The Problem of Pain

My shoulder hurts. It has been hurting for over a year and, after trying to ignore it and my limited mobility, I finally decided to go to a physical therapist to address the problem. It started back when Hazel was still sleeping in our bed and still nursing through the night- I would intentionally put myself in a position to give her access to me all night. And as a result, I strained my shoulder beyond its own ability to repair the damage.

I’m currently working on all the things that are painful; in my soul, in my mind, and in my body. At the risk of sounding a little melodramatic, the problem of pain is part of every day life, right now.

Here’s what I know about pain:

Something needs to change. If I were to continue to sleep in the position that originally caused this injury to my shoulder, none of these exercises and stretches and little electric shocks would have any affect. I would be wasting my time and the time of the therapist if I continued the behavior that started the pain (I wish I had been cleaning when it happened).
Let me clarify something: in contrast to what caused my shoulder pain, the molestation I experienced that was the root cause of my soul pain, was not a behavior I had any control over. But there are other hurts I am working through, and I do need to set certain boundaries for that source to stop causing trauma to my heart.

Pain is productive. One thing I tell all mamas-to-be, as we discuss birth, is to keep in mind that the pain of their labor will be a productive pain. It completely changes their response to the pain when they change their mindset about the pain. I’ve been repeating that mantra to myself as I finish my counseling and physical therapy sessions.
I mindfully and soulfully feel out this ache and I envision what needs to happen, what I need to work on. Pain shows us what needs to change. And I’m convinced that God uses pain as powerfully as He uses love to carve out our souls and make us new. Like that therapist’s hand, roaming, pressing, pulling, questions asking and body exploring to find the source, work it back into its proper place, and allow room for healing.
When I first realized that what I’ve been experiencing my whole life is depersonalization disorder, I knew I didn’t want to ask God to take it away. In fact, I asked our friends to not pray that it just goes away- I asked them to pray for Father to infuse me with bravery because I know going through the pain is the fastest route to healing.

Pain clarifies. My wise and strong friend recently said that pain is like window cleaner that helps you see yourself more clearly and that has also been floating around in my soul, comforting me as I feel the wound go deeper, new places calling out their own tenderness. I’ve said before that my writing flows more freely when my soul is in turmoil and now I’m sure it’s because the grime over my heart and the fog around my mind is wiped away through the process of hurt.

God will never waste your pain. The hope and beauty of all this suffering, this struggle, is the knowing that as long as I am not fighting against God and against this journey, none of this will be wasted. It’s a promise I have and a thing I can hold God to- that He will complete this work in me. The crying out, the tedious sorting through of my symptoms, it’s not pointless. And that is the only thing that could keep me going. One day, if I tell my story enough times in enough safe places, not only will it be just a story, but it will be used to help other people.

So, I’ll push on and I will continue to allow pain to clean out the sediment from the bottom of my soul. Today, I feel strong enough.

“When pain is to be born, a little courage helps more than much knowledge, a little human sympathy more than much courage, and the least tincture of the love of God more than all.” 
― C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain