Checked out, but checking in (with pain)

Why facing pain is better than trying to ignore it

The end of March brought some quality family time in the sun for a much-needed break from the Colorado winter’s early dark evenings and crisp morning chills. While I easily turned on my “out of office” before hitting the airport, I felt wound tight after an intense week of deadlines and tasks to get ready for a week away. Long days bled into evenings, meaning that I missed opportunities to stretch my legs and get fresh air, and with each lost moment to care for my physical being, I felt my body’s offense to my lack of attention. Despite this, I pressed on and ignored my flaring pain as we approached vacation.

This is a common strategy for those living in chronic pain, to “push down” and ignore pain’s presence. It is how we believe we must adapt to get by and manage the day to day, until we’re completely depleted. In the past this was my regular, “go to” strategy. Pretend the pain is not there and maybe I can trick myself into this being so? But as I’ve learned over the course of the last year through readings and working with pain experts, ignoring chronic pain does not work and will never work.

Ignoring pain is misaligned with how the brain interprets it. As I shared in my posting on the brain’s role in pain, for most people in chronic pain, the brain’s neuropathways are dysfunctional, and the pain is a broken record telling us something is dangerous even when it isn’t. When I ignore my pain, my brain allows that record to keep skipping, in a never-ending loop. As the loop continues, the brain gets smarter and smarter at trying to protect me, and the hard wiring to pain becomes stronger and stronger.

But what would happen if I turned my old ways of dealing with pain on its head and faced pain and acknowledged it? This is not about hyper-focusing on pain, but rather facing it objectively and clearly, with a sense of curiosity that lacks judgement. This idea grounds various behavioral health therapies such as pain reprocessing therapy and cognitive behavioral therapy, both which have been found to reduce or eliminate pain and require acknowledging pain’s presence. Studies have found that acceptance of pain is associated with lower pain levels, less psychological distress, and better biopsychosocial functioning.

While I have come to understand that awareness of my pain is necessary to manage its role in my life, it is not such an easy task due to deeply embedded behaviors I’ve become accustomed to over nearly 10 years. So, I’ve been working with a pain coach, a person dedicated to helping me better understand the complexities of my pain and how to alter its impact on my life. Before checking out for vacation, we met, and I let him know I was looking forward to getting away from the daily grind.

While checking out of daily emails, chores, and the back-to-back Zoom calls would be amazing, my coach gave me some homework. “I would like you to consider not checking out from your pain Mara.” Oh great. I’d love to do the opposite. He explained that I had a great opportunity while away to evaluate my pain and how it changes with a new environment. You see, the evidence shows that when we shake up the way we have been doing things to accommodate chronic pain some interesting things can happen, including less pain.

So instead of ignoring my pain while drinking my margarita at dinner, or relaxing at the pool, I took his advice and paid attention. I listened to pain as we drove through the Everglades. I observed it when I snorkeled in the Gulf. I noted the twinges and zaps of pain while swimming with my kids.

But I tried to have this awareness with curiosity. In the past the judgement would have been fierce. “I hate this pain. It is so bad.” “I never get a break. This pain will never end!” Curiosity meant asking questions about what I was experiencing and leaving my normal reactions at bay. How was the pain different than at home? Could I notice a differences even if small? How was it the same? What did it feel like? I used somatic tracking to gain new awareness of how my pain presents itself. I breathed through pain and reminded myself that I was safe and that physical activities were not going to hurt me. I approached this one-week experiment with the goal of learning something.

What did I learn?

I am still learning how to understand my pain and reduce its role in my daily life but my vacation experience of “checking in” with pain taught me:

• A change in environment can impact pain (I did feel better) so shaking things up at home should also be a strategy.

• I can participate in physical activities that may hurt but won’t do damage. Being less fearful is an important aspect of this work (more on this in a later post).

• I can be aware of pain’s presence with a curious mindset, leading to less worry, frustration, and stress.

• Acknowledging pain without judgement can be empowering.

More pain “experiments” are in my future. Perhaps in yours also? Consider evaluating pain with an inquisitive mindset. See what happens. You may be surprised by what you find.