4/9/2019 0 Comments chronic pain is like an abuserI have experienced both chronic pain and childhood abuse (verbal and emotional). When I think about the ways that my C-PTSD affects me, I find that there are a lot of similarities between living with chronic pain and living with an abuser. This observation is not originally mine, but from u/Ineedathrowaway34634 on r/chronic pain. Abusers tend to have a cycle in their behavior.
But here's the thing: pain is not necessarily 100% constantly at full power. Sometimes it's more like a dull background noise that sort of makes you feel like a faker. For some people, they might even have almost complete remission when they aren't in a flare. It makes you forget about the bad times, because it's hard for the human brain to conceptualize the feeling of pain when it isn't as strong anymore. We don't view our memories in the same light when we aren't in as much pain, and it makes it very easy to convince yourself that you're making a big deal out of nothing. Does that sound like gaslighting to you? Sounds a lot like gaslighting to me. "The abuse never happened. I don't know what you're talking about. It's always been like this, never any worse." However, when the remission is ending and a relapse is coming back, this is when the abuser strikes again. It starts out with little things. They try to isolate you from friends and other family (by sucking away your energy and making it hard to go out), they start pointing out tiny mistakes (like how pain can start to interfere with small tasks), and they create an aura of fear (the fear that more pain is coming and you have to be prepared for a flare at any moment). More than anything, the biggest parallel is that you can never please it and it doesn't show its true face to the world. Most abusers, especially those who perpetrate verbal and emotional abuse only, have a knack for throwing people off their trail. They're so friendly and kind and sociable to everyone, and they might treat the victim well in public too. The rest of the world would be very surprised to hear that the abuser has done anything wrong--as far as they could tell, it looked like a perfect family from the outside. Pain can be a lot like that. No one can observe it actively hurting you, and there's often no evidence left of the wounds it inflicted. And no matter what you do to it, it won't budge. You can do everything right for your abuser, and they will still be abusive. You can do everything right to treat your pain, and it'll still hurt. But the second you make the smallest mistake, everything goes haywire. Suddenly it's like you've never done anything right in your life. I feel like this metaphor is pretty solid. The same platitudes people with abusive families get ("but they're you're faaaaamily!", "you'll regret not having a relationship when they die," "they couldn't have been that bad!") are eerily similar to the meaningless suggestions people give to chronic pain patience ("you need to pray more," "yoga can cure anything," "it's all in your head, I think you're just dwelling on it too much," "my neighbor's aunt's cat's boyfriend's grandma had that and she still worked full time AND raised a family, treated it with essential oils, and she never complained!"). There's no room for compassion in these statements. There's no empathy to the victim. Both situations are so different from what other people not affected by it have experienced, they simply cannot fathom a world where this exists. More so, I think they can't fathom a world where it could happen to them just like it happens to us. I hate to have the experience to be able to draw these parallels. It's an unfortunate coincidence, and actually not too uncommon. There have been a handful of studies which looked at the long-term health outcomes of adults who experienced trauma in their childhood. They found that the more trauma (and longer the length of trauma) a child endures, the more likely they are to be diagnosed with a myriad of health problems later on. That's a post for another day, but it really just emphasizes how close these two issues are. I often feel trapped by my pain in the same way I felt trapped by my abusive mother. It feels hopeless, like there's nowhere to turn to get away from it. Of course, I did eventually get away from her control, but is there any hope in sight for the pain? I guess that remains to be seen.
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