By
Nancy Hall, MA, NCC, LPC
In
an effort to take the “manic” out of “Monday,” this weekly post explores
techniques, issues, latest research, and other thoughts on meditation. Nancy
facilitates a weekly meditation group at The Awakening Center. For more
information, contact her at 773.929.6262, extension 17 or nancyhalltac@gmail.com
While on a family road trip, I
developed a nasty cough. My husband started the trip with a bad cold and he
worried that he had passed it along to me.
“Are
you getting my cold?” he asked.
“Nope.
it’s allergies.” I insisted
The
next day:
“Are
you sure you’re not getting sick.”
“Positive.
Allergies.”
As
you’ve probably guessed, I was getting sick. In fact, when we got home, I was
diagnosed with bronchitis. But when the coughing started, I did not want to
admit that I was sick. I convinced myself that somehow I could will the
sickness away. That almost never works.
I’m
not sure if anything would have turned out differently if I had acknowledged
that I was getting sick. Would I have rested more or consumed more fluids?
Maybe. Did I make myself sicker by not doing these things? Hard to say. But I
certainly did myself no good by denying the reality of the situation.
We
create this sort of secondary suffering with emotional pain as well. Someone
hurts our feelings; we deny, resist, or minimize our sadness or anger; the pain
only intensifies.
Everyone
experiences pain—physical or mental pain. If you stub your toe, you experience
physical pain; if someone says something unkind, you experience mental pain. These
are examples of primary suffering. We can get caught up in pushing away or
avoiding the pain. Maybe we blame ourselves or others. This makes the pain
worse, which is secondary suffering.
What
would happen if we accepted the primary pain when it occurs? What if we didn’t get
stuck in avoidance or obsession but instead mindfully accepted the pain that is
present for what it is?
When
we engage our tools of distraction to control or avoid pain, we increase our
suffering because a habit or unhelpful coping mechanism becomes entrenched. We
might then have a third level of suffering to contend with—judgments, shame, or
anger about how we’re coping. Turning away from pain offers temporary
relief—but the return of the pain in some form or fashion is inevitable.
But
what value is there in leaning into pain and suffering? Why should we subject
ourselves to that? Because no matter how long we distract, avoid, or detach,
the pain and suffering that is part of human existence will remain.
Confronting
and tolerating pain builds hope.
To
do this, you have to let go of the controls. Take your hands off the steering
wheel and let the pain be.
I
could not get adequate treatment for my bronchitis until I stopped resisting
and trying to control it. It was only then that I could get relief in the form
of medicine, rest, and—most importantly—lots and lots of sympathy. And
popsicles.
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