Pain and Relativity
Please don’t misunderstand my last post: my best friend is the strongest, bravest, most courageous, most amazing woman I know. I mean, I wish I could explain it all and tell you why and wax on about her, but her story is not mine to tell. I’ll just say she certainly has not had a perfect life, although I think she’d say it was very blessed in many ways.
As I was saying in a comment to Lauren yesterday, pain is relative. In general, the greatest pain you’ve felt is equal to the greatest pain your neighbor has ever felt. In the retrospect of our own lives, we lose this realization. We think back to the time in grade school when we broke our fingernail, and we compare it to the time we broke our back, and we think the broken fingernail didn’t hurt as much.
But really… they both were equal in that they were the greatest pain we’d ever felt.
When looking around, our tendency is to pick and choose, to say Hah! You think that’s bad? Let me tell you about…
To make matters worse, pain fades in the memory of it. We imagine the time we had crippling, excruciating pain, but no amount of imagination can provide that feeling. In our memory, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did.
On the other hand, everyone has a breaking point. I mean, broken spirit and everything. (I’m not saying it can’t be healed.) And I think some people have felt that and some haven’t, but even that doesn’t matter, because people think the worst they’ve had it is pretty close to the worst it can get.
In other words, before we’ve felt that snap, we think we’ve been there and survived… but we haven’t.
Just like, we’ve either been to the point of begging for our life or we haven’t. We’ve either had our spirit broken or we haven’t. We try to relate, or sometimes we just can’t imagine it but we think we can. We imagine that we would never beg for our life. But in the end… we’ve either been there or we haven’t.
And we’ve either been to the point of uttering our last prayer with the certainty we were about to die, or we haven’t. There’s no begging then, it’s true.
It sounds like I’ve talked myself out of the argument I meant to make.
I guess in the end, I don’t know.
But I do know this: we can choose to judge or we can choose to respect and understand and be compassionate. Yes, it’s human to blame the victim (like The Secret implies), even when we don’t realize we’re doing it. It’s comforting, because it suggests we have an element of control over things we sometimes don’t have control over.
We do have control over our mind, mostly. But have we all been to the point where we’re hanging on to that last thread of control as the only thread left?
Well, I guess every day, for everyone, is like that, in a way.
So I’m back to I don’t know.
What think you?
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Natasha Fondren is a writer traveling the U.S. in a camper with her four cats. She is currently enjoying the lizards and desert heat in Arizona.
A broken spirit is difficult to describe. At best, I can describe it as – giving up. Quitting. Losing the ability to believe. Resignation.
Some just call it depression and suggest medication. But the problem is, if the spirit is broken then medication is only going to treat the symptom, not the actual problem.
I think it is impossible to understand a “kind” of pain one has not felt oneself. But I think you are so correct when you say, “But I do know this: we can choose to judge or we can choose to respect and understand and be compassionate.”
Too often we think we have the “quick fix” for someone else’s pain (especially if it is mental or emotional). And just as often we seem to get angry with those who suffer when they don’t respond to our “healing”. Your idea of compassion seems to be the best solution.
Oh yes, this is true. Good point, Bevie. We do seem to have a too-invested interest in trying to fix other people, LOL!
“Yes, it’s human to blame the victim (like The Secret implies).”
Sometimes I think that it’s not so much “human,” but “easier” to blame the victim. Some people can’t or won’t take the time to feel compassion. Or maybe they don’t have the capacity – it’s not in their “nature.” Yesterday my sister-in-law, who is a teacher, commented about some of the other teachers in her school. She said that some will “stalk” kids in order to look for trouble, usually following kids deemed a “problem.” Yet, these teachers won’t take the time to consider the family life of these kids. They label the kid with complete disregard. (The realization of the self fulfilling prophecy.)
Shoot, am I rambling? My point is that if people would just take a few moments to understand human condition, then maybe they’d stop being quick to judge.
Really? Oh man, that’s annoying! Sheesh. No, you’re not rambling, that’s a great point.
I hear you about judging. I’m so sick of judging. It’s everywhere. Oh heck, listen to me. I’m judging those who judge!
I think writers especially need to experience pain or grief. I remember when I was going through a depressing time, and I was thinking of taking something to make me feel better. Then I thought, no, I’m supposed to feel this way. (It wasn’t that I had a chemical inbalance; in which case I probably would have seen a doctor.)
I don’t know any answers, either. I’ve read that people who go through horrible things are usually just as happy after awhile as they were before. I think one of the studies included people who had become paralyzed. Maybe we have a set point for happiness. This year I’m working on changing my set point to appreciate what I have and what I am. I’ll let you know at the end of the year if it works.
Did I go off track here? LOL
LOL, Edie, I have no problem with false happiness. You should see me pop St. John’s Wort when he leaves. But yeah.
And you’re right about the set point; there’ve been studies that we all sort of have one. It’s comforting, you know? That even if today is horrible, we’ll get back to our set point, soon enough.
I couldn’t agree more. I talk to people in pain every day, and to each person, their pain is the most important thing in their world, and thus outshines all else. It doesn’t have to be logical to the observer. The key to empathy is realizing that.
My mom can’t get over the fact that kids can get depressed. She says, “What do they have to be depressed about?”
That’s such a great point. It’s true! I know yesterday, me missing Glenn was the most important thing in the world and I didn’t care about anything else, LOL!
Man, seriously? I think people have short and revised memories. And they think the joy an adult playing with kids feels, is how kids feel all the time.
I’ve had various broken bones and torn body things. They hurt, often a lot. But they were nothing compared to some of the mental pains I’ve had. Those left the scars inside.
Ouch, Charles! That sure is the truth. Physical pain fades. I mean, it may stick around, but when it’s done, it’s done. The inner wounds never seem to heal.
This is kind of why I hate when people say, “I know how you feel.” Because I can’t know exactly how anyone feels. But, yeah, it’s all relative.
I hear you, Jill! That’s so true. And even if someone went through exactly the same thing, it’s not the same, because our sensitive buttons are different, you know?
Can’t add much to this. I wish people would stop trying to blame other people’s illnesses on something they did –ate too much, smoked, didn’t exercise, didn’t take enough vitamins. As if we’ll live forever as long as we do the right things.
Pain is weird. I don’t think we can truly imagine pain. We can only experience but when we aren’t experiencing it we can remember, abstractly, that it was distressing but we can’t realy duplicate any of the senation n our memory. But maybe that’s just me.
*cringing* I have this faint memory of a discussion I had with my husband about his two-hamburgers a day habit, LOL…
No, that couldn’t have been me.
Exactly! Exactly! About the memory. It’s an abstract memory. That’s it! Like, with sorrow, you can remember it and you’ll cry again… but with physical pain, you remember it but it won’t make you cry again.
Hmmm, I’m not really sure how to respond to this. But, I know I’m NOT going to write my story – I could never write as eloquently as you
So, I’ll say this – I agree with you. My life has not always been easy, but I’ve been incredibly blessed. I try not to worry about the fact that I’ve been so blessed, and how that may or may not impact my soul’s future life. And I completely agree that some times, some people just have hard lives, no matter what they do. And horrifyingly, some people have terrifying lives, and that breaks my heart. My only consolation is that my main goal in life is to each day make the world a little bit better place – and to teach Brie to do the same. (Man, how many times have you heard me say this, sorry, lol). But it helps me to deal with all of the horrifying things that happen to know that at least I’m trying to make things a little bit better in the limited way that I can. Enough about me 
You have had a life-altering year. You have made changes, you have been in control of what you can be in control of, you have been responsible for improving your life. I personally think that you are doing what you need to do in order to have an “easier” life. I hope that you will achieve your 2010 goal. I admire and respect all that you do.
I would recommend one thing – more caramel lattes – caramel lattes make everything seem better – ah damn! you can’t have dairy! – ah well, yet another challenge for you … (I hope that pathetic attempt for a joke actually worked and made you smile
I love you!)
I’m sorry, LOL… I didn’t mean to make such a big deal out of talking about you, LOL. It’s just I phrased it wrong yesterday, and had to fix it, and then…
Well, anyway! No, I don’t get sick of hearing you say that. I think everyone should say that more. I’m not convinced, as a whole, we’re making things better for the next generation, and I feel it’s our duty.
I hope so! And I’ve been holding your wish for me from the Resolution post in my heart! Your lips to God’s ear.
I want some of that Butter Toffee stuff you used to talk about!