in pain, I…
- When I’m in pain myself, I…
- I see pain as…
- The thing that truly scares me about pain is…
- I think pain serves a purpose, and that purpose is…
Write whatever comes to mind, without overthinking it. There are no wrong answers here, just your authentic thoughts. Keep at it until you sense a pause, and then challenge yourself to go a bit further. The idea is to embrace curiosity and acceptance of what surfaces because if we don’t acknowledge these beliefs or become aware of them, we might unwittingly continue using methods that only perpetuate more pain.
We all hold certain beliefs about pain. Some of these beliefs are common, like the ones I list here. Others will be unique to you. It’s safe to say that most of us think that pain just plain old sucks. It’s often seen as this unpredictable force that never seems to end. We sometimes feel it’s unmanageable, like there’s no point in even trying to control it. Pain can make us feel lonely, helpless, and completely overwhelmed. It’s even got that scary effect from it being so unknown and unpredictable.
We tend to treat it like an enemy, believing it makes us vulnerable and shows weakness. Some believe that talking about it just makes it worse, and it’s something you should avoid at all costs. There’s this idea that you can’t really share your pain with others, like it’s a solo journey. Interestingly, some think pain is actually necessary to kick us into action. It’s like a signal telling us that something’s not right. So yeah, pain brings out a whole bunch of beliefs in us, doesn’t it?
This exercise might have been a bit tricky for some of you, and that’s perfectly okay, it certainly was for me the first time I did it. Pain is such a broad concept; there are all sorts of nuances to it.
There’s physical pain, like the ache from a cut or the discomfort of a broken bone. Sometimes, this kind of pain forces us to take a break, you know, to let our bodies heal. Then there’s the emotional stuff – it’s just as real, even though you can’t see it. It’s like the pain of someone you care about walking away, or the deep sorrow when you lose someone close to you.
Pain has different causes as well. Sometimes, we bring it on ourselves, and other times, it just happens. Sometimes, it’s because of what other people do. Childhood pain might still be hanging around, mixing with the present. There’s the hurt of unmet needs, and sometimes, it’s just because people want different things.
Then there’s the kind of pain that comes from working really hard toward a goal. And, of course, there’s the pain of loss, but loss comes in all shapes and sizes. You can lose a dream, a person, or even just an object that meant a lot to you. Jobs and friendships can also bring their own kind of pain. Often it seems senseless. And then, sometimes, pain has a purpose. It’s like a wake-up call, telling us that something needs to change. Other times, it’s just there, and we have to find a way to endure it.
It’s normal to feel hurt when someone you thought cared about you abandons you. And the grief that comes with losing someone you love, well, that’s a pain that can run deep. Pain comes in various forms, making it a complex companion on our journey. Pain can manifest as the result of not having our needs met, facing loss, or even as the pain of conviction.
Understanding the origin of our pain can help us navigate it more effectively. Childhood pain, for instance, often arises from early experiences that we might not fully comprehend. Adult pain, on the other hand, is multifaceted and intertwined with complex emotions and circumstances.
It’s completely natural to have fears when it comes to pain. Who likes pain, right?
While you were jotting down your thoughts earlier, you might have stumbled upon some of those fears. But don’t worry. This post isn’t about making you feel bad for not exactly embracing pain with open arms. Pain isn’t exactly a party, and it’s totally normal to want to steer clear of it whenever possible.
You might be wondering, “Why on earth are we dedicating an entire post to pain?” Well, here’s the deal: fear of pain can be a pretty relentless bully and even turn into a merciless dictator.
As long as we’re paralyzed by that fear and constantly running away from pain, we end up stuck in this never-ending loop that, ironically, only brings us more pain. But what if we dared to confront that fear head-on? What if we believed, just for a moment, that we’re actually capable of facing it, that we have the strength to engage with it? You’d be surprised how this bravery can cut down the time you spend in pain and even kickstart the healing process.
Let me share a personal story about physical pain, and I promise it holds insights that can be just as relevant for emotional pain.
So, I was hitting the weights regularly, feeling strong and making progress with my workouts. But one day, I started noticing this nagging pain in my shoulder. At first, I shrugged it off, thinking it was just a minor strain from an exercise. I thought it would disappear as most of my aches have. But it didn’t.
I even went to see a chiropractor, hoping for a quick fix. They gave me treatments and a list of things to do to speed up healing. But two months passed, and there was no improvement. Physical therapy didn’t help either. At this point, I was tempted to just pop some painkillers and continue with my usual workouts because none of the experts were waving red flags.
But all the while my body was talking to me and I was this close to ignoring it like the doctors had. It was mysterious and didn’t make any sense. But my body’s was saying, “Hey, something’s not right here!” I finally pushed for an MRI, and it took a whole year from when I first stopped my upper body workouts to get a diagnosis: Two significant tears in my rotator cuff. If I had ignored the pain and continued working out, I would have made things much worse.
You see, pain communicates, whether it’s physical or emotional. In my case, my body was telling me it needed rest, lots of it. I had to make the tough call to love my body by giving it the rest it needed, even though I didn’t want to at first.
Now, think about emotional pain. It’s like a call from your soul, signaling that something needs attention. We’ll delve deeper into these emotional needs in a future post. But for now, I’d like to invite you to do some free writing, similar to what you did with your beliefs about pain. This time, treat pain as if it were a person and ask it, “What are you trying to tell me?” Let your words flow, and you might uncover some profound insights.
Let me share an example that might help you get started with this process. I’ll begin with a coping mechanism I noticed and mentioned in my last post. Strangely, I wasn’t even aware of the pain initially; what I noticed was the mechanism I used to numb it.
So, if you find yourself in a similar situation where you’re not directly connected to the pain, start by exploring the mechanism you use to cope. It could be anything, from distracting yourself to overworking or even turning to something like food or substances. Ask yourself and God, to reveal what this coping mechanism is shielding you from.
Once you have some clarity on that, start free writing. Let your thoughts flow without judgment until you reach a point where something resonates with you, where you feel a connection. Keep in mind that this process might vary in speed; sometimes, it’s quick, and other times, it takes a few sessions. Be patient with yourself and remember that you’re essentially learning a new language – the language of your emotions.
Once you’re aware of the pain, it’s time to ask it a question: “What are you trying to tell me?” Sometimes, it helps to personify the pain, envisioning it as a version of yourself, and see what it has to say. This technique isn’t always applicable, but when it is, it can provide valuable insights.
In my case, I discovered that the pain I was feeling was related to an anniversary of loss. Using some of the tools I’ve shared in earlier posts, I acknowledged this pain as a real and meaningful part of my experience. It made sense, and from there, I began contemplating what was needed to help that pain heal.
Remember, this journey is highly individual, and what you uncover will be unique to you. Try to listen to your heart and ask it, “What do you need in this moment of pain?” If you find yourself struggling to get an answer, it’s okay. Sometimes, you might need to revisit this exercise after we’ve explored common emotional needs in future posts.
Think of it like healing a physical injury, such as my rotator cuff tear. Just by stopping certain activities, you’re already making progress, even though later on, you might add other supportive measures for healing like I did. So, by validating your pain, you’re taking a significant first step. Keep at it, and stay open to insights and revelations with the help of God, on how to further engage with your pain.
Amidst all of this exploration and understanding of pain, there’s a profound realization worth embracing: Not numbing pain is an act of self-love. It might seem counterintuitive, especially when pain is something we instinctively want to avoid. However, by allowing ourselves to truly feel and acknowledge our pain, we’re engaging in an act of self-compassion and care.
Think about it this way: when we numb pain, we might temporarily escape the discomfort, but we also prevent ourselves from addressing its root cause. Just like in my earlier example with physical pain, ignoring it or numbing it with painkillers only prolongs the issue and can potentially make it worse.
In the realm of emotional pain, the same principle applies. Numbing emotional pain with distractions, substances, or other coping mechanisms might offer momentary relief, but it doesn’t address the underlying source of our suffering. It’s similar to putting a band-aid on a broken bone.
So, as we navigate our beliefs, fears, and responses to pain, it’s essential to remember that allowing ourselves to experience it fully, without judgment, is an act of self-love. It’s an acknowledgment of our own worthiness to heal and grow. And by not numbing, we also gain valuable feedback about the progress we’re making.
I stumbled upon this insightful list of pain avoidance mechanisms that, when paired with the profound idea that sitting with the pain of unmet needs, unheard desires, and an unseen heart is exceptionally challenging, prompted me to pause and engage in some deep introspection. As I carefully reviewed each item on this list, one particular point stood out, catching my attention with its undeniable significance.
Here are some of the ways in which many people avoid confronting their pain:
- Blaming someone else for their troubles.
- Avoiding people who are in trouble, crisis, or pain.
- Keeping a protective shield over their heart and relying solely on their intellect to navigate life, effectively evading their emotional experiences.
- Clutching onto anger as a defense and protection mechanism.
- Escaping into a fantasy world, intentionally disregarding the harsh realities of life.
- Retreating into excessive sleep as a means of numbing emotional pain.
- Seeking solace in various forms of self-medication, whether through substances like drugs and alcohol, or activities like overeating, excessive shopping, immersing themselves in endless screentime, embracing religion as a distraction, or turning to any other means that help to drown out their pain.
These avoidance strategies might provide temporary relief, but they often hinder our personal growth and healing.
This realization sparked a profound dialogue between God and myself, leading me to a significant understanding. It is crucial to differentiate between taking responsibility for actions I didn’t commit or troubles I didn’t bring upon myself. While it’s true that some of the choices in my life contributed to my pain and wounds, there’s immense value in recognizing that others have inflicted harm upon me as well.
As I pondered these strategies, I’ve become acutely sensitive to the intricate facets of the ‘blaming’ phenomenon in myself. Undoubtedly, my path towards healing is intertwined with the enduring effects of other people’s abuse. It takes a substantial investment of time and effort to mend the wounds inflicted by their destructive choices, so it is normal to feel some resentment.
Initially, I held a rather simplistic view of blame – that it primarily served as a tool for individuals to evade responsibility for their own misdeeds. In response, I consciously tried not to blame and instead focused on looking at my own actions to ensure I didn’t deflect my responsibilities. But I noticed I was still often blaming. And as I’ve wrestled more with this concept of blame, I’ve come to appreciate its complexity and how it plays a role in my journey of self-discovery and healing.
Yet, what eluded me was the realization that maintaining this perspective – one focused on the actions of others and the harm they’ve caused – goes beyond merely discerning what I should take responsibility for and what rightfully belongs to those who wronged me, through no fault of my own. It inadvertently served as a mechanism to evade confronting the full extent of my pain, anchoring my gaze on the deeds of others and their perceived faults. I suppose in a way, looking at their part kept me from doing some deeper work in my own heart, work that was very vulnerable, and I was avoiding it.
It’s essential to clarify that recognizing this doesn’t diminish or erase the actions of others; they remain accountable for their choices. However, by surrendering these burdens to God, I’ve come to acknowledge that there’s a deeper layer of pain I’d been shielding myself from by clinging to the weightier emotions of blame and resentment. As I progress on this journey, I continue peeling away the layers of pain that have accumulated over time. These layers are the result of various strategies to avoid pain, many of which I’ve identified – though the role of blame had previously eluded me.
I distinctly recall a conversation from several years ago when individuals responsible for significant harm accused me of blaming them. My response at the time was firm: “It’s not blame if it’s true – are you suggesting you didn’t engage in these actions?” This exchange, in hindsight, no matter how much truth it contained, revealed that I was more comfortable staying in the more protective emotions of anger but was denying myself the softness required to get to the pain fully. Blame was a way of numbing my pain in its own way. There is no shame for doing so. We do what we can in the moment to make it. But the fact that I began to recognize more, actually shows progress with my ability to dare to look at the scarier parts that I did not previously know how to engage with. I think of it like progressing to the next spiral upward on the journey.
I want to clarify, I’m not suggesting we should disregard assigning responsibility where it’s due. What I’m doing here is sharing my own revelation in the hopes that it might aid you in progressing to the next stage of processing your grief and pain. There are times when staying fixated on what’s undeniably true and real, while valid, can potentially keep us stuck at certain points in our journey. Even if those aspects remain relevant, there can be immense value in setting aside the weight of blame and anger. Doing so allows us to delve more deeply into the pain, ultimately facilitating a more comprehensive healing process through learning to be with ourselves in the pain, validating it and bringing love.
I embrace this new recognition of the role blame has played and now use it as a reminder to turn toward myself in compassion and attending to the pain and wound rather than demanding justice, amends and the like, if that makes sense. To make this manageable, I partner with God and ask him how much there is grace to process in whatever moment I am in. I’ll pay attention to the pain that may have remained hidden, allowing it to come to the forefront. Then, I’ll intentionally sit with Him, actively listening to His guidance on how to navigate and find relief from that pain.
As we wrap up this talk on pain, healing, and growth, hopefully you’ve gained more awareness about it and have some ideas of how you might engage with pain in a different way going forward. If fear of pain has been a relentless and limiting force in your life, you might be ready to challenge it. If you’re not ready to take action, just pondering this question will be a good next step: What if you dared to believe that you have the strength to face your pain head-on, have tools to engage with it, and ultimately, to heal? It would be an act of radical self-compassion to choose to hold off the numbing for a while.
Remember, you are never alone, God is right there with you. Be patient with yourself, for you are learning a new language—the language of your emotions. Keep engaging with your pain, listening to it, and partnering with the divine guidance of God.
Thank you for joining me on this exploration of pain. May your journey towards healing and growth be filled with self-compassion, resilience, and the unwavering belief in your capacity to heal. Until next time, take care, and be kind to yourself.
