Pain as a Teacher

In western medicine and perhaps in many parts of the world, we humans tend to view pain as the enemy. It hurts, to be sure. It is unpleasant, absolutely. But it is not our enemy. Pain is a function of the nervous system. And it is more than just touch or sensation. Of course, when you cut yourself or stub your baby toe, you feel pain. But what of those internal sensations of pain? What is the difference between a cut, for example, and the pain and anguish over a lost lover or, for that matter a lost bodily function? What is happening there?

Having been a student of psychology all of my adult life, I know for a fact that my fingers and skin do not feel and my eyes do not see. In face all of my sensory receptors (skin, eyes, ears, tongue, nose, etc) are only receptors sending messages to the brain to be understood and translated into images, sensations and memories. My brain sees. My brain feels. My brain makes meaning.

So, what happens when we are experiencing pain? Often our first reaction is that we shouldn’t be feeling this pain or that we shouldn’t have to experience it. We want it to go away before we have an opportunity to listen to it and understand its message for us. So the first step is to understand what the pain is trying to tell us. And to be certain it is far more than “ouch, I feel pain!” That is just the onset or the experience of the pain.

Pain is not simply a stimulus-response reaction: feel pain, withdraw from the pain source. Pain communicates a level of distress in the body – one that requires a specific and adaptive  response. While sometimes that response is to move away from the source of the pain, often the pain is internal and cannot be escaped. In that case, the pain is cautioning us to take a different and more care-oriented approach to what is going on. Allow me to be personally specific.

A few weeks ago I had some rather serious spinal surgery. Vertibular stenosis had constricted my spinal cord to the point that very little spinal fluid and nerve function was passing through. The surgery was necessary to restore the spinal cord to functioning and something which required removing scar tissue from the spinal cord itself. To say the spinal cord was a tad angry about that is an understatement! The many and varied pain messages sent to my brain from that area of my lumbar spine were intense and almost immobilizing.

But here is the thing: if I were to take all of the pain-numbing medications given to me, I would not know what was happening. Sure, I would be in less pain, but would that have allowed me to do the right thing? The short answer is NO! Pain became my guide. It told me where to pay attention. It informed me as to what cautions to take to avoid further injury. With the pain numbed and my brain incapacitated to the point of not perceiving the fullness of the pain, I would not know what to do or not do.

So I welcomed the pain. I embraced it as my friend and teacher. IN my recovery, some days are better than others. Some days I could walk two miles without a struggle, and the next day might require that I spend the day in relaxation and recovery. Pain told me what to do.

Now here is the thing I want to get to. Pain does not have a classification. That is, pain is not physical or mental or emotional or whatever. Pain is pain – pure and simple. So in my personal example of physical pain, it may sound simple to pay attention to the limitations pain is insisting on for my recovery. But what if that pain were emotional pain, like a heartbreak, a deep loss or a traumatic breakup? It is no different. As I said, pain is pain, and as such, pain is our guide.

In an emotional trauma, the pain you feel is just as palpable as the pain in my recovery from surgery. It is a force, a message that tells the brain that we need to take care. Something is broken or hurt and needs nurturance. You don’t get “over” grief or loss just like you don’t get over a physical injury or loss. You need to learn, says pain, is to figure out how to live with it, how to let it inform your next moves, how to be gentle with yourself as you heal.

Pain is not nasty. Pain is not the enemy. Pain is a benevolent and loving teacher or coach. I had a coach once who called the best out of each of us on the team. He wasn’t one of those “no pain, no gain” types who pushed us beyond our limits. He knew what we were capable of and what our minds were (correctly or incorrectly) telling us. And he knew how to take us to that next level. As a result, we had the first and only undefeated, untied season in our High School’s history – a feat that in 50 years has not yet been equaled. But it was because he knew the role of pain and he knew how we could work with it.

So here I sit with my pain teaching me how to move forward; not too fast, not too slow. Pain is the governor of the pace. Pain is the teacher. Pain is my friend, to whom I listen each day. Pain is the portal to full and complete healing.

Kris Girrell is a retired psychologist and leadership coach who has turned to writing and speaking on emotional intelligence. His books, Learning To Feel and Typhoon Honey have won numerous acclaims and five star reviews. see more at innerworks-consulting.com.