Day One: The Door Inside
There is a door inside of me I cannot see, but I know it is there.
Somehow, this pain points to that door. Maybe pain is the door.
I can open the door now or later. I can pull it open only a crack, or I can walk right through to see what is there beyond the pain.
In my imagination I reach out inside myself, take a deep breath, and turn the handle.
I find a way to express what I sense beyond that door. I write about it, or I make a drawing or collage, or I sing, or dance, or act it out.
Today, somehow, some way, I connect with what lies beyond the door of pain within my secret self.
Somehow, this pain points to that door. Maybe pain is the door.
I can open the door now or later. I can pull it open only a crack, or I can walk right through to see what is there beyond the pain.
In my imagination I reach out inside myself, take a deep breath, and turn the handle.
I find a way to express what I sense beyond that door. I write about it, or I make a drawing or collage, or I sing, or dance, or act it out.
Today, somehow, some way, I connect with what lies beyond the door of pain within my secret self.
Day Two: Telling My Story
Have I ever told my pain story in full to anyone?
Why not? Was I afraid they wouldn’t want to know, or they wouldn’t really listen, or understand?
Today, I will find someone to talk to. A friend, a sibling, a therapist. My dog or cat. The tree in the backyard.
I will ask them to listen and not try to make it all better, not try to fix me–just witness me in silence. I will let them know that this is the most helpful and healing thing they can do for me right now.
Today I will tell someone my whole story without holding back for their sake.
Why not? Was I afraid they wouldn’t want to know, or they wouldn’t really listen, or understand?
Today, I will find someone to talk to. A friend, a sibling, a therapist. My dog or cat. The tree in the backyard.
I will ask them to listen and not try to make it all better, not try to fix me–just witness me in silence. I will let them know that this is the most helpful and healing thing they can do for me right now.
Today I will tell someone my whole story without holding back for their sake.
Day Three: Reclaiming Life
I have given pain a lot of room in my life. In a way, I moved over for it.
Perhaps pain will not readily move over for me, and I understand that. It is the nature of pain.
So, today I do one thing I love to do, even if it’s only for a brief time, and even if pain has to come with me.
I would rather share the experience with pain, if I must, than not have it at all.
Today, I reclaim the art of enjoying my life.
Perhaps pain will not readily move over for me, and I understand that. It is the nature of pain.
So, today I do one thing I love to do, even if it’s only for a brief time, and even if pain has to come with me.
I would rather share the experience with pain, if I must, than not have it at all.
Today, I reclaim the art of enjoying my life.
Day Four: The Rant
Today, I give myself ten full minutes to rant and rage about this pain, this condition, this situation.
Shouted, whispered, written, or howled. I let it out.
In the shower, into my pillow, typed into my computer, or in my car.
Ten full minutes.
And then I breathe.
Shouted, whispered, written, or howled. I let it out.
In the shower, into my pillow, typed into my computer, or in my car.
Ten full minutes.
And then I breathe.
Day Five: Laughter
Today I reclaim something valuable I thought I had lost to pain, something no one can live well without.
Today, I find at least one reason to laugh.
And then another, if I can.
And another.
Today, I reclaim my humor, and my ability to be lighthearted, even if it’s just for the duration of a silly movie.
Because if I can laugh once, even in this pain, I can laugh again.
Today, I find at least one reason to laugh.
And then another, if I can.
And another.
Today, I reclaim my humor, and my ability to be lighthearted, even if it’s just for the duration of a silly movie.
Because if I can laugh once, even in this pain, I can laugh again.
Day Six: Freedom
Just for today, I stop arguing with life about my situation.
I stop fighting with the pain I am in.
I stop fighting myself.
I take a deep breath and ask: What would I like instead?
Then I give myself the closest thing to it that I can find or create.
I stop fighting with the pain I am in.
I stop fighting myself.
I take a deep breath and ask: What would I like instead?
Then I give myself the closest thing to it that I can find or create.
Day Seven: Returning to Life
It’s easy to forget what life was like before this pain, as if pain has always been here, and always will be.
But that’s not the truth. This pain has not been here all my life. There was a beginning. And since there was a beginning, I can imagine an end.
Today, to remind myself that there is life outside of this pain, I find one thing I used to love doing before the pain came and I find a way to do it, even a little, and even if it’s only in my imagination.
And tomorrow, I do it again. And every day that I am able. I remind myself of who I was. Who I really am. Who I want to be.
But that’s not the truth. This pain has not been here all my life. There was a beginning. And since there was a beginning, I can imagine an end.
Today, to remind myself that there is life outside of this pain, I find one thing I used to love doing before the pain came and I find a way to do it, even a little, and even if it’s only in my imagination.
And tomorrow, I do it again. And every day that I am able. I remind myself of who I was. Who I really am. Who I want to be.
Image courtesy Pixabay
SUBSCRIBE
 | Sarah Anne Shockley has lived with nerve pain from Thoracic Outlet Syndrome since 2007. She is the author of The Pain Companion: Everyday Wisdom For Living With and Moving Beyond Chronic Pain, Living Better While Living With Pain, and 30 Days of Living Better While Living With Pain. |
RSS Feed
