Stories we tell

Chronic illness and pain have a rough and rugged quality like so many of the backcountry places I’ve been. Sometimes that’s because I’m physically worn down by pain, just like I was physically exhausted at the end of a long day of backpacking. But other times my experience of illness is like a rugged adventure, an exciting discovery of new terrain – an exploration of someplace I’ve never seen or been before. Living with chronic illness or pain takes tenacity and perseverance; paradoxically, it can demand the patience and endurance of a world-class athlete.

At the same time there’s a choiceless quality about living with chronic illness – it’s something beyond our control. How we deal with it, however, is where we have a choice. It’s a choice we make each day, every hour, in each minute and moment. We can decide: “This is hell. I can’t take it any more.” That’s certainly something I’ve said and thought more times than I can count. Or, we might choose instead to have an attitude that says: “I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, may no one ever suffer like this.” That’s a great thought of compassion: “May no one ever suffer this illness and this pain.” That way of thinking – which is a kind of prayer or aspiration – enables us to see beyond our own pain and develop genuine empathy and compassion. Paradoxically, it helps us to deal with our own suffering because we start to care more about other people. Instead of focusing on ourselves we are able to wish the best for other people, even complete strangers whom we’ll never meet.

When, however, we tell a story about our illness that says, “this is a hell,” then the experience becomes more intense and unbearable. When we stick to that storyline our world becomes very claustrophobic. There’s not a lot of room or space to work with what’s happening. It’s like being in a frozen world where everything is stuck and there’s no movement or possibility except this on-going experience that we’ve labeled “hell.” The story we tell becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. If we have a tendency to perceive and label illness and pain in a strongly negative way then that will be our reality. Our experience will become more powerfully negative and more difficult to work with and live with. However, when we’re aware of the stories we tell they don’t have the power to lead us down deeply rutted tracks that leave us lost and stuck. It’s up to us how we deal with chronic illness, pain, or any type of suffering. We can shut down and withdraw or we can take the opportunity to open our heart to our own experience and to the people and world around us.

A recent tweet on DailyZen quoted the Austrian philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, who apparently once said (or wrote), “Don’t think, look!” That playful tweet is a pithy three-word philosophy for how to live life in a genuine and openhearted way. Without even knowing it, we limit ourselves all the time through our use of language and the stories we construct. When, however, we don’t tell a story about our illness or pain, or any aspect of our life, we have a chance to look directly and nakedly at our experience with an open mind – we have a chance to look with a fresh eye without our preconceived ideas. We can never step outside of language completely, but we can look at our stories, beliefs, values and preconceived ideas with an open questioning mind. By doing that we have the opportunity to touch our experience more deeply without so many layers of language and words leading us around like a bull with a ring in its nose. When we let go of our storyline we can instead just be with what’s happening – we can look and see what’s actually there. Who knows, we might discover something completely new.