One’s Relationship to Pain

Ten years ago, I was diagnosed with ankylosing spondylitis. Since then, pain–in some form or another–has been my constant companion. Today, we’re going to address one’s relationship to pain. What’s a person to do if it’s right there all the time?

Ankylosing spondylitis is like if Wolverine of the X-Men existed in the real world. Instead of having a mutant healing factor, he’d have a mutated body attacking itself. Instead of bone claws, the claws would emerge at inopportune times on the spine. And instead of feral rages, he’d get these overwhelming urges to drop what he’s doing and instantly go to sleep. Not the most exciting backstory for adventures, to say the least.

I started my diagnosed journey with dark humor. Rather than referring to my A.S. as an incurable disease, I called it my terminal disease, because it would be lingering there with me at death. Naturally, this was the wrong way to look at it, and it only made the pain more noticeable and my overall outlook more grim.

When prescribed pain killers, I didn’t really notice any difference. I tried experimental helminthic therapy, but I didn’t see much change there, either. The only thing that seemed to really make a difference was in changing my mindset.

The Healing Power of Change

First, I vowed to quit seeking pity, which meant I was done calling myself terminal. Then, I began pondering the positives of the pain I felt: Being reminded I was alive, building up tolerance, preparing myself to face greater hardships–that sort of thing.

Tony Robbins once said, “Change happens when the pain of staying the same is greater than the pain of change.”

Whenever I felt the physical pain of waking up each morning, I eventually got tired of feeling sorry for myself. In sensing that pain in the present moment, I was far more likely to follow my dreams and try new things, because the pain of failure suddenly felt less daunting.

Was that the purpose of my chronic pain? To force the courage I had been praying for? To push me to finally accomplish those things that brought me fulfillment? I think that’s part of it, but there’s more.

Memento Mori

Marcus Aurelius, famed Roman emperor and Stoic philosopher, often meditated on his own mortality. That was at the core of his Stoicism. In Meditations, he wrote, “You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think.” (Attentive readers will remember that Meditations is on my Knowing What to Read list.)

Aurelius’ concept of “Memento Mori” (Latin for “Remember you must die”) is a great motivator, especially in the presence of pain. Sure, you may hurt now, but at least you’ve staved off the abrupt buzzkill of death. What are you gonna do with that time you’re given?

When distracted by that question, I find myself less conscious of my pain. Just like service to others combats depression (which often piggybacks on pain), I’ve found that service to a greater good combats one’s awareness of pain. Chemically speaking, that’s because oxytocin, serotonin and dopamine are released when we help others, which boosts our mood and counteracts the stress hormone cortisol.

One’s Relationship to Pain

Essentially, what I’m saying is to reconcile one’s relationship to pain, it’s worth consciously living one’s life and celebrating that very life (knowing that both life and pain are temporary). In being both conscious and celebratory, you’re taking charge of your circumstances, no matter how intense the accompanying pain may be.

To consciously live your life, I recommend mapping out what you’d like to accomplish today, this week, this month, this year and so on. Embrace your inner dreaming child while intentionally tuning out society’s ever-present cynicism.

To celebrate life, I recommend living in the moment. Embracing those oft-overlooked elements that make life beautiful: a well-crafted song, a captivating piece of art, the sights and sounds around you that remind you that you belong in this world in this moment.

As I sit here typing, the ice pack numbing various portions of my back reminds me that I am mortal. At times, I have limitations to what I can physically do. My strengths can offset those limitations. They won’t, however, offset the limitations by default. It’s up to me to consciously build my strengths and turn them into weapons of mass production. Like Wolverine, only different.

What pain management techniques work for you? I welcome your thoughts in the comments section below!

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