It is Good to Name our Pain
Talking or writing about our pain - our woundedness - can be a very difficult thing to do. Our experiences of physical, emotional, and/or spiritual difficulties bring with them a weird tension as being the only thing on our minds, yet at the same time, when we go to speak our pain, the words just don’t seem to ring true or carry the weight that we have been carrying inside of ourselves for weeks, months, and even years. There is a weird world of contradictions that exists when speaking on and even experiencing our pain and woundedness, but it seems good that we at least try so that we can be placed on the trajectory towards healing instead of continually spiralling inward, shutting out more and more of the world around us and letting what hurts us most become everything. I think that it is important to address the contradictions of woundedness because if they remain unspoken, I fear that many will lose hope or continue to live without any sense of meaning in the midst of a very broken world. To be clear, the observations I make within this article are simply that: observations; yet, I think it is important to point them out because, when we experience our own woundedness or the woundedness of others, we are really faced with a choice of how to love well.
I am not a medical doctor, so I really have no room to speak in depth on physical illness. I am not a psychologist or therapist, so it would be foolish to address our woundedness from this perspective. Fortunately, as a priest, I have been invited to participate intimately in others' suffering when offering the sacraments or when those struggling simply need someone to share their burden. While my own experiences may be limited, I hope to offer some observations as to how the contradictions of woundedness can help us address the spiritual wound of sin and, hopefully, help us to continue to find meaning in love, even in the midst of great suffering.
It seems like these contradictions can manifest in three areas: the culture of woundedness, the personal experience of our wounds, and finally, the spiritual reality of our sin.
By the culture of woundedness, I simply mean how we talk about our pain - which, as I mentioned, can be incredibly difficult to do. There exists a weird paradox where a person who speaks on pain must be “credentialed” by either first speaking on their own physical, emotional, or spiritual struggles before they are to be believed or addressing their capacity to speak on such a delicate topic (you can see my attempt at this in paragraph 2). I think we see the need to be “credentialed” most clearly in celebrity culture when someone famous admits to an alcohol or drug addiction, struggles with depression or anxiety, or even making public a long hidden question of sexual identity. When someone (especially someone famous) names their pain, it seems like there is greater acceptance that whatever this person says is somehow now universally applicable to anyone else going through a similar situation. It is as if, until that pain is named, that someone doesn’t have a right to speak on certain topics. At the same time, our therapeutic culture makes known time and time again that “everyone’s pain is valid” because it is not so much what the wound is; rather, it is more important to accept how that person is experiencing their pain. This contradiction may either lead us to either dismiss thoughts that may contradict our subjective experience of pain or compare our own woundedness with others, somehow thinking that either “I’ve gone through worse” or “I guess my experiences don’t count because I haven’t gone through something quite as terrible.” Both extremes seem unhelpful.
Our own personal experiences of woundedness can add another level of complexity as the contradictions become more elaborate and can reinforce lies about ourselves or those around us. In particular, when experiencing physical or emotional wounds, the contradictions in communications are many. If we have experienced some sort of physical trauma, the marks on our bodies or the need for assistance in mobility can communicate for us not only the physical discomfort, but also the interior struggle we may be going through as we recover from whatever brought us to this point in life. If there is some sort of internal physical pain or if someone is experiencing an emotional or spiritual struggle, it can be more difficult to communicate our wounds. The patience or kindness someone may offer to someone using a wheelchair or walker may be entirely contradicted to another person finding it just as difficult to get out of bed, go to the store, or even respond to a phone call.
In wounds that manifest themselves outwardly or inwardly, we also see the contradiction of not only how to communicate, but also how much to communicate. When we feel pain, even the smallest bit, it can consume our world. Every encounter we have, every task we have to complete, everything that we do can find a way to return to what ails us. Soon we either find ourselves exclusively talking to others about our struggles or we convince ourselves that no one will understand or that no one wants to be burdened by our pain so we keep it deep within our hearts. Because the wounds we carry with us can heighten our sensitivity towards certain behaviors or words, we can quickly shut down or aggressively react when someone says or does something that focuses the attention on the places we find are most vulnerable. Again, both extremes seem unhelpful.
In our physical wounds and our emotional wounds, we see contradictions abound and it can be hard to navigate through such ambiguity. Lies can creep into our minds that do nothing but isolate us in our pain. We can believe that we are the only one experiencing a certain kind of burden. We look around and it seems like everyone is smiling except for us and begin to wonder, “what is wrong with me?” Our world closes in and we can begin to tell ourselves even more vicious lies -
No one understands what I’m going through
I’m too much for others to handle
If they really loved me, they would understand what I’m going through
If they really loved me, they would take time to listen
If they really loved me, they would see my pain
I guess it doesn’t really matter if I’m in their lives or not
We can spiral out of control. Our thoughts can form an echo chamber, getting louder and louder, pushing us deeper and deeper into unreality. We can lash out at others for not understanding our pain, simply assuming that others can read our thoughts or hints that we desperately need help.
How can we break free from the lies?
How can we find relief from the voices that do nothing but pour salt on open wounds?
While it is not a complete answer, I think that one proactive step we can take is naming our pain.
If we are experiencing some kind of physical symptom, we can feel incredibly confused and isolated about what is happening to our bodies. We can see that something isn’t right, that what was familiar is now feeling so foreign. When a medical professional speaks with us and is able to identify the malady, it can bring some sense of comfort as we know that others go through or have gone through something similar. A psychologist or therapist can likewise offer consolation to the suffering if an accurate diagnosis can be made, giving a name to what felt so indescribable and all-consuming. Once we have a name for something that has been troubling us physically or emotionally, it can, in a way, deflate the formerly unknown assailant as we are no longer living in fear of the darkness, and can once more live in what is real.
In the same way, we can begin the process of healing from our spiritual wounds as we learn to name what ails us. In this instance, the main spiritual wound I speak of here is sin. We need to talk about sin because I think that there can be a dangerous mentality that can delude into thinking that wounds are only things that others have done to us or that have happened to us by accident.
Wounds can also be self-inflicted.
Sin - especially mortal sin - is a prime example of this self-inflicted wound as it requires our free consent to become realized. When we speak of spiritual woundedness there can be a false assumption that we have no responsibility for what ails us. We can come to believe that any suffering we endure or pain we receive is simply being imposed on us through no fault of our own, all the while we continue living in habits akin to shooting ourselves in the foot and wondering why it is so difficult to move in a direction of integrity and wholeness.
Unfortunately, I think there are many people who simply see sin as some kind of a tally board that God keeps and uses when deciding if we should be admitted to heaven or not. Properly understood though, sin is a loss of love - it is a breakdown in a relationship between ourselves and God and our neighbor. In sin we are choosing against what is reasonable and true - we enter into a false world where we develop a disordered affection for things that would normally be good, but we have warped to the point of making them or ourselves gods. In other words, when we sin, it isn’t a tally mark against us; it is truly a choice against love. In the process of choosing against charity, we are willfully wounding our hearts in a way that demands healing.
Because so many have a poor understanding of the reality of sin and what happens when we choose against love, it makes it harder to find the necessary healing. If in the midst of gossiping, getting drunk, or lusting after someone we could consciously say, “God, in this moment I am choosing not to love you who has given me everything… I am choosing not to love the people you have put in my life… I am choosing not to love myself,” it may be easier to avoid temptation. Sadly, though, we can veil sin under overly pious or polite language in a vain attempt to diminish the reality of what we have freely chosen to do.
We need to confront our spiritual wounds and to do this we must boldly name them. We have to be willing to say, “this is my wound… this is my sin… this is my choice against love.” If we don’t directly name it and confront the reality of what is causing us so much pain, we have little hope of recovery.
In the same way that we can experience healing from physical or emotional wounds, our spiritual wounds can find healing as well. We can experience the relief from the burden of carrying around the reality of broken relationships with God, neighbor and ourselves, but we must speak. We have to name our pain so that that Divine Physician can do his work and make what was once broken apart by so many choices against love whole again.