I’m struggling with excessive physical pain. My response to pain of any kind is an amplification of internal voices. It’s usually not easy to identify what these voices are really carrying on about. They start out by carrying on in my head about the world’s woes and/or the failings in my life either in the past, present, or future. At times, there is an editor. At times, there’s not. What is the power of these thoughts? Am I hurting someone with my thoughts? Not if I don’t speak them out loud. Still, I find myself apologizing for just a mean thought. Honestly?!
Sometimes, I wonder what the hell is going on in there. I hear a voice say, “I try to worry about everything at least once a day.” Are you kidding me? Don’t I have better things to do than worry about everything? It drives me crazy. How do I manage these relentless voices?
When I was a kid living at my grandparents’ house, we always had the current Readers’ Digest on the back of the toilet. We all required reading while sitting. I remember reading Laughter is the Best Medicine and Quotable Quotes. One of the quotes that stuck with me forever was: “Worrying means you have to pay the toll twice.” It stuck with me because I have always been a worrier. I think maybe they call it anxiety now but I’m not sure. Managing my worrying has been a lifetime project. I have come up with a few coping mechanisms.
- “Let it go!” Please, Joceile, just let it go. There’s nothing you can do about it now. Figure out how to do it better in the future and move on.
- If I can’t let it go, tell the person involved what’s on my mind and be done with it. “You know when you did that yesterday (or last month, or last year)? It made me feel ———. What was going on for you? Please do it differently in the future.”
- If all else fails, try a healthy distraction. (See below.)
I participated in a group called Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT). It’s a six month course. I took it four times in three years. I found it helpful. In it, I learned another word for this state of mind is rumination. It is an unhelpful way to direct my mind. It looks like this:
- If only, I’d said (or done or felt)——— right at that moment.
- What’s going to happen now that ———?
- What will I do if ———?
At this point in my life, it’s pretty clear that:
- I always could have done it better, smarter, or wittier.
- I can’t possibly predict what is going to happen in the future. I can make an educated guess. But that does not provide any certainty. And,
- Yes, we are all going to die. It’s just a question of how and when. So, there’s no point in spending a lot of time there either.
Another thing I have learned to do with all this angst is just write. In fact, I have been doing this since I was a child. But now, I know there is a purpose to it and can consciously use it. Other people, draw, paint, watch TV or sports, dance, walk the dog, knit, play games, meditate, work on a house project, or whatever. I’m aware it is a tool to adapt to the uncomfortable awareness of how little control I have over what happens in my life and the world. I do the best I can. What else is there that a person of good conscience can do?
I avoid exposing myself to very upsetting media caused by either real reporting or created by someone with a very warped sense of what is useful. I do what I can about what’s important to me—giving time, attention, money, resources, etc.—and continue to live the best, meaning highest quality life I can.
At times, managing includes asking for a hug, checking out my perceptions with someone else, and judicious use of medication. The most important piece for me seems to be paying attention to not only what I am doing but also what I am failing to do. Still, I try to avoid getting wrapped around the axle about whatever it is because my life energy is a limited resource.
I recently noticed a new voice in my head asking questions about how I’m doing without judgement. “Are you in pain?” “Are you hungry?” I call this voice the Health Inquirer. Apparently, this supportive health driver is assisting via the Socratic method—asking questions and listening as an avenue for learning. I have much to learn.
Once in awhile, I write a song and sing it to myself. Occasionally, I share it with someone when the mood strikes and I think it might be useful. At work, I have sung “My Job is Really Not so Bad”:
"My job is really not so bad.
I haven’t got another.
Though, I might quite my job some day
And be poor like my mother.
It’s not so much the people here.
It’s not their childish tricks.
I mostly hate the infant rules
And not the stupid hicks.
So, if you hear me bitch one day
And I seem rather glum.
Slap my back and smile at me...
And remind me of my mum."
Singing is a time honored way to make ourselves feel better. Singing has been used forever by humans to express feelings or share our history. I can have that voice in my mind sing a song. In fact, all the voices can make a chorus. With multiple voices singing the same tune, I’m thinking I can feel better about the whole damn thing. What have I got to lose other than crossing the same bridge over and over before I actually get there?
“Keep your head up, Joceile,” says the major leaguer in my head. “It’s like baseball. It ain’t over ‘til it’s over.”
L’Chaim.
Joceile
4.21.19
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