The truth about emotional pain - one POV

Art by Katlyn Linton

'I'm going to die' and 'I can't do this' and 'I hate myself' are common thoughts these days.' she reports.

She has become pretty self aware of her self talk, so pays attention when those words come up and it typically means it's time to hunker down. When her pain gets this bad, on the 'worst' end of the spectrum she needs to go into safety plan mode. She describes how she will be stopped in her tracks to breathe or to whisper quiet encouragement to herself trying to prevent a full on panic attack. The child's pose offers some relief. On days like this she often slips into that position.

She has learned the skills to identify where in her body she feels the pain. She knows to tap into that specific part and get familiar with it and even have a conversation with that part of her body. 'what is the nausea trying to tell you?', 'what would your heart say if it could?' Her body has a lot to say.

She says how embarrassed she is by being disabled by this type of pain again and wishes there wasn't so much stigma to calling it what it is. Deep embarrassment like humiliation, it doesn't seem fair to add that to the mix. She goes on to talk about her fatigue. She asked plaintively 'how is it I still have all of this to move?' She is shocked by the volume of emotion she seems to be carrying that still needs to be processed. Where is it stored? Where is it coming from? There is all sorts of stigma as to why she can't be open and real about what she's going through. She coaches others on the importance of self care and the safety in vulnerability but she doesn't feel that same safety to be real. That adds another level of pressure to keep everything tightly contained.

'Self care is a luxury' was said on a high school TV series she was watching with her son. In the context of the show this statement was made in relation to Maslow's hierarchy of needs and social determinants of health. If you're a person preoccupied with keeping a roof over your head or accessing potable water, 'self care' is embarrassingly privileged. It's also difficult to think about preventative work like self care from the fetal position. She wants to know how to get from the fetal position to empowerment.

She knows the drill well. Acknowledge the validity of where she's at. Feel it. Sit with it. Time. It takes time. And applying practical skills. And possibly shifting expectations? She considers accepting that periodic and cyclical big painful feelings are to be expected, she considers accepting this fact might minimize some of the self imposed judgment and embarrassment, and normalize that this is an okay human response.

She goes back to focusing on where the pain is in her body. It's all so big her body can hardly contain it. When she releases the emotion there is no sound. Her whole body is expressing itself attempting to release the depths of her silence. When she is able to talk she describes the pain in her heart and chest so big that it feels broken, that it radiates throughout her body to a point that her skin hurts. She is nauseous and would welcome the release of a purge. She is at times doubled over from the queasy unsteady feeling of no ground beneath her. She describes how the extreme weight on her chest creates a matching compulsion to throw something like that of the weight of a car. She says quietly, 'I am not okay'.

In time she goes on to describe how the pain includes grief, a real sadness from a perpetual loss. She also names fear. She has a feeling that is ominous, it is a knowing that she is not just enduring this current pain but there is something equally terrifying around the corner. That makes her sick. And then, for the first time she describes anger. The anger is huge. It is unfamiliar and that's scary too. She isn't sure she has the skills to 'appropriately' channel the anger.

She validates for herself that the content of various storylines of her personal circumstance all culminate around her has created a perfect storm that warrants this big physical and emotional response. She describes her body like a container and she's just not able to find the space to effectively cope. She's choking from it all. She likens herself to that of a big jar with stones in it, the stones are regular life pressures and the space around the stones in the jar allows for her to self manage. Then marbles are added. The pressure is tighter and now there is added sand. With the sand there is no space for the luxury of self care.

'Lord help me' she says to herself through her day. She is not religious but lines like that do come up for her. She goes on to talk about language, 'this too shall pass' is a cliche people say. 'the universe only gives you what you're strong enough to handle'. 'Fuck getting stronger!!??' she raises her voice. She doesn't want to get stronger and have to face more growth, screw it, she'd rather stay put, no need to be whole.

With an intent to close this cycle, she begins talking about the imagery that bridges her to calm. Her first 'go to' is her son's face. She smiles as soon as she pictures her son and thinks about who he is and the gift of being in his life. That helps.

She asks, 'How to release and let go of the pain so it doesn't disable me anymore?'

I find myself saying the same old cliches, which does include 'time'. Sitting with it. I remind her that she has the skills to find her way back to peace. She's proven this time and time again. I ask for her to consider the anger. What if getting familiar with the anger is along the path to wholeness and empowerment. I name what I see in that her anger has an edge of confidence. I bring up her advocacy work, anger on behalf of others. Reflect back on some of her work in aiming to right injustices and in-equity. I see that she might, for the first time, really see the injustices she's faced over the years. I validate that anger would be a fair and healthy response.

This recent culmination of circumstance just might be the perfect recipe to wake up in her the piece of herself that sees how she deserves to be treated and she will develop the skills to name this for herself and others clearly. Sure this comes with fear, yes, it's a new skill and yes, it's hard to learn new skills when you're sheltering from a storm, that's true. She considers the bridging questions of, 'what about this might be more exciting than scary?' and, 'what if speaking up for myself wasn't that scary?' all the way to 'what would empowerment actually look like and feel like?'

There is not yet a release for the sand to pour out of the jar. She's breathing until that time.

She knows to bear down into the pain, pretending it's a magical portal into something better. Until something else works, she will use her imagination.