I was watching In Therapy as I’m apt to do in the early hours and the last few minutes of a particular episode absolutely captivated me. I rewound and replayed them no less than five times. I don’t want to give anything away in case you’re apt to watch, but I do want to share a few lines uttered by the main character. I want to share THE lines that made me pause. Made me think. Made me reflect. They were as follows: “All I can do is encourage you to sit with your pain. Have patience with it. Become steadfast in it. Make it mean something.”
Sigh.
Take a beat and breathe those words in. Do they resonate with you? They sure as shit did for me.
I think as humans we are on this funny and fabulous journey whereas we endlessly cycle through joy and pain. We chase pain away with joy and cut the euphoria of our happiness with agony. Endlessly. We are impatient with our pain because it sits on us, heavy. We long to cut it loose, set ourselves free, and move onto the next.
I’ve had a few friends discuss their pain with me lately, but truth be told, I want to make this one about me. Not about advice I’ve given. Not about my thoughts of others and their decisions. Just me. Me and my pain. Me and my impatience. Me and my deep desire to rid myself of the anxiety connected to my pain.
Many of the bad decisions I’ve made in my life have been motivated by my desire for relief. I feel gutted and I seek to rid myself of that empty feeling and in turn, I feel a more pervasive and monstrous ache. How can I possibly be patient with a thing that seems never ending? How can I be patient with a thing that is seemingly uncontrollable? And if I dare exercise a modicum of patience, how do I remain firm and unwavering? At the precipice of a bottomless well, how does one not falter? Most importantly, what happens when one does anything but wait and stay and love and hope?
To alleviate the anxiety that is directly tied to pain, I’ve begged for the repair of friendships and relationships that do not serve me. I’ve stayed for too long and asked for too little and self-punished in a way that defies imagination. I’ve been taken advantage of and harmed and all in my quest for numbness. Just make it not hurt and I will do anything, say anything, say nothing at all.
Our pain blurs our vision and taints our judgment. We see things as we want them to be, rather than how they are, and we persevere despite well-advertised dead ends. Sometimes we replace the things that sting the most with things that initially feel like they will burn the least. We make declarations and then retreat. We endlessly search for something that can never be found.
I hear the expression ‘lean into the pain’ a lot these days. I struggle with this notion, this concept. Being patient is not the same thing as leaning into something. Leaning in is acceptance. Compromise. Understanding. Acclimation. Patience is observational. It’s the stuff that grows us, changes us. It’s the stuff that builds character and informs us just who the fuck we really are and who we want to be.
You don’t have to make pain a part of you. To the contrary, I think you should isolate it inside of you. Not compartmentalization. Not hiding it away. Just isolation. Imagine reaching inside yourself and scooping your pain and placing it delicately inside of a glass jar. Now walk around that jar and peer at it. Not judgmentally or hurriedly. Slowly. Kindly. Pay attention. Ask questions. Absorb images.
Imagine taking that glass jar and casting it out to sea. Not immediately. Oh no. That whole process takes time. The isolation in itself is entirely soul-shattering. We have to sever the tendons of connectivity between that pain and the rest of it. The every day life kind of pain. We have to dig deep until we find it as a separate entity.
Pain is irrational, but the observation and isolation of it is deliberate and methodical. Where does it come from? What does it feel like? What are its triggers? What calms it? Why does it return? Who does it impact? The answers to these questions will guide that pain out of all the cracks and crevices and into that bottle. They will serve as a funnel.
What then? What about that last bit, the meaning something?
I have often heard myself asking if something is worth it. Is that ice cream worth brushing my teeth again? Is that pizza worth eating gluten? Is that restaurant worth the long drive? Is that relationship worth fighting for? The same principle holds true for your pain.
When we feel pain and panic and try and wish it away, we lose the ability to have it teach us. We don’t bother exploring it because all we want is for it to go the fuck away. If we observe it? We can understand its impact. We can recognize its origin. We can acknowledge its patterns. We can choose to do the work to avoid or mitigate.
I understand wanting to feel better. It’s human nature. We just want to return to status quo, happiness or coasting in neutral. Perhaps even a little glum with a side order of sunny days. But, sometimes we need to sit with that pain so that we can recognize it before we feel its full impact in the future. Sometimes we need to sit with that pain so we can derive a plan for avoidance in the future. Not avoidance of feeling, but avoidance of the decisions that unquestionably lead to more pain.
This might all sound a bit hokey to you and I get it. I really truly do. This is super fucking hard. I’ve hit the button for pain relief more times that I can relay to you. I’m trying to do different now, though. Not better. Just different. One day at a time. One teensy milestone by the minute.
Today I will be patient with myself and my grief. Today I will allow a feeling of emptiness with the understanding that it won’t be forever. Today I will decide that I want my pain to teach me.
What says you?
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