Tag Archives: pain

Don’t Kill the Messenger!

31 May

At the conclusion of my workshop earlier this week one of the participants expressed concern about the utility of a particular tool I’d recommended. I gave everyone 10 different tools to begin putting into practice that would set them on a course toward navigating the barriers we so often trip over and give permission (not often consciously) to minimize our goal persistence.

The tip, BOYCOTT THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE, suggests that we would do well to become more open to experiencing what life hands us, to pay attention, to slow down, and to savor.

Open to ExperienceBoycotting the zombie apocalypse means we aren’t operating in the misconstrued land of “ignorance is bliss.” No. In fact, deciding to disengage from the automatic pilot mode that so many of us move through our days with, gives us hope for a new level of authenticity and importantly, choosing goals that actually resonate with who we are.

So my workshop attendee’s concern went something like this: “Kori, I’m getting stuck in the part where you talk about letting yourself experience emotion. Like pain. I’m worried that if I let myself feel it, I’ll just wallow in it.”

She related her perceived tendency to stay steeped in emotion, as so many of us do. But not because we’re consciously making a decision to invite it in and acknowledge it… when we get overwhelmed by pain, it is more a function of believing the thoughts that we’ve constructed about the meaning of our pain. And often the thoughts are distorted and untrue.

It is our nature to feel coherent and integrated. You know when you feel uncomfortable– like something is awry. Our bodies signal us through symptoms like an increased heart rate, lack of concentration or focus, or fidgeting. Our thoughts can clue us in to how we might be experiencing a situation as well, for example, “you’ll never finish this project”, or “he’s very angry with you right now.” These thoughts give rise to feelings that manifest in our physical bodies and can cause a host of behaviors. When we’re in zombie land, we move impulsively. We react. If we can slow down when we recognize these cues, we can respond in a more coherent, integrated manner.

It’s not our nature to tend toward wallowing and staying in the center of discomfort- we want to feel like we’re well oiled and calibrated. The body strives toward equilibrium as well. However, if, for instance, my workshop participant grew up in an environment where by staying emotionally engaged and emotionally intense she received attention and nurturing, perhaps her concern is valid. There were positive consequences for her to remain in the emotionally volatile place, despite its being uncomfortable and disintegrating.  Now, in her adult life, such behavior is likely not so effective. She gets to learn a new way of being with her emotion, and still “using it”, but in a different manner.

The pain is the messenger. When we try to push it away versus inviting it in and acknowledging it, we in essence, tell ourselves that we’re unimportant and that our bodies are misguided and we can’t trust them. I read this equation that is helpful to remember: Pain x Resistance = Suffering

Listen and LearnIf we resist the pain, we kill the messenger…and the message. And the messenger can be delivering some astoundingly revelatory and insightful information to us….if we’re willing to listen.

We don’t have to wish for pain or not-so-comfortable experiences. What I am implying is that through the adoption of a more open nature and a boycotting of the zombie apocalypse, you will experience a wealth of benefits including: greater emotional regulation and resilience in the face of difficult circumstances; higher thresholds for experiencing threats or stress; viewing all experiences as opportunities for growth and learning; fewer inclinations toward awareness distracting activities like television, video games, or compulsive behaviors such as binge eating; and the adoption of goals that are not only personally meaningful and relevant, but the ability to pursue them with persistence.

So don’t kill the messenger. The messenger is your friend. And as Carl Rogers once said, “All the facts are friendly” (1961).


Can you trust your struggle?

13 Feb

Lean Into DiscomfortI’ve been practicing more and more  “leaning in” to my anxiety.

Using what I notice my body is conveying to me– the racing mind, lack of focus, tense shoulders, heavy sighs, and fidgitiness — as a signal to tune in to the feeling as opposed to galvanizing my energy to run away from it, I find I’m not less comfortable like you might think would occur. In fact, when I realize that I am the same as my experience (I am the anxiety), there is nothing to run away from.

When I do this I think of the saying,  “Wherever you go, there you are.” We suffer most when we attempt to push away from us what we are experiencing, right?

If we are our experience though, we are one with it. If we absorb our experience, we relieve ourselves of rigidity. If we refrain from building a wall that we mistakenly think will protect us from it, we respond with greater flexibility. We are more resilient.

Like the reboundability and quick recovery that athletes practice — the  mental toughness that we all desire more of.

Trust Your Struggle

Like a willow tree that bends in the wind yet remains firmly planted in the ground.

Like the water you slide into when you immerse yourself into a warm bath.

If we learn to lean into our discomfort, won’t we suffer less? Grow more?

Can you trust your struggle?

P-A-I-N is a 4-Letter Word

27 Oct

Our Program Director wrote his first blog this week entitled Train with Pain. He describes his experience with exercising despite injuries, the value of modifying positions, and developing creative alternatives to facilitate continued work toward one’s desired goals. It’s an excellent article- you can reference it here—but it got me thinking along the lines of the psychological components of pain and how that pain often serves to derail our best efforts just like an injury in the gym might.

I’m no stranger to pain during my workouts. In fact, I relish it. My license plate frame is emblazoned with “Pain is weakness leaving the body,” an old quote that I adopted as my motto in high school when I wanted to be GI Jane. I still want to be Demi Moore in that movie. I think most of you who know me would argue that I am that tough, mind-of-steel, hard core woman, but my personal journey toward mental toughness and the power of the psyche to guide you through life has far surpassed what I  believe GI Jane ever endured or intentionally sought to practice. And I will forever be in a state of learning.

That stuck place where many find themselves, wondering what to do next, questioning how they are going to climb out of the holes they  feel buried in or perhaps feeling like there is no way out all,  stems in part from the mindset they’ve adopted. I give lectures often on this concept. Mindset is a word used in so many different ways. “I need to change my mindset” or “my mindset needs an overhaul” are common sentiments of those recognizing how their ways of interpreting their circumstances limit the accessibility of more novel ideas and new methods of behaving.

“My work is fast and furious now and I really like it that way, but I am not thinking about the eating bit the way I should.  I have been thrown into this new role of constantly having 5 or 6 things in progress or waiting on another project to come together.  I still prepare for my meals but the exercise is not something I am faithful about particularly since I spend the whole day with much on my mind and when I get home I am downright tired.  It’s like Murphy’s law – everything that can go wrong, does.  I have not been visiting the fitness place lately.  I don’t plan to give up this new life style, but it has become harder for me to stay focused.”

A great example of how mindset can cloud motivation and the determination put toward pursuing goals, this email from a client recently made me pause to consider just how much each of us can differ in how we make sense of our worlds.

For the most part, I would argue that we are more alike than different when we look at how we think instinctually. The majority of our actions are often geared toward a desire for acceptance, connection, and meaning. I see it all the time—random events being linked to something for the purpose of it being explainable. The unknown is hard to accept. We desire control over our worlds. So humans have developed in a manner that has us thinking in a more conceptual versus literal way. Take this simple example: when looked at literally, pain is nothing more than a 4-letter word. P.A.I.N. But when you see the word “pain” or you say the word “pain,”  you almost automatically conjure images of what you’ve interpreted as painful experiences. You may see a face, you may be taken back to a moment during your last leg workout, you may be reliving the moment when you had to put your pet to sleep, or perhaps something occurred more recently and  you’re back at home getting ready for work when you burned yourself while making breakfast. You get my point. In essence, this conceptual style of relating to something is based on a  mindset formed through processing of information.

A more literal interpretation of events is rare—even if we consciously try to access it, it can be difficult to separate ourselves from what we’ve already formed interpretations around. Ever tried to solve an old problem a new way? Generating solutions to common issues using a novel approach often proves to be quite difficult. Scientists have addressed this in studies of brainstorming, showing that the technique, despite being popular, is really quite ineffective for what its purpose is. In a group of individuals with a singular goal, everyone is being guided by everyone else’s thoughts, thus limiting the creativity of each individual. The likelihood that one person will keep what could turn out to  be a novel idea to himself because of the risk of ridicule or perceiving that it won’t be accepted is very real. We’re dealing then not only with sociological and relational issues at that point, but cognitive ones as well.

In other research, savants have provided us with telling demonstrations of the more literal cognitive style. Savants typically fall within the autism spectrum, but their skill in accessing the unfiltered information that each of us would benefit from, shows up usually in childhood or after trauma to the brain. Using the pain example above, a savant who is exercising might not necessary say during a particularly intense workout, “I can’t do another rep—this pain is unbearable!” Instead you might hear something like, “There’s a burning sensation in my bicep” or “My heart rate appears to  be elevating.” Obviously there are advantages to seeing or interpreting the world this way- such objectivity can net you a great ability to persevere through what others might deem too uncomfortable. On the flip side, of course, looking at situations in a purely literal sense may not bode well for other circumstances in daily life that require empathy in relationships or even reading comprehension.  Take the savant child who when asked to explain the ending of a book read in class recited word-for-word the final page but exhibited no concept of the meaning conferred in the words.

Pros and cons exist on either end of the continuum. What is the meaning of all this then? That we benefit from having a flexible mindset….a growth mindset. Carol Dweck, a researcher at Stanford University, wrote a book about this concept, in fact. She describes the fixed versus growth mindset and the barrier to adopting a “this is just the way I am” stance. Essentially, one who views achievement in a more effort-based manner than on innate skills and talents will thrive. She has demonstrated it in studies of children and their successes. The growth mindset in essence, embodies a desire to learn, to embrace opportunities for accessing new thoughts and ways of being to facilitate the achievement of a goal, and for training with pain–enduring the discomfort because it will eventually result in success.

One more example to exemplify how accessing a more literal frame of mind can enhance your life comes from a client navigating the choppy waters of a potential divorce. In therapy we often talk about process versus content. Process means the underlying meaning, for example, if your friend said to you “I’m really hurt by what you did the other day,” and you replied “I can’t believe you didn’t bring this up before,” a process focus would mean you are looking at HOW you are interacting with each other. In this example, you missed the boat. You just ignored that she was expressing to you a feeling. But your friend did a nice job of not blaming you. The how. The content is the WHAT of the interaction. She’s hurt. You’re confused. You can look at the conceptual versus literal  mindsets in much the same way.

Recently having gone through the death of his father, this man shut down a bit, became withdrawn, angry, and was lashing out at his wife in a manner she’d never been accustomed to from him. He struck out in hurt, criticizing his father and her. Some time had passed and he had reconciled his pain with having lost his dad, but now was dealing with the reactions of his wife regarding how he had behaved toward her at the time. He explained to me that he had recently had an epiphany of sorts, interpreting his experience in a new way and that he had wanted to share it with his wife. At a time when they were contemplating separation and actively engaged in significant relational strife, it took much courage for him to approach her with this. When he did, being desirous of a discussion about the content of his words, she brushed over the topic with surface-level attention, saying “everyone deserves some mercy now and then.”  For me, the impact of this was profound. She was explaining what he should have done for his father, and it was exactly what she was refusing to offer him.

Two things are demonstrated in this example:

  1.  My client had not considered this in her reaction to him. He said, “I’ve never thought about it that way.” (This is my whole point—we often see things in the same way every time  based on our mindsets)
  2.  With this new interpretation, they would be able to move in a new direction. She might be able to see that the more important aspect of this interaction was that it happened…that  he went to her with it.

Training with pain then, essentially involves us learning how to see things in a fresh way. Often that may mean taking as objective an approach as is possible, often getting feedback from others who can point out our biases, and by assessing the values that we infuse into our interpretations. For my client who described having difficulty staying focused, I offered her the following insights under the auspices that it might prompt her to think of her circumstances in a disentangled manner. Perhaps my response will help you too:

“I know the game of adjusting to a new role, new responsibilities, a new pace, and a new structure. A lot of my time is not MY time, if I’m not in appointments, my door is open and people can walk in at any time. I may be mid-thought writing an article for our magazine, or an email to a client, developing an exercise program, and WHAM!, I’m taken somewhere completely different. I also always have pending tasks–long term projects that always have aspects of them left undone and short term projects that can get done in two minutes. Wasn’t easy at first, but it got easier and feels just “normal” now. Tired — I know this well too. Tired is not synonymous, however, with being useless or unable to plan. Now we delve into the characteristics inherent in motivation and commitment– perseverance, determination, autonomy (someone not forcing you to do this but doing it because YOU recognize its importance), values (you have defined for yourself why it’s important), and competence (understanding that the more you practice, the better you get at it).
Please remember too that the thought you had that “it has become harder to stay focused,” is temporary. It is not that it’s harder permanently. Your circumstances currently are such that you are having to juggle your priorities differently. If you imagine your responsibilities like a pie chart (divided into sections according to their level of importance), even day to day the pie chart can take on a new look, the chunks expanding or minimizing.

Those who you would look at and call determined or driven, don’t necessarily want to be doing what they’re doing all the time. I certainly don’t. Do I get tempted by food? Yep. Do I eat every time I’m tempted? Nope. Do I take the time to think through what I’m going to have for dinner even when I get home at 8pm and feel exhausted? Yep. Do I want to? Nope. Why do I make the effort? Because the consequences of not doing these things are far worse than the short term discomfort required to get through them.

I am SOMEBODY! And yet I’m nobody….

14 Jun

Before you email, rush in to save me, and assume I must be experiencing a mid-30’s existential crisis (my birthday is in August and thankfully, I’ll only be 34), think first about your automatic need to reassure me, relieve me of the doubt it appears I’m feeling, and to halt the Kori Crazy-Talk.

What’s that about?!

At some point it seems most of us decided that we’re not supposed to feel helpless, lost, confused, even unimportant, miniscule, tiny. Meaningless….

“Okay, okay already!!”

Yet we do. We feel this stuff. We feel it a lot.

So many of us are walking around like zombies asking “Why?”

“Where is God if I feel so empty, so miserable?”

“What is there in this life for me?”

But what do you do when you notice this questioning, this longing?

You probably push, you scream, and then you hide.

You cover your face, you put on a mask, you go grab the alcohol, you go stuff your face with food you don’t taste, or you pop the pills “you saved for a rainy day…”


Before you get mad at me for being negative and pessimistic, consider how true my statements are and then realize that you just don’t want to hear the truth.

Pedaling this morning on the recumbent bike I noticed halfway through my workout a frenzied surge of energy. Punching the “mode” button a few times to navigate to the “speed”  indicator, sure enough it was registering almost 15 mph faster and at a higher resistance! I had just taken a look again at the photos I’d taken earlier. (As you know I’m preparing for a contest and as it gets closer I am in touch daily with my coach to ensure I’m on the right track). I saw the muscle striations. I saw the full, hard, roundness of my quads and shoulders. I looked crisp. And I got a surge of adrenaline as I imagined standing on the stage in my new suit next to the other competitors, out-posing them, flexing with precision, and hearing nothing but “WIN, WIN, WIN” in my head. I texted my coach- Let’s DO THIS!!

In the next instant I went through a wave of  sinister laughing bouncing from the edges of my skull to  hearing, “you do realize that you’re one in millions of people on the planet…a speck…a nobody…”

I was struck by the profundity of dichotomous emotion. From elated to vacuous, I came full circle and was abrasively reminded of life’s ebb and flow. How tumultuous the depth of emotion we can experience may feel, and yet how fleeting those emotions can be. And what gets an individual to the point which he can face his vulnerability, his raw, wounded,  incomprehensible, and unacceptable self?

“The sun will shine again, huh?” a client said definitively but with the quick upturned tone familiar when a question is asked. Over the phone I could see the tiny lines in the corners of her mouth as she smiled softly.We were discussing my experience this morning and how the circumstances of her life over the last month had registered similar notes.

And another who is wrestling with the grief he is traversing after his father died, said to me, “I’m not sure how long this process is supposed to last, but I know I need to be moving on with my life.” His statement demonstrating his misinformed belief that he could only do one or the other and that the grief needed to have a finite stopping point. I pointed out that he had been laughing a minute earlier and inquired of whether his choice to work with me wasn’t a good enough indicator of his effort toward “moving on.” His father’s death was obviously bringing up uncomfortable emotions, a sense of something missing, a “void” he called it, and as many deaths do, a sense of his own impermanence.

We’re like rivers really. Always flowing. We feel. We feel deeply. And we can acknowledge the importance of those feelings, or we can live like prisoners behind them, giving them the power to cage us and be the guides through the narrow channels of life that offer far less excruciatingly beautiful glimpses of transformative confidence and  daunting frigidity. But we must also realize that they are not all we are.

As somebody I make a difference, I have meaning, I am important, I am connected to the greater good.

As nobody I can recognize my insignificance and the futility which exists in trying so hard to be what I’m not, and in turn expect to reach the depths of both and honor their presence.

Even as I prepare to click “publish” to share this with the world I question 1. ) how my goal of winning a competition is worth getting excited over and more importantly, how superficial an example to  use to demonstrate the power of emotion; and 2.) how self-doubt could lead me to second-guess whether this blog is even worth sharing. Who am I to believe I can touch someone’s life merely by exposing my ineptitudes and the insights I’ve come about as a pilgrim of my personal journey? But then I recall the people I am drawn to most auspiciously– those who relish in life’s fragility, who are wise because they recognize and embrace their flaws, and who sprinkle their wisdom gained from truly living, in the most humble and yet personally rewarding of ways.

As I send this into cyberspace I breathe and hope that it will touch others.

And if it doesn’t, I remind myself that I’m still okay.

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