Query Regarding My Last Post 09-05-23

A Friend asks:

What you have written about is something I think about often, Jessica. I puzzle over how some people can experience great discomfort and chronic pain, yet they carry on, and don't even talk about it much. I would like to be that kind of person, but I am SO NOT.

I mentioned two things: 1) carrying on with doing things, in spite of pain, and 2) not talking about it.

I would like to do more, because, well, it's nice to be engaged in life, or so I've heard. But the part about not talking about it... I have only one reason why I would wish to be a person who rarely talks about their pain, and that is because it's hard to be around someone who always does, especially when you can't make it better. I know this because it was common in my family. In fact, there was a lot of sickness that dominated my family and extended family, and I don't recall witnessing models of people carrying on with cheer or meaning in their lives that rose above their discomfort.

I HAVE witnessed this ability in some of my friends, though, and it mystifies me. My last note is related to why it mystifies me. Self-expression. When we're communing with other people, aside from when we're listening -- when we're talking, and we're feeling overwhelmed with physical discomfort, the choice not to express oneself about this very strong experience in the moment, well, that's where I get hung up. Trying to ignore that and talk about something else is what could be called "masking." Masking is a form of self-suppression, employed to try to fit in socially. It is of limited value, particularly in regard to authentic relationship.

So, you see, I'm kind of clueless. How DO you do it? Maybe it's a muscle that needs to be developed. I mean, I can actually understand the part about carrying on with activities better than the part about not talking about ongoing pain. My situation with not engaging more in life is complicated by other issues. But the part about not talking about your pain. How? I need to figure this out before my pain situations become worse or more constant.

p.s. As I read over what I wrote, I can imagine an alternative to "masking." It would be an exercise of will (as in the aforementioned muscle) to focus on something else, tune in and connect meaningfully. But that is something I was able to conceptualize; actualizing it is another matter.

My Response to my friend:

I do have a response of sorts. I'm upfront with what I'm going through at any time. So, on that rare opportunity when I do get to visit someone, here's how I might approach it. They might ask, "How have you been?"

I respond, "Oh I'm fine. I'm dealing with pain, but that's my normal." We might talk a bit more about that, or perhaps move on. I'll ask about them, and then we talk about whatever we are going to talk about it. I guess what I'm saying is, I'm upfront about where I am, I just don't obsess about it.

Another life lesson has been this. I did not do well early on with pain. But when you live with it for a few years, at least I learned to adapt, to be more comfortable with my present reality. I only take my pain meds when I go to bed at night, and I take less now than what I used to. In other words, I've learned to adapt, to be more accepting of my reality. During the day, I have a host of techniques for dealing with the pain. Certain stretches may help, and I use breathing exercises and meditation techniques to get through the worse. Plus, my recliner is just the thing to take the pressure off my spine which helps.

So right now, I'm in my office. It's just the normal pain. I've got a talk to prepare for our Kol Nidre service, so I'll work on it for a time, and perhaps do some other tasks. Over time the pain will build. I'll eat supper at around 3:30 and be in the recliner, iPad in hand or else turn on news from around the world (American news really sucks imho) and chill. At 6:30 I watch a Time Team program on UK archaeology and then in bed by 8. I may not crash but watch vids and let my mind go until I'm ready. Lol my daily routine.

Finally, we all deal with pain in our own way. But the beauty of being human is we find our own ways to cope. I no longer drive, and life is difficult. But I'm not ready to croak. I choose life.