Is it worth it?

Spending hours counting and adding and getting an advanced degree in mathematics,

Hoping that calories in minus calories out equates to a number smaller than the resting metabolic rate, but wait…

What about that donut? Do you add a point for the one with sprinkles? What if you brush most of them off?

Is it worth it?

Hiding in bathrooms, doors closed, the world screaming outside,

Heart racing, body trembling, wishing for it to end, but it can’t,

Because then they will know the truth, that you can’t do anything right, not even this.

Is it worth it?

Tiptoeing into the pantry at 1:00 a.m., desperately searching for some relief,

You can’t stand this feeling, it must go away.

Are they still sleeping? Did you hear something? What if they knew?

Is it worth it?

Screaming at one another, tears streaming, denying what you know to be true,

But what the hell does he know about your life, about being the one in your body?

What does he know about suffering?

Is it worth it?

Wishing for tomorrow, next week, next year,

Wishing for any moment but this one because you can’t stand to sit inside your skin,

Waiting for moments to pass, for the hollowness to mask the pain.

Is it worth it?

Waiting for her to come in and tell you that this can’t go on,

You already know.

Heart pounding in your chest, wondering what this all means.

Is it worth it?

Taking a step into the unknown, into a place where vulnerability lives,

They tell you that this can get better, that you don’t have to struggle anymore,

But can you believe them?

Is it worth it?

Realizing that it’s going to mean pain, but different pain,

Discovering that it’s going to take honesty and lots of courage,

You glance back at the past, and then out on to the horizon.

Is it worth it?

Yes.

This post was written as part of the Self-Discovery, Word by Word series. The Dandelion Girl is this month’s amazing host, and she’s chosen the word WORTH. To learn more and to participate, check out the details here.

{image credit :: the amazing liz song at live inspired}

When my dear friend Shannon asked me to host the November Self-Discovery, Word by Word series, I had no doubt that she would come through with a word that would totally kick my butt (in the best way possible) – and a post that would do the same.

I don’t know about for those of you who have participated in this series before, but what I tend to find is that the word chosen each month not only inspires a piece of writing, but it serves as a touch point of reflection throughout the month. Even once the post is published, I’m left with the idea turning and spinning and shifting in the recesses of my brain.

Like with gratitude, it made me more aware of all of the ways that I could build a network of gratitude practice in my daily life. Or with vulnerability, I began to notice all of the ways in which my patients are vulnerable with me – and it made me more sensitive to their openness. Or with change, I reflected all month on how each change brings with it a sense of loss – and discovery.

The same was true for this month’s word – pain. The series brought pain to the forefront of my awareness. I’m certainly no stranger to pain – my own and others’ – but laying it out front and center was a powerful experience for me. I noticed it’s changing shapes. I observed its depth and intensity. I watched it ebb and flow.

To be honest, I didn’t like it so much.

But I survived.

And that is the beauty in pain. It shows up, plops itself in front of us, makes us take a good hard look, and then it’s replaced by another feeling (or word of the month). It’s often temporary, but in its short stay can teach us more than we could ever expect.

I know I learned a great deal from the brave writers who offered their own reflections on this difficult topic. I am sure that you will too, so please take a peek at what they’ve shared:

Taron at Mind, Body, & Scroll talks about pain as a great teacher, courageously sharing her own story.

Margarita at Weightless beautifully explains how the problem with pain actually comes down to trust.

Over on Virtual Web Writer, we learn of the pain that comes from words and the way we use them.

Melanee at Looking in the Mirror shares how emotional and physical pain has shaped her life.

My own post here on NTS is about letting pain wash over us.

Vic Magary reminds us that pain signals growth.

The Dandelion Girl explains just how much power there is in experiencing painful emotions.

Mara at Medicinal Marzipan shares how she learned to say enough is enough, and stop eating her pain.

The witty and wise Debbie Scribble reminds us that pain means we’re, thankfully, not dead yet.

Thought you had surmounted pain? Learn about how Shanna at the Change Catalyst learned from her suffering.

Thanks to everyone who participated, even if you did not do so publicly! And thanks a million to Shannon for selecting an amazing word (and just being a really cool lady!).

Please contact me at nourishingthesoulblog@gmail.com or comment below if you are interested in hosting the SDWW series.

So let go, jump in,

Oh well, watcha waiting for,

It’s alright because,

There’s beauty in the breakdown.

The fact that pain is one of the most beautiful manifestations of the human condition is often little comfort when, say, your foot is stuck under the dresser you’ve just dropped on it. But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.

I’m not sadist, truly, but I feel so grateful every day to be made part of the pain that my patients endure. It’s not that I cause the suffering – I actually don’t believe we can create suffering from someone else. And this isn’t because human suffering keeps me employed, but rather because it means that my patients are truly alive. That instance in which they feel gut-wrenching emotion can be like finding a pulse on a person whose been flat-lining as the people around them squeeze their eyes tight and hold their breath.

To be fair, many of the people I work with have their endured their fair share of pain. They’re brave as hell. And I won’t go so far as to say that each of them should count their blessings every night that they have suffered. But there is something truly spectacular about pain, something magical almost.

We rage against it, our minds drawing their whips and lashing out against it’s arrival. But still it comes, sneaking in at just the moment we let our shoulders relax. Suddenly, it’s there.

Sometimes that pain is bright and colorful, a spectacle in the night sky, illuminating the murky air. Sometimes it’s penetrating, a deep ache that moans from within. Sometimes we don’t know it’s there, hiding in the recesses of our souls, until suddenly we do, and we can no longer not look.

But whatever shape it takes, however deep it’s roots reach, our pain is our smelling salts, drawing us awake and out of the unconscious abyss.

As hard as we rail against it, we are no match for pain. But suffering – that’s another story.

Pain we must endure because that’s the cost of admission to humanity. But suffering is a choice, one that comes when we do all the raging and resisting and foot stomping.

When we boil it down, we might think of suffering is the experience of pain plus fear.

It’s what happens when we tell ourselves, “I just can’t bear it!” We regail ourselves with stories of how we’re not strong enough, this is too much, we don’t deserve to feel this – or maybe we do – and that we just cannot go on living if it’s going to be this way. Suffering looks like pushing away, when pain calls for pulling in – pulling in our strongest resolve to feel.

A colleague of mine shared a metaphor with me recently. She said that it’s kind of like standing on the shore with your shins covered in water, your back to the vastness of the ocean. If we stand there long enough, letting the waves build and build and continuing to stare at the shore, we know what will happen – we’ll inevitably be knocked over. And that will hurt. But if we can just turn around, will ourselves to look at the “monster” that is working to knock us over, we see that there’s actually a sea of beauty awaiting us. And we can decide to gently take a step back – or even a step forward – bending our body so as to ride the waves rather than succumb to them.

That’s kind of what it’s like.

We’re urging everyone this month to turn around, to look at the ocean of pain in your own life, and to reflect on it openly. I hope you will take part in this month’s Word by Word series. Learn how to here.

I’m incredibly honored to have my lovely friend, Shannon, take the reigns this month and be the virtual host for November’s Self-Discovery series. I know what she has to say will get you thinking as much as it did me. Read on…

{image credit :: visha}

The ceiling of my office is peppered with colorful tiles, hand-painted by kids who provide messages of hope and triumph. Every time I take a break from my work, I look up and admire their messages of inspiration… “Scars remind us where we’ve been, determination dictates where we’re going,” “It might be stormy now, but it can’t rain forever,” “When your mind says give up, hope whispers one more try.” It’s moving, really. To say I’m inspired by these kids and their tiles is an understatement.

I’m a psychologist at a pediatric pain rehabilitation clinic and when I volunteered to host my dear friend Ashley’s Word-by-Word series I decided to choose the word I deal with on a daily basis…Pain. It’s a loaded word that means many different things to different people. Perhaps the one common thread is that most people fear it. The word “pain” has many connotations; yes it can be physical but it can also be emotional, which has the potential to be just as crippling as the physical kind. Sometimes our emotional pain leads to physical pain. And sometimes treating one can lead to improvements in the other. How many of us have developed headaches or abdominal pain during times of stress? Experienced back pain after a long hard day at the office? Suffer from migraines, ulcers, fibromyalgia, arthritis, extreme fatigue, angina…the list goes on and on. Chronic pain rates are the highest they’ve ever been, among both children and adults, and they’re only getting higher. But why? Is it the inordinate amount of stress that we incur in our daily lives or is there something bigger, something more pervasive that is causing our bodies to alert us that all is not well within?

The program where I work is for most patients 3-4 weeks and they spend their days participating in intensive physical, occupational, and psychological therapy. The kids I see are usually deconditioned from weeks, months, sometimes years of physical immobility. They’ve essentially stopped living any semblance of a normal life because of pain. The goal is to teach them to live their lives in spite of pain and to help them realize a meaningful life is possible. As one kid I know put it, “pain is pain, suffering is optional.” My role as a psychologist in this setting is to send the message that the more we neglect our bodies and live under the assumption that our emotional and physical selves are unrelated, the more likely it is the pain and all its associated symptoms will get worse. As any one of the families I’ve worked with will tell you, it’s a vicious cycle that’s hard to stop.

My favorite tile is smaller than the others. On a deep blue background, the patient chose a quote by Lance Armstrong. In cursive print, it reads, “Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.” Quitting for so many of these kids is not an option, because the alternative just won’t do. Coping with pain of any kind is never easy and sometimes it just takes a little inspiration to get through it. I’m lucky that mine comes in the form of ceiling tiles.

What are your thoughts about pain? How do you cope with it? Is it possible to live a meaningful life with pain, and how would one accomplish doing so? To participate in this month’s word-by-word series, feel free to answer any of these questions or send any thoughts/comments about “pain” to Ashley, at nourishingthesoulblog@gmail.com, post below, or link this post to yours and let Ashley know you participated. Since I don’t have a blog, she’s been so kind to let me use hers as this month’s posting forum! Ashley will post everyone’s thoughts in the round-up near the end of the month. Thanks for letting me join in on such a wonderful anthology! ~Shannon