If I were to recount some of the delightful things I've heard from my - now former - care providers, the following few would make it to the top of my list:
"Your ribs are gonna be the pain of my existence."
~ a Kinesiologist
"All of your movement patterns are completely dysfunctional"
~ a Physiotherapist
"I have 5,000 people in my practice, and maybe only 20 of them have connective tissue issues as bad as yours."
~ a Physiotherapist
Unless we are language - vigilant, the words we hear and the stories we are told about our health, our abilities, or our bodies eventually become our own language, our own inner commentary, and our own stories. Left unchecked, these stories come to be written in our body language and wired into our nervous system.
The vicious cycle feeds itself: fear holds us back from trying new things and doubt manifests as tension; moving with fear and tension conjures pain; pain leads to more fear, more doubt, and solidifies our belief that we are, indeed, broken and fragile.
Today's post picks up where we left off two weeks ago - healthy linguistics.
But if the previous post focused on the words we hear from our care providers, today's edition is more about how we talk to ourselves.
The medical community is only just starting to accept that chronic pain is a complex problem that requires a similarly complex and often interdisciplinary solution. Of course those of us living with persistent pain already know this.
We know that physical pain spills into our emotional lives and our relationships, jangles our memory, saps our energy, and drains our finances. We already know that we must somehow navigate this complex terrain. Too bad it often feels like we are navigating it blinded and in the dark.
As I said before, there are no pain ed mentors that can help us to streamline our efforts; no pain ed coaches that can point us to practical tools and simple changes which lead to profound improvements and big gains.
Like how we talk to ourselves, for example.
I know, this idea can feel SO far fetched.
That's how it seemed to me, too, when I just started with Explain Pain training.
I mean, if the needling and massage and physio don't help, what possibly could a simple change of words do? This post is kinda getting longish now - so I will save the more detailed explanation for the next post. For now just try this on - see how it feels!
What if we unblock our language?
Do you say?
Bad knee
My shoulder is stuffed
Bone on bone
Wear and tear
Say instead:
Less awesome knee (insert a body part)
Motion is lotion
Movement is medicine
Wear and repair
If you are feeling really adventurous, try these on:
My hurts do not equal harm,
I'm sore but I am safe.
And the most challenging:
Pain is the defender, not offender.
I know this last one is a total mind bender - and as such deserves its own post. Sometime soon!
