Finding your Power through Chronic Illness, & Pain
“When life brings you to your knees, you’re in the perfect position to pray.”
This is for the warrior hearts who may be more fragile in physical form, but whose spirits are robust. Sometimes despite the pain, sometimes because of it. For anyone dealing with an ongoing, chronic illness, but determined for it not to define the quality of their life.
For a long time, I kept my encounters with illness private, concealed even from those closest to me. I clung tightly to the belief that illness is ugly, disturbing to those who lack understanding.
Why subject myself to vulnerability by exposing my weaknesses?
Rare are those who possess genuine empathy without having experienced incessant, harrowing pain themselves, and lacking a frame of reference often leads to shallow judgement, uneducated criticism, or worse - pity. In ancient tribes, chronic displays of illness would have spelled outcast status. Being the weakest link in the pack could mean abandonment and certain death.
But after more honest introspection, I see that contrary to what my primal brain may fear, the persistent physical pain that has plagued my formative years has not rendered me weak.
It has made me resilient.
With each instance of being consumed by unrelenting flames, I have emerged from the ashes with newfound strength and reverence for the experience of existence.
This is the gift of pain.
We burn, and we rise. We burn, and we rise. And we shed the skins of our former selves.
These instances of enforced solitude push me inwards, into deep reflection. They force me to confront everything that may divert my attention from what truly matters in life - frivolous concerns, fleeting desires, vapid distractions, and tune my attention finely into the present moment. And within presence, the vitality of my spirit, which pervades all physical sensation, becomes accessible.
I have come to understand that finding clarity and equanimity of mind can make even the most excruciating pain tolerable, or at least increase my threshold, allowing me to walk through each fire without falling prey to the darkness.
These kinds of hardships can beat us down and turn us sour at the 'unfairness' of the world, or simply desperate to heal. It can make us look to the sky, beg God for mercy, for an answer to what we did to deserve this punishment, and what we can do to repent.
There is a very real sense of grief that occurs when comprehending the loss of significantly large portions of your life to illness, and experiencing violent levels of pain on repeat, pain that makes you feel like a prisoner in the torture chamber of your own body, can leave with quite prominent PTSD responses in the long term.
These aspects of the disease are rarely discussed and are extremely difficult to voice because of the confusing and overwhelming emotions it stirs within, and the isolation we often experience due to our physical limitations does not help. Our experience can feel so dissonant to those around us that we are left at a loss for how to describe it to elicit even a little more understanding, and the mental strength that is required to process these emotions and let go of the trauma that can haunt us, takes an incredible balance of vulnerability, persistence and grace.
Having said that, I do not consider it an ‘unfair’ challenge to face in life.
To me, it would be more terrible to go through life without these opportunities to be carved by circumstance into a warrior of the heart and develop this deep gratitude for simply being alive.
These opportunities to surrender, and dissolve so completely into something far vaster and more divine than what is comprehendible from the limited perception of our minds, are invaluable.
To let go of the illusion of control and rejoice in the profound perfection of life unfolding in all its mystery.
I acknowledge how genuinely hard it is to endure immense pain, especially when it is constant. Pain is pain. That is why the only way I have survived without accumulating resentment has been through letting go, at least of negatively-charged, self-loathing or self-pitying thought patterns that would contribute to mental suffering on top of the pain.
The physical is enough.
In complete let go and surrender to the silent force that governs all life, I have found a beautiful, soft, and transcendental sense of peace. The kind that is not reliant on anything external.
I have been given this gift to drop back, all the way back to source, and bathe there. And I have discovered that unconditional love threads through everything; the beauty and the pain.
In the Holy Gospel, Jesus put great emphasis on the notion that God “pursues the sick.”
“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. ”
I have found this to be true within my experience of sickness. I have both longed for and been forced to surrender to something far vaster than myself through long periods of stillness, silence and desperation.
Pursuing physical triumph, acclaim, and material possessions often leads us down paths of disillusionment and temporary gratification. We become entranced by the endless cycle of pleasure seeking, consumed by ‘the world of ten thousand things’ as Lao Zu dubbed it, and lose sight of the abundant fulfilment that resides within, which exists freely, unreliant on external measures.
“For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what shall a man give in return for his soul?”
I truly believe that we, as people living with disabilities, diseases or chronic illnesses, are blessed to be forced into states of dormancy, of deep rest, of enduring overwhelming, despair-inducing pain, where we simply cannot chase anything at all but grace. Because somewhere beneath it all, lies a source of eternal love that will hold us steady as we walk through the fire if we allow it to shine forth.
We have been given the gift of knowing what is hardship and what is not. Our tolerance increases, and we spend less energy entertaining dysfunctional thought patterns — If we refuse to let the mind take hold of our story and become a victim of it.
The consideration has crossed my mind on a number of nights when I have drifted into sleep (mainly before diagnosis, when the illness was officially labelled a ‘mystery’) — in such shrill pain it wakes me consistently — that my body may be shutting down. The question, is this what death feels like? Is this my time? creeps into my mind.
Facing the reality of mortality, and sending silent gratitude to everyone you have known and loved in this life, saying goodbye, is transformative.
When your eyes pour with the inexplicable pain, your lungs wail in the dead silence of the night, your chest compresses under the weight of despair and isolation of the moment, and your heart breaks and aches under the pressure, you are cracked open, and you enter dimensions of existence that were previously inaccessible, both dark as hell and light as the heavens.
You cling to silver linings, to the light, to the angel that peeks its head out of the darkness, then crumble under stark reality that perhaps there is no reason, no order, no divine intelligence orchestrating the chaos, and open yourself more radically in order to accept that possibility.
You zoom out, how many people are suffering in the world in this moment alone, whether it’s by the hand of chronic illness, fatal illness, war, hunger, poverty, grief, the list goes on.
Maybe we are all made to be tested.
Maybe we are only treading ta delicate tightrope that elevates the world from total chaos.
Maybe I should stop asking why.
Maybe at some point, I will land on the truth.
Maybe I have already landed there, but have conveniently forgotten the simplicity of it, because in it there is peace. In it there is rest. In it there is trust. And I’m afraid to trust in something so elusive because I have been beaten down so many times.
But have I really beat beaten down?
Zoom out again.
Our capacity to comprehend the grander scheme is so minute, so limited, so constrained by our tendency to fixate on the trials of our current situation.
It’s always in retrospect that we see the superior doors that opened because the one we begged at the doorstep of did not. It is only in retrospect that we see the opportunities that arose when our desperate pleas for a specific path to unfold went unanswered. And it is only in retrospect that we realize the true value of the hardships we have endured, as they reveal the hidden gems within us, shining bright amidst the ashes and ruins of our former selves.
The first of the Buddha’s four noble truth’s (Dukkha) is;
“Life is suffering.”
Suffering, as referred to in this instance, has many causes, including sickness, loss, the impermanence of pleasure, and the resulting desire for more, which is deeply imbedded into our biology (Explained through the lens of evolutionary psychology in the book Why Buddhism is True), but does not need to rule us and can be transcended. Which is the third noble truth (Nirodha); There is an end to suffering.
“The Buddha answered the questions posited in his time by giving the Four Noble Truths, which satisfactorily and eternally answer man’s demand of why. These Truths can be summarized as follows: the Buddha taught that misery and suffering were of man’s own making, and that the focussing of human desire upon the undesirable, the ephemeral and the material, was the cause of all despair, all hatred and competition...”
- Alice Bailey in The Reappearance of the Christ, p.106 (1948)
Through adversity, we become survivors, no longer drifting through life flippantly, obsessing over minor details that have no real merit to the bigger picture.
We become determined to LIVE every moment. To live well, full, and free.
Presence. Aliveness. Health. Vitality. Mental clarity. Physical strength. Energy following its natural course through the body — It all gets acknowledged for the miracle that it is.
Even for those in perfect health, this life is a miracle. Every cell, organ and neuron in our bodies functioning in balance and harmony, every breath, even the oxygen in the air, all working in unison to keep our bodies and our brains striving towards optimal capacity.
Our systems are so complex, so fragile. One simple imbalance can lead to disease. We are not invincible. But it often takes some kind of adversity for us to truly understand just how precious our time here is. And how little control we really have over anything.
But lack of control does not mean we should give up on the pursuit of love in all forms.
For me, the acknowledgment of my lack of control has only steered me towards relinquishing all cravings and desires that do not align with the path of my heart. I have learned to let go of anything that feels lifeless and instead, channel my energy towards endeavours that bring fulfilment and contribute to creating a kinder and more conscious world - utilizing whatever means I possess to manifest this vision.
At some point, on our journey of maturing and evolving, we get struck by the truth that the way of nature is ruthless. It is not just or fair. And we as humans are only organisms within the epic mechanism that is the natural world. We are not favoured because we have taken on the human form.
And that is ok.
There is exquisite beauty in surrendering to the ruthlessness of reality. Acknowledging it for what it is, instead of dreaming it is something we can manipulate to meet our desires. Surrendering to he epic force of power that may not favour our ego's, but is absolutely carrying us, in arms that favour love over all else.
“Grief can be the garden of compassion. If you keep your heart open through everything, your pain can become your greatest ally in your life’s search for love and wisdom.”
And through this dance of love and pain, what I have learned is this;
We mustn't be victims of our pain, nor attempt to ignore its existence.
We mustn’t us it as an excuse, or to gain pity.
We must be gentle, soft and kind on ourselves and our body, and love it even when it is weak, but never become weak in mind and spirit.
We must acknowledge how brutally hard it is sometimes, and how much the constant pain can stimulate high amounts of stress in our bodies, but not add to the stress by painting negative stories of despair over top of it all.
We must allow ourselves to feel the despair, feel it fully, then let it go.
Always, always let it go.
For we must also embrace every moment of health and feeling of vitality. And celebrate our body for all it can do, while forgiving it for what it might momentarily or permanently not.
It's a fine line we walk. A fine line we walk.
