For as long as I can remember, I’ve been in pain of one kind or another.

I broke my wrist at 6.

I started getting headaches when I was 8 or 9.

I injured my back while sledding when I was 11 or 12.

I sprained my wrists and ankles a lot in 6th & 7th grades.

I developed TMJ (temporomandibular joint disorder) when I was 16.

Then came the migraines.

There was appendicitis and a hemorrhaged ovarian cyst in 2006.

There were a couple of small car accidents which hurt my back in 2007 & 2008.

Then there was a job which had me in almost constant tension while sitting at a desk all day. That brought so much back, shoulder, and neck pain.

And then 2016 came along and I twisted my ankle and my knee when I stepped in a hole and fell down a hill.

In February of this year, I slipped on some ice in the chicken pen and fell and landed on my back.

Right when my knee was just finally starting to feel better.

Am I the only one this happens to?

I can’t be the only one. But it sure feels like it sometimes.

All of this, though, has forced a relationship with pain upon me.

I’d rather not have a relationship with pain. Believe me. But at least a decade ago, I decided to look at it a bit differently.

Before that, I was just really not a fan of pain. I wanted it to go away forever. I pushed back so hard against pain in any form. I just didn’t want to have to deal with it any more.

Honestly, who does?

But I happened across this amazing book, Fearfully and Wonderfully Made by Paul Brand and Phillip Yancey. It has forever changed my perspective on pain.

Pain is a beautiful thing, really. It means my nerves and things are working like they should. Or maybe they’re not working like they should and some nerves are misfiring. Either way, pain is letting me know that something’s not right.

It isn’t something that I should be fighting against. Rather, I should be working with it. I should be taking time to stop and ask myself and my body some questions.

Why am I in pain? Is it something I’m doing? Is something in my environment causing it? What’s going on? Is it stress or emotions that are behind the pain? Do I need to stop what I’m doing? Take a nap? Slow my pace? Stretch my back?

It’s not an overnight thing

This change in me and my perspective on pain hasn’t happened overnight. But it has happened.

And, you know, it’s led to greater self-care. Not the shallow self-care that some people talk about. Bubble baths and chocolate and “I deserve this”.

It’s the self-care that says this headache is not going to go away if I stay here at my desk and keep working in these conditions. That it’s time to get myself home, grab the ice pack out of the freezer, and go lie down in my dark bedroom with something over my eyes.

It’s the self-care that says I can work in the garden, but I HAVE to stop when I feel the first twinge in my lower back. Then I have to get myself into a seriously hot tub and soak or I’m going to be in incredible pain.

It’s the self-care that says a massage and a chiropractor visit every month are worth the cost.

It’s the self-care that says my mental health and well-being are worth the cost of therapy.

It’s the self-care that says that boundaries need to be set with certain people because of the unhealth they bring to my life and the pain that can inflict.

Pain doesn’t seem so bad now

It really doesn’t seem so bad. I see it now as a friend.

You might see that as super-weird. But I’m okay with that.

Pain is one of the ways that my body talks to me and lets me know how it is doing. This is the only body that I’ve got until they perfect cyborg technology. But I’m still torn on all that and that’s totally a topic for another day.

If I’m going to have the best life that I can have, I have to live with my pain. That doesn’t mean that I’m going to wallow in it or that I’m all masochistic or anything. I’m not going to beg someone to hurt me or cause me pain.

Rather, I know how to relate to pain now. I’m learning how to interpret its signals to me.

And it’s not scary any more.