Talking about Our Physical Pain
I co-administrate a FaceBook group in which many participants are chronically ill. A discouraged member there mentioned that she felt bad because her pain psychologist told her not to talk about her pain.
A *pain psychologist* saying that!? Sheesh. That, in my book, is a prime example of the truth that "you can have the title, but it does not mean that you are decent at your profession."
Voicing our pain; externalizing it is GOOD, for many reasons. There is a HUGE difference between dwelling; aimless whining, and simply stating the TRUTH. We HURT.
To internalize it, always, is to maintain some of the poison of that thought within...it is a bitter, vile poison that we all know well.
I detest whiners and complainers and run the other way when confronted by them.
However -- there are ways and there are ways. My husband Leif and I have developed a certain "pain communication" mode. He asks how I am doing. I tell him. He says, with sympathy, "Ohhh, that is a drag." or "I am sorry that it's that way today." or "Ohhhh, sweetie." And I say yep, and sometimes *briefly* repeat my same old feelings of frustration.
THERE. The words are out, they have been said, and I have had acknowledgement from the external world (husband). That is all I am looking for -- to state the hell, to make it true, to proclaim the beast's work. To get it OUT. These short communications are repetitious...I am saying the same things over and over again. Of course, this is because those of us in pain experience the constant fight / disappointment / frustration / sadness ...repetitiously.
THERE. The words are out, they have been said, and I have had acknowledgement from the external world (husband). That is all I am looking for -- to state the hell, to make it true, to proclaim the beast's work. To get it OUT. These short communications are repetitious...I am saying the same things over and over again. Of course, this is because those of us in pain experience the constant fight / disappointment / frustration / sadness ...repetitiously.
Leif, a very black-and-white science guy, did not always understand this need and the dynamic of externalization. He thought, and understandably, that well, I have pain, he is sorry about it, and that is that. He said it once, and he meant it. Why repeat, a million times? Don't I know that he cares and is sorry? Would it not be overkill to say the same things over and over again?
(No it wouldn't.)
To someone who does not understand the socio-emotional fallout of becoming chronically ill/disabled, it is impossible to perceive the importance of our need to cry out about the life that has been taken from us. It is difficult for them to capture the constant, everyday "face-to-face" that we have with our limitations, and the constant sensation of frustration and imprisonment we deal with...the never-ending reminder of work we can not do...
Our friends, spouses, and others, hence, rarely understand that the repetition of sympathy and supportive comments to us can not ever be enough! These comments feel good. They makes us feel heard and loved and cared for and recognized. They somehow put a "period on the end of the sentence."
Previously, I was not too sure about this dynamic. I did not ever want to be a complainer or whiner. Yet facing constant pain, while watching my life shrink to a mere dot of what it was heretofore, left me with a great deal of angst. How to deal with it? How to share the injustice? With time, I came to this resolution. That to externalize it, and to garner a sympathetic comment, is all that it takes to feel encouraged, supported, and freed of the binding suffocation of carrying it silently.
When I was able to finally explain this to Leif, he got it completely. Now we have our little "pain dynamic communication." It has been a great thing for me. I will say what is happening, and Leif will reply with a sympathetic response. That is all I need, and that is all that can be done anyway. Then we drop it, and go on to the next topics at hand. Fast and easy.
Without expression of our physical pain, we are simply holding it all inside. To a large extent, we have to do that ANYWAY, because life as a disabled, hurting person implies a lot of "shoving it down" while the rest of the healthy world leaves us in the dust. But to have to not even mention our pain? To have to act as though it is not banging against every cell of our consciousness? Nope...I believe that this "don't talk about it" suggestion for dealing with it foments feelings of isolation, loneliness, and failure.
I do not remain in the company of people who complain, and whine, and want to make the entire day's conversation about their crappy health and rotten lives. UGH. However, I will gladly share the woes of someone who states it, as it is, and then PROCEEDS ahead with whatever it is that they do to make their lives as good as possible.
IT NEEDS EXPRESSION. IT NEEDS ACKNOWLEDGEMENT.
and then...FORWARD!
Sorry to give a big lecture here, but the people who suggest "don't think about it," or "don't talk about it" have their heads up their nether parts. And they very obviously have not dealt with long-standing illness, pain, weakness, and limitation due to disability. May they know it one day.
My rules, if I were to talk to someone about their addressing their pain:
1. Talk about it. Say what is hurting you. Say how that makes you feel.
2. Expect /request / "teach" whoever is listening to offer a kind comment. Not go on for hours, not be a cheerleader, not be a parent, not be a lifesaver, but be a simple support, saying short and sweet sympathetic things.
3. End comment time with something akin to "Oh well. It is what it is."
4. MOVE ON. Do not spend a lot of time on the complaint (unless there is something new to discuss).
5. Express your pain whenever it is necessary.
Rate of repetition: In my case, I am compelled to talk about my pain every time it worsens, or there is a shift in health. I probably mention my health somewhere between 5-10 times a day. I also mention it when I am simply frustrated. All I want is for those words to be "out there...outside of me...and then to be acknowledged. Nothing more. I don't dwell. I do not want to get into it. I just want it to be "outside of me" and with a sympathetic "awwww," I feel supported and better. Then it is OVER. And I feel heard, and better for having externalized it.
"Moving on" (after expressing the pain) can take many forms. For me, when I am at my worst, it usually means finding something silly into which I can escape as not to concentrate on the physical hell. Other days, it means more, as I am able to do more.
It is important, after saying the truth, that I always do something...something that reminds me that I still can do something, even if it is to merely sink into a Netflix marathon. This immediate application of me-to-action is a living symbol -- that I can complain, but I have a life. And I will continue to make a life.
Forward!
