on pain

I've been thinking about pain lately, probably because I've been in pain from dental surgery for the past week. I was asked an interesting question by the dentist after I told him that I've always experienced a great deal of pain during dental work. Sometimes I react because I anticipate pain. He asked if that is how I experience pain in general and elsewhere. And the answer is a resounding no. Usually I have a very high tolerance for pain. One of my yoga teachers told me that I am a "pusher" because I will push myself to my edge, and yet I will recognize and respect that edge. Normally pain is not a deterrent to a given challenge for me; rather, pain has become a signal to become aware and do something different.

The tendency in this country is to take "pain killers". After my dental surgery I was prescribed vicodin, and I said that I would rather not take it. (The one other time I had taken it was for back pain, and because I started to hallucinate, I decided that I would rather deal with the pain.) At the dental clinic they looked at me with disbelief and said: But you get to go home and take vicodin and eat ice cream! I said that I'd rather go to yoga, and they laughed. I did take the vicodin just during the night. Several hours after I stopped taking it I started throwing up violently. I even had to pull over in going home traffic to be ill in the street. When I ended up back in the dental clinic due to increased pain 5 days later, they remarked on how much they had cut me up during my surgery and again suggested I take the vicodin. But this time I refuse. I would rather work through the pain than be in a fog of pain.

Here's the thing. I would rather face the pain than become numb because I know what it's like to spend years being numb, having lived through an emotionally abusive relationship for 8 years. Surprisingly, many people would rather live in pain than do something about it - because change might be even more painful. In last night's yoga class the teacher had us experiment with an "unplugged" feeling in our postures before then plugging in with awareness. I am grateful that I learned to stop seeing myself as a victim because that is when I finally plugged into my life. The lights turned back on and have stayed on. I now understand that I had given my consent to be treated badly. Five years later I love my life with all of its ups and downs and can't imagine living with that kind of misery again. Thankfully I will never be in a relationship with that person again. Now he treats me with respect, and I doubt that he would ever treat me that badly again. But I had to stop giving consent and I had to look inside at the real cause of my pain, the pain that said I wasn't worth a better life.

Last night my yoga teacher Tammy talked about Pema Chodron, someone who has inspired me a great deal. Pema talks about how many people prefer pain to uncertainty. The problem is that pain can become such a familiar companion that we don't grow from our circumstances. While I think that pain is a part of life, I don't think we have to ruled by it.

Next week I have been asked to speak to a group about my story of living with the alcoholism of another. Public speaking is not my favorite thing, but I think it's important to share our stories of difficulty and hope. While it was painful to lose my father to alcoholism, it is even more painful to watch my son go through the same thing. That is why, even though my ex doesn't pay child support or help with his schooling, I will always make sure my son gets to see his father. I will also do everything I can to give my son tools for plugging into his own life and being present to all the beauty this life has to offer.

"Life is glorious, but life is also wretched. It is both. Appreciating the gloriousness inspires us, encourages us, cheers us up, gives us a bigger perspective, energizes us. We feel connected. But if that's all that's happening, we get arrogant and start to look down on others, and there is a sense of making ourselves a big deal and being really serious about it, wanting it to be like that forever. The gloriousness becomes tinged by craving and addiction. On the other hand, wretchedness--life's painful aspect--softens us up considerably. Knowing pain is a very important ingredient of being there for another person. When you are feeling a lot of grief, you can look right into somebody's eyes because you feel you haven't got anything to lose--you're just there. The wretchedness humbles us and softens us, but if we were only wretched, we would all just go down the tubes. We'd be so depressed, discouraged, and hopeless that we wouldn't have enough energy to eat an apple. Gloriousness and wretchedness need each other. One inspires us, the other softens us. They go together."
— Pema Chödrön