I am not my pain.
The pain still comes through for me loud and tenacious with it’s message: Listen!
My stubbornness still wants to believe I can muscle my way around a flare up. Even after all of these years, when pain arrives at my doorstep, I stare at it in disbelief unable to grasp the fact that it can creep in at any moment.
In hindsight, I can usually see where I have let my guard down, ignoring the early warning signs: complacency in diet, asking too much of my body without reciprocity or downplaying the external stressors in my life.
This morning the pain consumes me.
Every movement is careful and calculated. I can feel my system in hyper-vigilance. Any stimulation becomes exaggerated.
Mundane tasks turn into hurdles that require all of my attention. I drop the dishcloth on the floor. As I bend to pick it up my muscles spasm and I feel the sickening shooting pain that only comes from nerves.
I cannot formulate words to express my need for help, exacerbating my anxiety. Thoughts pour in from all directions:
“It’s garbage day, how am I going to get it outside?”
“How will my kids get to school on time, we still have too much to do”
A woman who prides herself on remaining calm in the face of strife and choosing her battles wisely is diminished to panic and irrational musings.
This exact moment is where I get to choose:
Identify with the pain. Meet the spasms with paralysis and fear. Allow the thoughts and non-consequential stressors to consume my day. Become my emotions and fall into days, that easily become weeks, of allowing pain to take the driver’s seat.
OR
Identify the pain as a message, as something happening to me. Meet the spasm with calm nasal breathing. Remember that areas of my brain are naturally inhibited as my nervous system snatches up valuable real estate to protect me. Persistently convince my nervous system my environment is safe and the heightened pain message is unnecessary.
Breathe baby. It’s a fucking dishcloth.
Recognizing my crossroads has become my weapon against relinquishing control to the restraints of my pain.
The message for me is always the same: slow down and be present in what you are doing. There is nothing productive in rushing through life with blinders on, simply for the sake of reaching the next destination.
And so, here I am, breathing calmly in and out through my nose while exercising my hands and feet to provide that high quality feedback to my nervous system: I am safe to move about in this world. I am making a list of what needs to be done and what can wait. I am loving myself because I know I am not my pain.
Health and Light,