It Could Always be Worse, but it's Alright to Feel Bad

Hi there and thanks for coming back!  I hope the sun is shining in your world today!

I recently learned who Brené Brown is and am enthralled with her work.  Some of you might know her from TED talks.  (http://www.brenebrown.com/videos)  I also saw her on Oprah's Super Soul Sunday show, discussing her newest book, and delving further into the results of her 12 years of research on taboo topics of vulnerability and shame. (http://www.oprah.com/own-super-soul-sunday/Full-Episode-Oprah-and-Brene-Brown-on-Daring-Greatly-Video)
(http://www.oprah.com/own-super-soul-sunday/Full-Episode-Oprah-and-Brene-Brown-Part-2-Video) There is so much I could write about in regards to Brené talks about, but today, one aspect is really sticking out in my mind.  It's something we all do, and we know we do it, but Brené has given it a name.  It's what she calls, "Comparative Suffering."  It's when we rank how our suffering compares to others. 

Today, I woke up with an annoying headache.  A simple, little, frustrating headache.  I get ones like this from time to time as a result of a knot in my back that I'm convinced will never go away, TMJ issues, and having braces move everything around in my mouth and extending down to my neck.  Like I said, annoying.  A few good jarring twists of my head and a loud crack usually take care of it.  Usually, but not all the time.  My chiropractor is a miracle worker and will always get the pesky little tight spots that I can't get.  (Heck, one time I went in to see him and everything was so tight that when he cracked my neck, that the very tippy top of my head adjusted!  It was the most amazing, relieving feeling ever!  But I digress.)  I've aspirined, I've watered, I've stretched, yoga-ed, rubbed, and it just isn't going away easily.  A visit to the beloved chiropractor is not in the cards today, so here I am purposely just letting the day go by as I sit on my couch and feel crappy.  I'm choosing to let it get me.  And about 2 weeks ago, I lost a day of my weekend due to a migraine (from the same tightness that I have today, but it was just centering from a slightly different spot).  As that crossed my mind today, and as my dog started barking at nothing, I lost it for a second.  I got snappy at the dog, and got a bit teary-eyed, simply because I don't feel good.  I thought to myself how stupid it was to get that way from a mere headache.  And the comparisons started.

I started thinking about family members, friends, people I've seen on the news who are truly suffering from what I deem legitimate problems.  Things from MS, to arthritis, to paralysis, ... cancer.  Those people have reason to not feel good, to spend a day on the couch, to get emotional about what they are dealing with.  I don't, and I have no idea what it's like to be in their shoes. 

I thought of my brother who battled cancer for a year when he was a teenager, then again for 5 years as an adult (17 years after the first bout).  He went through chemo, radiation, numerous surgeries and hospital stays.  And I remember what it meant to me to have him at my college graduation, less than a week after he had a major operation where he had been literally split open on the table.  I'm sure he wanted to just stay home and lay low, but he didn't.  He put himself right in the middle of a gathering of about 5,000 people, to be there for me.  (And what made it all that more impressive was my dad did not attend because he just had rotator cuff surgery, and was worried about getting bumped.)  I can't imagine how vulnerable he felt, how crappy he felt, and how much he physically hurt.  But that whole day, he never complained. 

I thought about a friend of mine who passed away a few months ago after a long battle with pulmonary disease.  He was the definition of inspiration.  He battled his disease for years, and never once complained.  He got up each day, embraced his life and went to work teaching students, and went home to be a devoted husband and father.  He lived his life in full all while waiting for a transplant, receiving and recovering from one, being hooked up to oxygen, and then again, being told he needed another transplant.  Even when things were looking grim, and he started to look a bit rough, he smiled, he got up, he lived.  He was nothing but grateful, and he didn't complain. 

Heck, my dog has hip dysplasia, and there are times he has trouble getting up.  But does that stop him from playing, or jumping on the bed to sleep with us?  Nope. 

And I'm crabby and complaining about an annoying headache.  There's my reality check.   

Then I remembered a lesson I'd been taught about compartitive suffering a few years ago actually, before I actually knew what I was doing had a name.  At that time, I was getting a lot of stress induced migraines and they were totally impacting my life.  I don't get the lines or light sensitivity, but I get tired, highly sensitive to smell, my stomach constantly spins and I ALWAYS throw up a few times (overshare, I know).  My doctor sent me to a physical therapist.  During one session while I was waiting for him to come into the room, I took a look around at the other people there.  I saw a woman who looked to be in her 80s, and she was stuggling to move around with her walker.  Instantly I felt so much empathy for her, and I felt ashamed that I was in there for a drastic headache.  When my PT came into the room, he asked how I was doing.  "Eh, ok, I feel bad though being here taking up time for a headache when I see someone like her out there who can't walk," I said.  He looked me right in the eye and said, "But this is impacting your life, isn't it?" 

I went from feeling ashamed to feeling like I had been taught one of the greatest lessons in life.  It was indeed impacting my life.  I missed work, and I missed events.  Just like that woman in the other room's life was impacted by her aliment, but with different circumstances.  What he said helped me accept that I needed help to deal with the dang migraines, and when I accepted that, it wasn't so much of a mental-weight anymore. 

Which brings us back to the present.  When I heard Brené discuss how we compare, and thus hide our own suffering because we believe it isn't as bad as someone else's, it was like she was speaking about me (I'm sure many of you would feel the same way).  Her point was that we all suffer from something - illness, disease, injury, divorce, job loss, financial issues, loss of a loved one, mental illness, ... the list goes on and on - but we need to stop ranking who has it worse, and acknowledge what is happening within ourselves.  Once we acknowledge and accept that, we can then deal with it, and to do that, we have to talk about it.  For me, talking about it takes away it's power.  I bet if I had talked to that woman in the physical therapist's office, I bet we would have found a lot of common ground in how we were feeling.  And I think it's that commonality we need to look for more than which one has it worse.  Our individual circumstances for pain, embarrassment, and suffering will always be different, but it's the underlying factors - how we feel about those things, how we see ourselves as a result of those things - that connect us all.  And haven't you felt better, felt less ashamed or embarrassed when you knew you weren't the only one feeling a certain way?  Misery loves company, but so does healing, and feeling validated. 

So as for me and this pesky headache?  Yeah, it's putting a little black cloud over my day, but it's alright because everyone has a little black cloud of something.  It's giving me pause to remember that this too shall pass, I'm not going to let it take any more of my mental energy, and that I am grateful for this day. 

Remember that you never suffer alone. There is always someone who shares your feelings, and is willing to listen to you, and help you through it. You just have to let yourself be vulnerable enough to reach out. (A bit of a teaser for Brené's talks.) I encourage you all to take a look at Brené's TED talks and Oprah appearances. She's inspiring, validating, I think each and every person can learn something from her.

Thank you to my brother, my friend, my dog, my physical therapist, and Brené positively impacting my life, and giving me a good dose of humility, reality, and perspective.

And thank you for reading!  Until next time...