Illness and Chronic Pain
“I have heard it said that illness is an attempt to escape the truth. I suspect it is actually an attempt to embody the whole truth, to remember all of ourselves. For illness is not something that happens to us, like a sudden sneeze or a passing storm; it is a part of who we are all the time.”
—Kat Duff, The Alchemy of Illness
When we become ill, we discover what it means to be a human “being” as opposed to a human “doing.” There can be extraordinary guilt when we realize all the things we assume about ourselves when we are healthy are no longer true. Whether it is a temporary set-back (when recovery is likely) or a chronic condition (which can only be managed, not cured) illness challenges us to see ourselves in a new light and to accept our humanness.
When we are sick or injured we suffer. Symptoms may range from pain, to disorientation to an inability to move or care for oneself, to loss of sleep and appetite. Our bodies betray us. Drugs, therapy, and care from medical professionals and loved ones can ease our suffering. But it is up to us to find a way to accept that pain and suffering are a part of being fully human. We cannot wish it away but we can learn ways to work with our suffering instead of fighting against it. Each of us will find our own path to healing. Healing comes from the same root as wholeness. Accepting that we whole even when we are ill or injured is a first step toward healing.
Personal Story
I was diagnosed with a chronic pain disorder when I was 35 years old. Though my symptoms can be traced back many years earlier, I had managed to, well, manage the pain for sometime. That was no longer possible. The diagnosis was a relief but what it meant for my future was uncertain.
Would I have to take medication? Yes, and some of it actually helped.
Would alternative therapies help? Some, but not all, and the journey to discover which was which is ongoing.
Would my family and friends look at me differently? Yes, and no. Those who love me still love me. Those for whom my doing was more important than my being struggled.
Could I continue to work full time? No. After a few years it became clear that I would have to cut way back. Luckily, I could job share. My work is still fulfilling. But a day does not go by when I don’t hear myself saying, “If I only were better – I could do so much more!”
Dealing with chronic illness and pain is a constant dance between perseverance and acceptance. If I give in to it fully, I might never get up and do what I am capable of doing. Yet when I push myself too hard, the price I pay is high.
Balance has become my mantra. That, and learning to truly live one day at a time. Take good days as gifts and let the bad ones roll off your back. Realize that most days bring a little of both. Live in the midst of the suffering can be hard – but it is still living. And life can be good and hard at the same time.
I find myself turning to the spiritual truth that even though our faith challenges us to do good things in the world, it also graces us with the belief that all people have inherent worth and dignity. I don’t have to earn God’s love, I just need to accept it. And I need to accept that illness does not make me any less whole.
A Prayer
Gracious One Whom We Call by Many Names, grant that we may accept ourselves as whole and human and accept others as well. We pray for healing, but ask for acceptance for how that healing may manifest. We ask for courage to face the hardship that illness brings, and we pray that we may have a sense of humor, too. May we not be a burden to our friends and family, but when we are, may we celebrate the joy of that comes when we allow others to care for us. And may we, in the midst of suffering, remember that we are stronger than we realize. Amen.
A Spiritual Practice
Find a moment each day to remember all that is whole within you. Try a breathing meditation. Sitting quietly, breathe in and out gently. As you do so, say to yourself, “I breathe in healing; I breathe out wholeness.” When you are done, take a moment to give thanks for all that is good in your life.
May you remember that you are not alone.
Barbara has a Master of Divinity degree (granted in 1985) and a Doctor of Ministry degree (granted in 2007) from Meadville/Lombard Theological School. She is a “homebred” UU whose father was also a UU minister.
Barbara has served in leadership positions on UUA and UUMA committees and was active within both the Pacific Northwest District and the Joseph Priestly District. She has led worship services at General Assembly, was the 25 year speaker at the annual gathering of UU ministers at General Assembly in 2010 and has spoken at many large gatherings of UUs across the country. She is considered an expert in UU worship and teaches worship and preaching skills to ministers, seminarians, and lay people.
Outside of the church, Barbara has volunteered in food banks and prisons, continues to participate actively in community theatre and musical groups and reads a lot of mystery novels. She is a loving sister and aunt and has many good friends. She and husband Jaco have been married since 1990 and have just retired to Bellingham, WA where they live in the Bellingham Co-Housing Community with their cat, Sophia Lion Paws.
- The Spirit of Creativity - April 1, 2017
- Both Whole and Healing - March 1, 2014
- What’s Broken is Brilliant - March 1, 2012
I really like your comment about being a human being, as opposed to being a human doing. Perhaps, that is the one lesson I can learn from chronic pain – that I am a human being always, even when I am not a human doing and that my true value comes from the human being part, not the human doing part of life.
Thanks, Barbara. so glad to have discovered this. I will watch for your thoughts. I, too, have chronic pain (MS nerve pain) and your courage inspires me.