The Difficulty Of Being Loved

FACT: When we are loved, it’s not always easy to accept it and take in the full meaning of it.

The difficulty of it lies in trusting the realness of receiving something immeasurable without any expectation of having to give a single thing in return. It’s especially difficult when we have lived lives where we survived abuses and/or significant traumas where love and tenderness were withheld to increase suffering. How can a person trust a reality where things are given without a price or obligation attached, when one’s whole existence screams that it isn’t possible to have that, to be worthy of that, or deserving of another human being who regards your being with tenderness and care?

I’m a witness to this struggle now. I’m seeing this unfold in the life of one of my friends and the mental health toll is enormous. My friend’s partner is in the midst of a major health battle and seems incapable of accepting, or acknowledging, how deeply they are loved and cared for by so many people. This person could be told every hour on the hour that they are loved and they still might never believe it. The exhaustive effort invested in repeated attempts to show love in tangible ways with the gifting of things, through deliberate actions, physical emotional comforts, and just being there are all dismissed as insufficient or outright meaningless; which makes the giver, in return, feel unloved.

Being on the receiving end of this dismissal may be a deeper pain than never being loved. Watching someone I love live through something like this makes me feel helpless. There isn’t enough I can do or say to make this situation better. I can be supportive. I can tell my friend kind words or make suggestions about how to cope. However, I know my actions and words only salve the pain during the moments when we interact. When those moments end, my friend is the one who returns to living this difficult reality. A reality that – if I’m reading things correctly – is not going to end well, no matter how much I hope for an alternate result.

As this situation unfolds, it’s getting harder for me to understand why people make living the lives we have so much harder than they must be. Why do we treat each other so harshly? And why, when we are most in need of it, do we reject the kindness and love of those closest to us?

 

Bonnie Raitt – I Can’t Make You Love Me

 

Sleep: The Unconscious Way to Cope With Pain

Have you ever had such intense pain, physical, or other, that all you could do to cope with it is sleep?

I’ve slept for the better part of the last 2 days. I had to attend a family event on Sunday afternoon. When I say “had to” I don’t mean forced to, I mean I would have felt horrible – worse than the pain I’ve had since – if I hadn’t attended because it was in honour of one of my favourite aunts who does whatever she can for everyone. However, between the drive to the home of my uncle who hosted, moving around to interact with all the family members and family friends; and then the drive home, my body had to go into near shutdown so I could cope with the resulting pain flare up.

By the time I arrived home around 11:00 PM on Sunday night, I knew I was in for a rough few days; not to mention my experience dictates that it takes at the very least two days for me to recover after going out to do anything. Upon arriving at my uncle’s house in the afternoon, my pain level was already climbing; and on the drive home, the soreness in my legs had already become unbearably intense. When my feet touched the ground as I got out of the car, it was definite that I would not escape the punishment for daring to enjoy life just a little bit while celebrating the life of someone I love. After shutting the door to my home behind me, I made a beeline for my bedroom to change into cozy pajamas then I went into the bathroom to perform the nightly rituals of brushing my teeth and putting my hair up so I don’t wake up with an equally painful tangled mess of hair to deal with.

I was in bed by midnight. It took some time to fall asleep because I was so uncomfortable with the pain building throughout my body. I vaguely remember waking a few times during the night, but I know I was too exhausted to awaken fully to take my overnight breakthrough dose of pain medications. I even slept late and missed taking my first large dose of pain medications on time at 6:00 AM. However, being late this one morning didn’t matter much because being asleep kept me unaware of the pain. The rest of Monday was spent in a groggy haze of pain medications and sleep, but I didn’t miss much because it poured rain most of the day and the grey sky outside was not at all appealing.

I woke up around 4:00 PM because my phone rang. It was my therapist calling me. I called him on Saturday shortly after coming out of my panic attack so he was responding to my message. I knew he wasn’t in the office during the weekend, but I felt that I had to talk to him as soon as it was possible to sort through why the panic attack might have happened. As usual, he helped me sort through the still lingering feelings and to realize how everything I’m coping with – including the current pain flare up – and all that I’ve lived through in my life are so deeply connected, it makes a panic attack a reasonable thing for me – or anyone dealing with so much – to experience. He also gave me some practical tips on how to cope if I have another episode: splash my face with cold water, put cold water/a wet cloth on the back of my neck, breathe into a paper bag, lay on the floor so I feel grounded, and connect visually with objects around me so I can know what’s real. I was grateful for that conversation and the clarity it brought.

I stayed awake for a few hours after that conversation. My friend R called for one of our weekly chats. Then I tried to make sense of the horrible news of the day and deciding what my stomach could tolerate so I could make a meal. I failed at both and fell back to sleep on my couch. I managed to wake up a few hours later to take my last large dose of pain medications and I might have stayed awake for about an hour or two. The next thing I became aware of was that for a second morning in a row my body opted to sleep as late as it could handle before waking to take my morning dose of pain and other medications. After doing that, I still had the need for two morning naps.

I also realize, sometimes I have to accept that it’s not always conscious methods that are best for coping with my pain.

 

The Beatles – Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight/The End