Months ago, as I started a new radio show and we were pre-recording two back-to-back programs, my focus was totally on my back pain!
Since the producer was leaving for vacation, I didn’t dare cancel our appointment, even though I had strained my back at the beginning of the weekend and had spent three days biting bullets at home. Interestingly, that day’s topic was precisely about pain and its management.
I don’t take analgesics (painkillers) and always advocate for natural health approaches, while listening to the body’s inner wisdom.
The morning had started very promising for me, with a little stiffness but no limiting pain. I drove the 20 minutes on the interstate and then carried my computer to the second floor. Mistake. I wasn’t paying attention and didn’t listen to my back alerting me not to carry weights. Soon my back started to resent those few pounds I lifted.
When I started to talk into the microphone, I realized that even without any medication circulating through my blood, I was feeling quite groggy. I knew my whole body was invested in repairing the damaged tissue, and not enough energy was left to brighten up my mind so that I could focus on producing a quality program.
What an incredible paradox. The program was precisely about pain and I couldn’t step out of script to describe to the listeners how I was feeling. I was afraid of sounding inconsistent or of lessening the strength of the message I wanted to convey. But now I think it would have made it livelier. People out there suffering from pain could have related to my state of mind.
Somatic pain is not just a somatic experience, I felt vulnerable, tired and distracted. I felt kind of incomplete, split into pieces, and susceptible. Like if my angels had flown away. Like if my Hun (Chinese term for Heavenly spirits) had deserted me and was now traveling to more pleasant places.
I was left feeling lonely in my flesh and I felt the pulse of this pain with such intensity that the walls of the recording room seemed to contract and expand with the throbbing.
This was not the first time I’d hurt my back, I knew the pain would go away. I knew that Reiki, insights, anti-inflammatory foods, Complex B supplements, Vitamin C, and QiGong exercises would, in just a few days, bring me back to normal, optimal function. This hope and certainty calmed me down, helping me withstand the pain, understanding it was an alarm, a signal, a call from my body asking me to accept that I need rest. I opted to listen, slow down, rest, and eat healthy.
This experience made me feel very compassionate towards all those who suffer chronic pain. I think I understand why when you suffer any kind of chronic pain the hope for relief may have left leaving in place a kind of desperate resignation where the days are counted slowly, one-by-one.
Still, I believe that pain brings us an opportunity to look into things from a different perspective. We need to take the pain to another dimension and examine it under a spiritual kind of microscope. It might give us the opportunity to face dormant emotional pains that are still unresolved. It might give us the opportunity to look at our lifestyle and ponder if some changes in how we eat, the way we move, relate or balance activity/rest need change.
As a mental health counselor, I have found that many people in chronic pain receive support and friendship only when their lives are miserable. Pain can in this way play a trick on us and subconscious needs for care and love may invite pain to stay in the body.
But pain might also give us the opportunity to reach out, openly express our needs, let others know that yes, we’re also vulnerable and would like support once in a while.