Pain and Soul

Pain can make life hell. As a pain patient, for years I did what almost everyone does: I sought medical help, fought the symptoms, gritted my teeth and carried on. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore, and in a way, I was lucky. I had no choice but to turn to myself in a variety of ways. In doing so, I began to discover how the pain in my body and mind was connected to previously unfelt pain in my soul. It was a liberating discovery. This connection and its consequences are naturally the focus of my professional interest.

I have found that Pain itself can reveal its purpose to us. It even does so willingly if we do not fight it internally, but follow it without resistance. This is unusual. Of course, when the pain is severe, modern medicine is necessary to enable us to live at all. But I am talking about an additional inner process that enables us to live with less pain in the long term. This process essentially consists of a radical change of perspective: my symptom is not just a disturbance that I have to fight and get rid of, but also an inner guide acting on behalf of my soul. So it’s not just resistance, but surrender; not fighting, but following. How is this possible?

I have to be clear about two things. The first is that my emotional concerns and my pain symptoms are in balance. Perhaps I have not been able to feel the emotional pain, which is why the physical pain is all the more pronounced. I balance the two within myself, day and night. It takes a lot of strength. The more tense the balance, the stronger the reactions I will experience. My body can develop permanent and varied symptoms, my life can fall apart or become stuck in a narrow framework.

The second thing is that the soul has many ways of presenting my concerns to me. The goal is always my own vitality, completeness and wholeness. It wants me to have full access to life, for my life to be whole. It uses physical pain as a substitute for its pain, which I cannot feel (perhaps not yet). There is also a systemic dynamic at work here, often spanning several generations. So my illness does not mean that there is something wrong with me or that I am weak. It is a performance of my body, which it unconsciously performs on behalf of the soul.

The ray of hope: it doesn’t have to stay this way. The balance of pain can relax and become less problematic if I look at and acknowledge the emotional issue behind it. Almost always, behind a protective veil of anger, grief, shame, fear and paralysis, there are unconscious loyalties and a deep, blind love. Hidden treasures waiting to be seen. When this happens, the soul relaxes. It absorbs what has been missing and grows. It no longer needs physical pain as a substitute when its needs are met. Seeing what is is enough.