Yesterday I completed the last part of the class "Explaining Pain".
The first part was mostly the bio-neurological aspects. It covered the technicalities of how messages are communicated within our body, and what happens in the case of someone who experiences chronic pain.
The second part, which was yesterday, suggests what we can do to change our pain experiences, to try to change the path which has become wired in our brain. I found this part of the class really interesting as well. What was different yesterday is that it struck an emotional chord with me as well. On the drive home, I was summarizing the class in my mind, when I was completely caught off guard with a wave of emotions. My eyes were filling up with tears, and I had no idea why. At that point I decided to crank the music and put the class out of my head because I was trying to drive…lol! I tend to like to see where I’m going when I’m cruising down the highway 😉
So last night I was thinking it over and trying to understand what the heck got a hold on me after class. I think it was a combination of relief and sadness, all rolled into one.
Let me explain. Up until this point I’ve survived and gotten through by forging my own set of coping skills.
What choice do you have when you have tried almost every medication, and they have all failed to bring your pain down to a manageable level? What happens when your doctor has used every trick up her sleeve, desperately trying to find a way to break the pain cycle, which has you in a tight grip? What do you do when you are constantly playing the waiting game in what we call a medical "system" (that’s a
whole other post)?
You can give up, or you can keep telling yourself that tomorrow is a new day, and each day you learn a little bit more about how you are going to keep getting through, one day at a time and when necessary, one hour at a time. You do what you have to do, to get through. As Steven Tyler said, "Fake it until you make it".
I am EXTREMELY fortunate that when I have hit times where I have felt I have no fight left and that I’m drowning, because this journey feels impossible at times, I have amazing people in my life that I can lean
on for support. They are my safety net. I can trust them to not let me fall, and to not let me give up hope for a new tomorrow. I honestly have no idea how I would have gotten through everything I have, without these incredible individuals in my life. These folks are good to the core, non-judgmental and very understanding. I love each and every one of them for being who they are.
So I think those emotions were partially a sense of relief that I don’t have to keep trying to guess and figure out every piece of this puzzle on my own anymore. I’m finally going to have guidance, and be given tool to build with, instead of using my bare hands. The sadness I was feeling was about how long it has taken to gain access to these resources. The sadness also came from realizing that I have so much more to build back that I’ve had to temporarily let slip away, just so I could focus on getting through each day. That being said, this type of sadness can be quickly replaced with joy. Joy, because I will be able to rebuild some of the things that I had to let go of, and that it was only temporary, until I could get the tools I need to work them back into my life. I know this will make sense to those of you who are chronic folks 😉
This is the beginning of yet another chapter in my book of life.
Thanks for visiting. Please come back again soon.
~ Gentle Hugs