Blogging in a Pain Medicated State of Mind

August 8, 2009

As I write this I’m physically in pain from the elective surgery I had a few days ago. The stitches across my back and under my belly are aching. My shoulders are throbbing from all the pain shots. The liposuction locations on my legs are bruised and my feet so swollen D has taken to affectionately calling me Princess Fiona (the ogre princess of Shrek fame). The worst pain far and above all the rest comes from my stomach muscles that were tightened together during surgery. Every deep breath, cough, giggle or cry sends another wallop of pain across my gut, and all these broken bits and pieces of me have been stuffed inside a none-too-attractive knee to shoulder body suit complete with incision drainage cups and other delightful medical wonders that assist in minimizing the pain, swelling, and bruising while I’m on the mend.

I’m not telling you this to elicit around round of “Aw, poor Anita” comments or even to worm a few more prayers out of you, though I’ll take them gratefully if you’re dispensing them. The reason I’m writing about it is because in the middle of it all I can’t help but think how fortunate I am and how good I have it. The pain I’m experiencing right now was expected pain. In choosing elective surgery I choose to go through this period of pain and this period of pain is only temporary. Next week at this time D won’t have to shadow my every step to keep me standing if I should begin to fall. I’ll be able to walk up the steps without groaning each time I lift a foot. I’ll be able to rise from the chair without it being a grand dramatic production. Every cough won’t cause me to gulp back the tears. Whenever I go through a time of temporary pain like this, I can’t help but think of those who live with chronic pain. Every night when they go to bed they do so with the understanding that the next morning they will awaken to pain, sometimes more, sometimes less, but always there. There are so many physical illnesses and diseases that include chronic pain; back pain, migraines, lupus, rheumatoid arthritis, cancer treatments, and on and on. Passing moments of pain in my own life remind me of those who live with chronic pain and I don’t know how they do it and I’m so amazed again and again by their courage, strength, and determination in learning with cope with what is so they can enjoy the best quality of life possible. And while I still have a propensity to whine over every little ache and pain and boo-boo that comes my way, remembering others who live through their physical suffering at least keeps my whining to a tolerable level for those anywhere within the sound of my voice.

I would imagine you’ve all had that same awareness; that experiencing physical pain deepens our awareness and empathy for others who are living with pain in far greater intensity and with much longer duration. Our momentary discomfort is a door and if not a door a tiny peekhole into knowing what life might be like in someone else’s world where living with pain is a constant reality. That’s the silver lining behind every cloud of suffering that comes our way because every time we suffer we connect to the pain of others and our hearts open to them. If you’ve gone through a long illness then you are better able to understand the difficulties someone suffering from illness or disease is enduring.  If you’ve walked through a brief season of depression in your life then you can immediately feel for those who live with depression. If you’ve had your heart broken even once in your life then chances are you will always be moved with tender compassion for the brokenhearted.

Over in our SisterFriends Community Forum new members often speak about the incredible support and encouragement they found there. In one way or another, to a greater or lesser degree, we have all been where each other is and in that connection of similar life experience our hearts are open to one another in a way that comes easier than if we hadn’t walked a similar path. I love being queer for this reason among so many others. I take incredible joy in knowing that God is able to turn all the pain I’ve experienced through rejection and judgment, condemnation and ridicule into pathways that open my heart to someone else and give me wisdom and understanding that I might never have found through any easier, less personal way. I’m not saying God caused the pain to occur and I never will. I’m saying that when I allow it to be so, God can take the most painful moments of my life and turn them into something that can be life-giving to another and in giving hope, support, and encouragement to another one of God’s creation, I find myself at a deeper place of healing within me to any of the ravages and remnants of pain that have held on so tightly.

All humans suffer. None are immune. No matter how good a persons life looks from the outside, there’s a world of hurt inside that skin. GLBTQ Christians share a particular brand of suffering known by others who have been rejected by the church, by their family, by their friends. We know the pain of being stereotyped and marginalized. We know the frustration of being misunderstood and unheard. We know all this and ultimately it becomes our decision whether these encounters with pain and suffering will be the thing that tears us apart, causing us to live our lives as victims or if  it will be the grist for what empowers us to become agents of healing and peace in the lives of others. What we do with the pain that has come to us is where our power lies and with God’s help the blessing of that pain can be far greater than it’s suffering.

Suffering and joy teach us, if we allow them, how to make the leap of empathy, which transports us into the soul and heart of another person. ln those transparent moments we know other people’s joys and sorrows, and we care about their concerns as if they were our own.  – Fritz Williams

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Posted in Christian Living and Faith, Devotionals, SisterFriends