Living in a state of chronic pain can easily lead to a state of permanent pessimism. There are times I wake up in the morning and confine the entirety of my identity to a pill. A pill that I have to take. A pill my body requires to perform its daily functions. A pill that confirms that I am indeed a human being.
However, this is not the truth or a beneficial perspective.
What if pain can actually transform us into a permanent state of newfound appreciation? Shifting the mindset to “it’s a pill that makes me appreciate every breath of enchanting air I breathe.”
For most of my life, I did not have to take medicine every morning and had no health ailments. However, following an unexpected health incident, I learned my thyroid was not functioning properly. After some difficulties finding the right medication, we figured out what I needed to feel better.
There are still rough days when I don’t feel my best. Some days start great, but I can feel the clock ticking, revealing new symptoms throughout the day.
I want to be forthright in expressing that my health problems are extremely manageable and would likely not constitute a technical definition of chronic pain. However, I still have insights that may help others. I hope people facing chronic pain can find comfort and unity among those facing similar struggles — not comparing pain levels, but finding a connection through pain.
I have chosen to write about my ailment because I want to comfort and reassure others that these conditions do not determine who you are as a person. You are more than whatever the pain you face makes you feel — whether it be mental pain, trauma, temporary illness or chronic pain.
I was also inspired to write about illness and pain, as it would give me satisfaction to know I play even just a small part in reducing the stigma that can invariably come with speaking of one’s health publicly.
A final reason I believe it is of utmost importance to write about pain and our control over it is the impact it has been reported to have on mental health, especially in younger people. In a study published by JAMA Pediatrics, there was a 12.2 percent prevalence of depression in youths living with chronic pain, nearly three times greater than the depression rate for youths in general. Therefore, I felt that sharing the refining aspects of illness may help play a role in preventing that percentage from increasing further.
I’d love to say this rate of depression needs to be lower and that it can be reduced. However, sometimes the intensity of one’s feelings under such morose conditions is too daunting a task to reconcile, let alone comprehend.
To prevent the seemingly interminable and depressing aspects of chronic pain from leaching onto our well-being, I want to share some ways that chronic pain has actually enhanced and enriched my life. Ways that I am learning to shift my pain into a force that refines without defining. A condition that motivates me to make my bed rather than leading to intense dread and inspires me instead of causing existential fires.
My pain has inspired me to look at art and literature in a completely different light. I find myself much more engaged and even enamored with the different kinds of art I view and read.
I feel the pain of any character facing an intense health crisis or who is mentally distraught. Amid my roughest days, every artistic or literary endeavor becomes a task for its own beautiful sake. I’m fully there because there is nowhere else I’d rather be.
More so than before my pain began, I find myself getting absolutely lost in the prose of the books I read. To the point where I won’t even know I’m turning the pages. It could be 50 pages or five and I won’t notice how much I have read until the book is closed.
Knowing that there is impending pain may be a very ominous thought. However, it can radically transform your daily activities and the systems you have in place to accomplish goals. For example, in recent times, my pain worsens toward the evening, so I’ve been motivated to get all of my schoolwork done in the morning and afternoon.
I save ample time for my own writing, reading or watching a good movie toward the end of the day. I have transformed into a morning person because of this chronic pain. If not for worrying about the onset of pain, I would likely procrastinate on my assignments or just stay up much later than necessary. The pain has not caused peril, but paved the way for getting up early amid the rising sun and chirping birds.
Pain has granted me the ability to cherish spending time with myself. Socializing and spending time with friends are important beyond words and in the past, I often felt that spending time with myself was painful. However, it is just as crucial to reflect during our youth and be comfortable thinking without the noise of others around us.
The pain has created a way to engage with this much more introverted, introspective part of myself and for that, I am grateful. The pain has allowed me to take a step back, without feeling the need to keep going and instead to focus on the beautiful act of being.
Chronic pain has also drastically altered the way I look at the little things in life. I’ve been able to appreciate the subtle beauties throughout the day, like a glistening sun or merely wearing my favorite t-shirt. Or not letting the negligible nuances affect me as much — like not degrading myself for getting a question wrong on a test or getting overly stressed after I misplace my wallet.
It seems to me that there are no little things, and the compounded effect of viewing these little things in a radically different light has had a profound effect on my experience of the human condition. Chronic pain allows me to slow down and pause following the occurrence of these little things and ask myself, “What would be the most flourishing way to react to this event?”
Facing flare-ups in my chronic pain has, surprisingly enough, blessed me with the ability to become more in tune with my own ambitions and spirit.
Thus, I believe a thank you is in order. Thank you for changing the way I go about completing an essay for school. The way I look at going to bed early. The way I know how to perceive. The way I go about spending time with myself. The way I think. The way I view art.
Thank you, pain, for changing my life.
Jacob Lieser is a sophomore majoring in philosophy, politics and law.
Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the staff editorial.