Physical Pain & Mental Wellness

There is an inextricable link between physical pain and compromised mental health. I am intimately familiar with this link, having had back, shoulder, wrist, and knee surgery just a few days ago. For me, pain is a harbinger of bad moods, frustration, and even anger.

I’ve had chronic pain since the mid-nineties when I first injured my back. While I had pain before then, the pain I experienced in my back was a wake-up call: this pain was beyond what I could ignore. I spent time in physical therapy and eventually had surgery. While the surgery was considered successful, I had done so much damage to my back that I was left with degenerative disc disease and osteoarthritis. (Read: chronic pain.)

Note: I am forever indebted to my surgeon, as the surgery returned me to the land of the living. I knew going in that surgery wasn’t going to be a magical fix; what surgery did for me was reduce the pain level to a “tolerable” level. But – and a big but – I had to learn how to manage chronic pain without meds. To this day, I rarely take painkillers (though I will admit that the measly two days’ worth of oxy for my recent knee surgery was basically just plain f’in cruel). I have learned tools that help me manage my pain, but the biggest thing I have learned is how important “mind over matter” is.

So, you ask, what has chronic pain taught me? In large part, pain has taught me how to manage my emotions. When I am in pain, I can be cranky and argumentative; most often, however, I feel really depressed. Last year, I fell down a flight of stairs in the middle of the night while visiting a friend, and while I was angry at myself for having done such a stupid thing, I was mostly depressed. I am a lifelong equestrian, and I was supposed to look at a possible new equine partner shortly after I took a header down the stairs. Having recently retired my horse, I was looking forward to meeting the new prospect. In short, I was bereft.

The depression I experienced resulted from both the physical pain I felt (physical pain wears on you) – and the emotional impact that pain had on me. So, you ask: how did I cope with the ongoing knee pain? (And how am I dealing with the post-surgical pain right now?)

Here is where I’m going to introduce you to a concept that has stood me in good stead for many a year since my back pain started back in law school: my toolbox. Your toolbox will look different than mine, but the basic concept is the same: everybody needs ways to cope with bad physical pain and its ensuing emotions (anger, frustration, sadness, desperation, depression, angst, anxiety, etc., etc.).

My toolbox includes my favorite movie – a silly movie, but one I know all the lines to and one that never fails to make me feel better. Lately, I have been sleeping on the couch with my knee propped up, and while under normal circumstances, I would never encourage falling asleep with the TV on, I have been going to sleep with my favorite movie on as a way to distract myself from the pain. (If you like 80s flicks, the movie is Jumpin’ Jack Flash.) I like to listen to music, exercise, spend time with/play with my dogs, ride/spend time with my horse, binge-watch Netflix, read, do arts & crafts, etc.. Some of those things are pretty darn difficult to do when in serious pain – for example, reading is probably the first thing that flies out my toolbox when I’m in pain. I just cannot concentrate when in physical pain. (It rightfully remains in my toolbox, however, as when the pain becomes more tolerable, there are few things I like better than losing myself in someone else’s world for a few hours.)

Music is a huge part of my toolbox. I have playlists for when I’m happy, sad, and everywhere in between. And although my favorite way to reduce stress – walking and listening to music – is not an option, I can still listen to music, which is called being flexible. Your toolbox will help you best the more flexible you can be.

So, I ask, what is in your basket of tools, and how flexible can you be?