Dealing with Disappointment

Chronic illnesses bring with them a slew of disappointments, big and small. While it seems against the whole “stay positive” theme to admit that, ignoring disappointment under the guise of “positivity” is a bit like hiding an infected wound under a bandage — it may look clean and tidy on the outside, but it’s still festering inside. Therefore, we all need tactics to deal with those disappointments — actually treat that infected wound with antimicrobials — and do it with a positive attitude!

This past week, my physical state has led to some definite disappointments. I was down with a fibromyalgia flare and recurrent migraines for the entire week. It was one of those weeks where I was barely up from one assault before the next one knocked me back down. Each time I was expecting to feel better, and each time I was disappointed.

First came the piercing pain, the nausea, the occipital and trigeminal neuralgia, over several days. As the migraine abortives dulled those, other symptoms asserted in its place: a worsening of the gnawing pain in my legs, neck and back spasms, shooting pains along my spine, burning pains all across my back and arms. For a day or two, it was hard to even dress myself or comb my hair. Then when time and tramadol dulled those a bit, I realized I was in the grip of complete and utter fatigue. I was exhausted to where I was dizzy and eating, at times, was a difficult endeavor. Only by the end of the week did I see a pattern, and realize that I was in for an all-around fibromyalgia flare.

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Based on a similar painting (unknown artist) that was swathed in cool blues and depressing hues, I experimented with some colors to inject HOPE into the scene. (oil on 8X10 canvas; available)

The result was that I missed all week’s worth of pool exercise classes (though I stayed continually optimistic about being able to go). I also missed the once-a-year outdoor art market that was held yesterday. I have no energy to get up to do anything at all, not even a bath. Needless to say I was fairly disappointed. Disappointed that I “wasted” a week in bed, disappointed that I have no energy to pursue my painting aspirations, disappointed to have missed the art market that I was looking forward to for months!

Unfortunately, weeks like this are not uncommon for me. They have caused me much agony in the past. At first, I would push through regardless. Then later, as that stopped being an option, I would be reduced to tears, wondering if my life will now forever be at the mercy of my condition. Then one day I realized that while many things may indeed now be affected by fibromyalgia, one thing I do have some control over is how I react to it. Having sparred with the “dark side” before, I knew I had the power to “unsink” myself. Therefore, in order to keep my chin up while dealing with such disappointments as my own body has proven to be, I developed a few practical tools.


The three main tools in my “coping with disappointment” toolkit are:

1. Finding an alternative that’s equally appealing

One of the most disappointing things about being down with a chronic illness is thinking of all the things you missed. Chief among those last week was the art market I really wanted to go to but really didn’t feel up to. I have also been hoping to start painting more since last weekend, which has not yet happened. So instead, I decided to engage in other painting-related activities that I could do from bed:

  • I worked on my new Etsy shop, listing new paintings on there regularly.
  • I tried creating fancy displays for my paintings with a new app I downloaded, and have been sharing them on my Facebook and Instagram art pages.
  • And last but not the least, I am sharing my artwork through the blog posts I am writing!
PhotoFunia Kitty and Frame Regular 2017-11-17 03 47 34
One of the fun painting displays I created using the “Photofunia” app. My painting of the daffodils is titled “A Breath of Sunshine” (oil on 8X10 canvas; available).

There have been other “alternatives” in my toolkit too, like writing/blogging, reading* and marathoning through Stranger Things and Anne with an E.

The result was a week where I was in pain and discomfort (I won’t sugar-coat it), but I kept myself “active” from bed, engaging in things that made me happy! The week was not what I wanted it to be, but it was enjoyable in its own right, making it hard to be too disappointed by it.

2. Listing the recent good times

When dearly-held plans get trashed, when life disappoints you, it is easy to feel like your whole world is nothing but a dark dreary mess. I can’t definitively prove it, but I have it on good authority that time moves slower when you are in pain! So it is no surprise that it feels like the low point lasts forever. But the objective truth is that the sun has not been and will not be behind the clouds forever. It was out once before, and it will be again. And even while it’s hidden, there are some silver linings!

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The Silver Linings (oil on 5X7 canvas; available)

One of the ways I remind myself of this is by listing the good times I have had recently:

  • Mini art vacation last month
  • Haunted house on Halloween
  • Steampunk festival
  • Shopping (for office-wear for my new job)
  • That’s right, I got a new full-time job! It is with the state as an environmental health scientist.

When you list all your fun times like this (even if you were in pain during some those times, or crashed afterwards — which I did), you realize that all is not dark and gloomy with your world. Life is not all that disappointing as it might seem right now.

3. Showing yourself some self-compassion

Whether or not anything in the toolkit helps you feel better, it’s always good to show yourself a bit of compassion regardless. The idea of self-compassion is to treat yourself like you would treat a good friend. Be kind to yourself as you would to a friend.

Self-Compassion Teapot

This one in particular is a work in progress for me. When I feel like I am “wasting” my time in bed, I try to remind myself that resting when I feel down and out is hardly “wasting” time! In fact, it is the only thing to do! I am being more efficient with my time by recharging when needed; if I kept pushing through, I would only prolong the flare and be less productive for longer.

So don’t berate yourself for the rest you need. Try not to begrudge a bit of comfort eating, or the pleasures of binge-watching Netflix shows. Or give yourself time to weep, if you so feel; allow yourself the space to be unhappy. Disappointments lose a lot of their edge after you have just allowed the wave to wash over you like a tide. Every tide eventually ebbs.

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Though I placed a lot of the examples of my tools in context of this past week, all of these work for much bigger disappointments as well — such as the mega-disappointment of dealing with a chronic illness in the first place.

For example, my new job as an environmental health scientist with the state government is one of those “equally exciting alternatives” to my plans in academia! And if I think back to all the years that I was in high school and college, the years I spent doing the science I loved, the time I spent in the company of colleagues and friends I loved, those are some very good times indeed! My life has been worthwhile through storms I have weathered before I developed fibromyalgia, and will continue to be so as I weather this one as well. And as for self-compassion, that’s a worthy attainment regardless of whether you are ill, but especially if you are chronically and invisibly ill. When the world misunderstands and mistreats you, you may be the only one showing yourself some much-needed kindness.

I hope that my toolkit give you ideas to develop your own tools to fight the disappointments that a chronic illness might bestow upon you. And if you’re a veteran chronic illness warrior with some tools of your own, I invite you to share them below so others reaching this blog may benefit from your experiences as well!

Gentle hugs,

Fibronacci

 

*If you’re curious regarding what I am reading at the moment, it is Martha Mason’s autobiography “Breath,” where she talks about how she lived a fulfilling life of over 70 years, ~60 of which were spent in an iron lung following a childhood bout of polio. In fact, the idea for this topic on how I deal with (far lesser) disappointments came from my musings of this book!

 

Each painting has a story, one that I strive to tell here. Since many of them have to do with my journey with fibromyalgia, 20% of all yearly sales income from my paintings will go to the American Fibromyalgia Syndrome Association (AFSA), who fund research into this poorly understood condition. If the paintings and/or the cause touch your heart, as they do mine, please feel free to contact me through my Facebook page for more information. Thank you for accompanying me on this journey!

Fighting the Denial of a Chronic Illness

I had initially intended my last article to be the final chapter in the Acceptance series of posts. However, recently a friend asked me a very poignant question borne of that post, which prompted this one. It is sort of an extension on my last post on “how to seek acceptance,” in answer to her question:

How do you fight the denial that creeps up even you mentally decide that acceptance in the best way forward?

In my best attempt at a response, I thought I would share my story, with more personal details than the previous one, about how I fought denial while in search of acceptance.

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The convoluted path to acceptance

If you’re a frequent reader of this blog, you probably know that I used to be a very ambitious, go-getter type of person. I worked hard, and for the most part, enjoyed working hard because I enjoyed my work! The body was just a vehicle to get me about, nothing that needed any tremendous amount of attention. The idea of “listening to the body” was fairly foreign, it sounded “whiny” to me, like a hypochondriac. And this attitude meant I landed myself in frequent flares because I would ignore my body and what it was trying to say to me.

My avoidance of what the body was trying to tell me was not without reason. I felt like if I were to listen to it, I would never do anything, because I was always tired and achy and never really wanted to do anything at all! Every morning was a struggle just to rise and dress for work (and it kind of is even now). Mind over body, I kept telling myself, however. I just needed to will myself into breaking through the chronic illness mode. But the walls proved harder than I expected. And I almost always lost that battle.

body-mind

It took me a lot of soul searching to realize that listening to my body is not being beholden solely to its desires.

I was afraid the latter would trap me into the “this is all that is possible” box, and I would not be able to see opportunities outside the box, even if they beckoned at me. I refused to accept all that my body felt or felt possible of it, but I realized that I needed to hear what it said. Then I could evaluate it in my mind, and decide on the best course of action. Mind and body needed to go hand in hand, not fight against each other. The mind still rules, but uses the body’s counsel, as it were.

And that, in a nutshell, is the essence of what “acceptance” has meant for me: Listen to the body; push it but without pushing it over the edge. The mind is still the king, the one who ultimately decides what to do, but one who uses the queen’s (body’s) guidance and counsel. It does not have to always do what the queen wants, but the mind-king must keep the queen-body in the back of his mind so as to not offend her. This idea of acceptance is distinct from “denial,” where the mind rules entirely by itself; and far from “resignation,” where the chronically ill body calls all the shots.

What convinced me to finally embrace this meaning of acceptance (and quit denying my body all of the time) were three pointed realizations, that I arrived at through many months of soul searching and internal dialogues:

1. The first thing I realized is that my old state is not coming back – and certainly not if I keep fighting myself like this!

Educating myself about FM and chronic fatigue helped me the most to come to this realization. Current understanding suggests that these are disorders of central sensitization. A maestro from hell, the brain and nerves in a fibromyalgiac have become so good at shooting off pain signals that they overreact to every perceived stimulus by doing just that. Fatigue and sleep quality are believed to linked to similar pathways, thus making us feel tired all the time (as if just fighting the pain wasn’t tiring enough!). The upshot of learning the science behind the condition was the recognition that fighting my body, and in turn having more pain because of it, is only setting me up for long term failure. The more practice the nervous system gets at sending pain signals, the better it is ever going to get at it by strengthening all those overactive pain-response pathways even more. Therefore, in relieving my body of as many perceived pain signals as possible, like allowing myself to rest as needed, I am really doing myself a favor. Perhaps, in time, it might even allow the brain a chance to “cool off” its pain response a bit.

'Slow down - you'll live longer,'
The wisdom of a snail

If you are curious to learn more about central sensitization, check out this video in the blog Sunlight in Winter, whose author does a beautiful job of spreading awareness for the science behind the syndrome in patient-understandable knowledge.

2. The knowledge of the science behind central sensitization made me realize that I needed a truce with my body. And the said truce is my only hope of getting my life back.

It may not be the life I had initially planned, but if I didn’t make some kind of peace with my disorder, I would not have any kind of life at all! Getting this through my thick skull was a huge step towards acceptance for me.

This truce was not giving in to the disease, or resigning away to the illness, but simply making a conscious decision to listen to my body more. Like most things in life, it is of course easier said than done. I have struggled with it off and on, along with my faith that this is the sensible thing to do, and I am still in the process of learning how to listen well.

As a scientist, I am quite used to observing the outside word, our experimental universes. But rarely do we use ourselves as the subjects, while also trying to be the objective observer of ourselves! I have found that it can be quite difficult at first, and really easy to slip up on even after doing it for a while. But what has probably helped me the most to detach and observe myself in as unbiased a way as possible is mindfulness meditation. I have trained myself to keep a piece of me in my head to keep a watch over myself, my thoughts and my body. Sometimes this watchkeeper may bring to my attention my negative train of thought, or at others, remind me to relax my shoulders and fix my posture.

Created with Microsoft Fresh Paint
Mind and body must work together to find peace

Many of my blog posts emanate from me tapping into this watchkeeper to see what she has observed, and then the posts are the results of my analysis on those observations. She has given me many insights into my thoughts and feelings, especially on the more unpleasant aspects of dealing with a chronic illness. I am not a believer in wishing negative thoughts and feelings away (I know from experience they don’t go anywhere, they just fester under the surface). So I decided to work through them by writing/blogging. Aside from being cathartic, I have also come to greatly appreciate the support of others in the chronic illness community, especially those of us who are also young, and face that additional stigma of “oh-but-you’re-so-young,-how-could-you-possibly-be-sick.” Being around others with similar conditions and associated feelings, and being able to share in their challenges validated my own.

Through my blogging experience, I also realized that being surrounded by accepting people also promotes acceptance in one’s own heart. You see that a chronic illness does not have to be the end of the world, that it is possible to fight it without killing yourself (metaphorically) in the process, and that there can be a life after chronic illness. I think all of these factors played a part in my being able to fight the denial that kept creeping up from time to time.

3. As I slowly came to terms with the idea of acceptance, I realized that not everything about my new life with FM was bad.

It’s just that the benefits in my new life aren’t always the things that are thought very highly of in our fast-paced modern society. For example, I am now a much calmer person, more patient than I used to be. But that permanently changed how my boss views me, because in academia if you’re not a highly ambitious overachiever, you might as well be nothing. But in my personal life, or even my professional life (as a teacher and a mentor), I realize the patience that I have gained has served me well. I feel, overall, more balanced in many ways than before, when I lived a lopsided workaholic world all the time. I have been able to reconnect with my husband, and feel a measure of mental peace that I never knew could be possible.

This recognition, that it’s not been all bad since FM struck, was a major leap forward towards accepting my my chronic condition.

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Seeing the forest through the trees . . .

These three major realizations, mostly arrived at through internal deliberations, were my stepping stones to a point where I could stop kidding myself that the chronic illness doesn’t exist, or that I can somehow “wish it away.” Once I had these down, the activities I described in my last post helped me work through my thoughts and feelings (many of the ones I have talked about here), which helped me inch closer every day towards embracing acceptance.

Acceptance of a chronic illness, however, is a very private matter, and can mean something different to each sufferer. So I, by no means, wish to suggest that this is a fool-proof how-to guide that should work for everyone. This is just my story. It is my hope that reading this story might trigger thoughts in someone else in a similar boat, so that they can make their own journey, taking their own private paths, towards their own personal goal of acceptance. In there, lies my satisfaction as a chronic illness blogger.

Gentle hugs,

Fibronacci

 

MORE IN THE ACCEPTANCE SERIES:
Part I: A Lesson in Perspective and Acceptance
Part II: What is “Acceptance”?
Part III: How Acceptance can lead to Happiness
Part IV (A): Seeking a State of Acceptance 
Part IV (B): Fighting the Denial of a Chronic Illness

 

READ MORE ON ACCEPTANCE AND HAPPINESS:
On Acceptance and Healing
What does it mean to be chronically ill and happy?

Reflections on Graduate School, Academia, and the Way Forward

This week, I successfully defended my doctoral dissertation, and added my name to a long list of Ph.D.s in biology – and a shorter list of those with a chronic illness.

title_ _Brain-body problem_ - originally published 10_1_2010 - Jorge ___
How a fibromyalgiac gets a Ph.D.!

As I have researched the case for disabled and/or chronically ill scientists, I realized that there may actually be more of us out there, all hiding our own plights (if invisible), so as not to be viewed “differently” at best, or ostracized at worst, by our colleagues. Many have quit science altogether because of its notoriously performance-driven culture, which allows little room to show “weakness.” Yet there may be many more of us who are still striving for our own goals in science, wishing to contribute our curiosity and intellect to better the world, and wanting to make a mark independent of our diagnoses. My thoughts are for all of us today.

Featured image: Distorted Reflections (8X10, oil on canvas)

I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia halfway through graduate school. I have been tackling random aches and pains, migraines, etc. since my teen years, but sometimes I wonder if the grad school lifestyle is what triggered any latent tendencies for central sensitization, leading to fibromyalgia.

I have no regrets, however. I always thought that if mathematics and physics are what helps us understand the universe and everything in it, biology is what helps us understand why we can even think about it! So to be able to reach a terminal degree in biology, understand ourselves from a molecular standpoint, showed me that I am capable of not just partaking in this world, but also contributing to it. Here, finally, I could apply my logical and analytical thinking towards human health, instead of just using it to aggravate my parents who had no time to argue.

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What NOT to say to a chronically ill person

I will admit that at times I thought of quitting, and I am glad that I did not. I was lucky enough to have projects that allowed me to be very prolific through the first couple of years, so I was well on my way towards a successful Ph.D. before FM even hit me. It would have been sad to see that work not reach fruition. I was also able to wrack up enough “karma points” by then, through my diligence and good reputation, that I could afford to slow down but still keep trudging. Luckily, graduate school in an academic institution affords the kind of flexibility that I may never experience in any other setting. So all the reasons to quit were psychological, nothing logistical.

Psychology can be powerful enough to transform us and shape our decisions. With some practice, and within reason, we can learn retrain our brains to think of current obstacles as future achievements. The hardest part about continuing grad school was not that I felt I couldn’t do the work. It was, instead, the loss of respect I felt at every turn when I could not keep up my former hours, or work at the same speed – the perception that I was now somehow weak or less than I was before. A large part of this was not necessarily just other people, but also “academic conditioning” that was haunting me from within my subconscious. But regardless of this general no-room-for-weakness atmosphere, or perhaps precisely because of it, I learned to see myself as quite the opposite of how they would have liked to paint me.

I realized that, because of my experiences, I was stronger and more than I was before!

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Anima (8X10, oil on canvas) — my internal warrior & heroine!

One thing I recognized since being more selectively open about my diagnosis is that everyone is fighting their own battles. But one is not made a hero for just fighting, or even winning, a battle. One is made a hero for how they fight it. I decided I was going to fight mine, and fight mine well. I felt increasingly that it was not enough, any longer, to just try to be a good graduate student, or strive for women scientists, or be a feminist voice for career-women in the conventional sense. I had to find within me to be more than that.

I decided that I will strive to be a better person because of my struggles, internally as well as externally. 

I will learn to be more compassionate (towards myself, as well as others who may not always be understanding of my condition); I will try to reengage in interests I may have lost touch with (so I am not beholden to the one deity, science); and I will be even more introspective than I was before, learn more about myself, so I can carve out a new identity for myself as I move forward.

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Drawn into the Light (7X14, oil on canvas)

Once upon a time, I used to be naive enough to think you can get whatever you want, be whatever you want, as long as you work hard enough for it. But life makes too many decisions for you, and often at very critical stages, so that is not always possible. Once upon a time, I had dreams of being able to follow my intellectual curiosity wherever it took me. The reality, however, is that if I did that, I would be potentially looking at 60-hour work weeks with little time for rest. I would be a flaring mess of pain and fatigue if I followed that route!

But it is not impossible to reimagine ourselves, our interests, our desires, and channel them into another path. The last two years of my life, trudging through grad school with FM, I have spent a lot of time focused inward. I have questioned what I like and why I like it, and how I can do it differently in a way that is conducive to a healthier lifestyle. I have also had to untrain my brain from thinking my intellectual pursuits are automatically married to academia. Once I did that, I could see the different possibilities that may still be out there for me.

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Reimagine the possibilities!

So by no means is this the end of the road for me. I like to think of it as a fresh beginning. I have gained insights through my years as a graduate student with a chronic illness that I could not have gained otherwise. It formed a preface to my life’s goal, which is learning how to merge my health needs with my intellectual ones without completely giving up my ambitions. The next years will write the chapters on how (and if) I am successful in ever attaining it.

I look forward in continuing my journey forward, and sharing any insights with you. Thank you for accompanying me so far in this roller-coaster ride that led to my Ph.D.!

Love,

Fibronacci

Divine Retribution

Monday

Summer was officially at an end. I was consumed by a feeling of how little I had accomplished over the last 3-4 months.

I felt I was becoming lazy, and too used to being “comfortable.” Grad students aren’t meant to comfortable! So what if I felt tired? Graduate school is notorious for sleepless nights! Yes I was always achy, but my pain is not that bad! I should be able to push through the tiredness and the pain. Enough with “babying” myself. Mind over body, I told myself. I could do this if I really put my mind to it.

I know this kind of thinking is stupid! But at the time I wasn’t thinking straight:

I spent practically all summer in a never-ending flare, basically at a new sub-normal, and I was frustrated with it. I had just begun to figure out my new normal, but before I could even settle down, I was forced another level down. The pain has been so deep and constant that I often don’t even realize how much pain I have been battling until the shroud lifts for a moment.

My life felt out of balance and I was having to figure everything out anew, and I was tired of it. I was tired of being on the roller-coaster. And in my mental fatigue, I was beginning to doubt myself and my own feelings regarding my health. I was beginning to wonder if it was all in my head, if I was essentially making it up – and if so, maybe I’d be better off just ignoring the assertions my body was making, and eventually I might snap out of it!

I doubt I truly meant to be as cruel to myself as I was. It was a moment of weakness when I gave in to my own personal critic. Left alone, it would have been forgotten in a few weeks as I regained my mental balance. But spiteful words released into the ether rarely dissipate on their own. And this time, they were picked up by the wind and heard by the universe. Loud and clear.

Tuesday-Wednesday

I stuck to my vow to try to push myself just a bit more – I shortened my rest time after PT on Wednesday, and tried to go to work early. I drank more coffee to stave off the sleepiness that almost always engulfs me afterwards. It sort of worked. I was beginning to feel that I could do this!

Wednesday afternoon

I had noticed the traffic was unusually heavy that day. This remained the case the whole afternoon, even when I went to pick up my husband from work. And got even worse as I tried to make my way back to the lab. I was beginning to get seriously achy and tired by now.

This might not sound like much for a normal person, but sitting for long periods of time is extremely painful for me. And when I am driving, it takes up extra pieces of my energy pie in addition to just sitting. And now after exercising and spending several hours on the road, every minute that my foot pressed the brake, I could feel my back breaking. Not to mention, every thing took three times as long because we were moving at snail’s pace!

It was 10 PM when I finally got home. I was now out and about for over 12 hours. Needless to say, I was practically dead.

Thursday

Despite the “resolution,” I decided to take it kindly on myself that morning. I limped into work by noon. My boss must have noticed my tardiness, because he made some snarky comment implying my ineptitude.

Friday

I did not feel too bad most of the day. I thought the extra rest the morning before had done the trick! I drank extra coffee again, and reduced the after-PT rest time so I could go back to work sooner. I thought this was working out pretty OK so far, and I wasn’t really even pushing that much! Essentially, I thought I had gotten away with it!

That night, my husband suggested going out to eat. I did not resist the suggestion at first, but felt very put off by the crowd at a couple of the places we drove past. We settled for Chinese take-out, and got our favorite. After a couple of bites of the “amazing chicken,” it hit me.

I felt a swoon come over me, followed by rush of nausea. I suddenly felt I had sprinted a marathon, and needed to throw up – out of exhaustion – at the finish line. I couldn’t finish eating and needed to lie down immediately.

Yes, I had crashed. I should have known it was coming, but I had thought (hoped!) that I had gotten away with it.

I hadn’t.

Saturday-Sunday

All throughout the weekend, I continued to feel like a train had run over me; and then once the gates lifted, every car that was stopped behind the tracks for a mile, also ran over me one after the other.

For large parts of it, I could barely get up from bed to even use the bathroom. I have no appetite. The fatigue still has me by the throat. I have never had chemotherapy, so I cannot be sure – but I think this must be what chemo-exhaustion feels like.

Divine retribution for my stupid, stupid thinking!

Mind over body is all well and good, but the body always has the last say. The exhaustion that comes with a chronic illness is not like regular tiredness. And the pain of fibromyalgia is not like just getting random aches and pains. One does well to always remember that!

Love,

Fibronacci

Featured painting: Dream Passage (8X10, oil on canvas)

Discovering Self-Compassion

A few days ago, I wrote a contemplative post, wondering how much I might be catastrophizing my own pain and giving it more attention than it needed. Ironically, I was in some intense pain when I wrote that after being advised repeatedly to use mind over body and ignore the pain.

Yesterday, I was in the same spot again, but ultimately broke down and took my pain medication. A few hours later, I noticed that it had taken the edge off the pain. It was now down to a level I could live with. And it was then that it hit me! I am already using all kinds of mind over body tactics to keep myself active and moving and involved with life. If it is only after taking the “emergency pain pill” and extra muscle relaxers that the pain is down to a manageable level – not gone, mind you – then how much worse must it have been before?

I would never treat anybody else in that kind of pain with as much insensitivity as I treated myself. So why did I treat myself like that? I would never disbelieve another person if they expressed that much pain. I would never ask them to just not pay attention to it or act like they are making it out to be worse than it truly is. So why did I disbelieve my own pain and wonder if I am catastrophizing?

heart-mind

I think part of the reason is that, as a scientist, I am loathed to take subjective data at face value. And pain levels are just that! Even so, I feel like I often view my own situation with objective lenses from time to time, so there is no real reason for me to invalidate subjective data coming from myself. There is no prior evidence of me acting like a baby  or engaging in extended pity fests. If anything, I am always extra tough on myself. And now, my naturally harsh inner critic seems to have internalized things others say or views of chronic pain patients that the society holds, and is belittling me for admitting when the pain gets out of hand. And as an objective observer of myself, I can see that this is akin to re-victimizing the victim for an event they could not control.

As a person who has counseled child abuse and domestic violence victims, I couldn’t dream of saying anything that would make their pain feel invalidated. I have always encouraged them to admit their own anguish – if only to themselves – so they can work through it. And I must treat myself the same way.

Self-Compassion Teapot

In many ways, I feel the pain has robbed me of my youth, my dreams, my spontaneous adventurous nature. And that kind of pain and anguish is difficult to ignore. Both physically and emotionally. And I need to be OK with admitting that to myself. Not suppress it or call myself a whiney-baby for feeling it. I wouldn’t say that to a friend, if we had swapped places. So why should I say it to myself?

Ultimately, nobody can know my body as well as I do. So I need to take a stand for it when it needs me to. If I wouldn’t doubt the validity of a friend’s complaints who was in my place, I shouldn’t doubt my body’s either. I need to turn off the inner critic and take care of myself as I would a dear friend. I have never listened to “society” or “other people” when I have cared for or counseled my friends in difficult positions. And I shouldn’t allow society or people to influence how I treat myself either.

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It has been a long journey for me, discovering self-compassion. I started it a long time ago when caring for my inner child overcoming various unpleasant repressed memories. I may have gone off-track for a while. But I am grateful for the turn of events that has brought me back!

Love,

Fibronacci