Send me back, the feeling's reached the core.
Ocean waves sound more like whispers from the shore.
See my eyes look back again once before.
See my eyes look back again once before.
-Tame Impala, “When The Feeling’s In The Core”
When I was thirteen, I sliced my foot open on a treadmill. It was definitely not my proudest moment. The one thing I remember (other than going to the hospital) was the moment right before the pain set in. I didn’t feel anything. I looked down and saw a horrible gash in my foot, blood everywhere, but I didn’t feel a thing. Don’t get me wrong, it eventually hit me like a ton of bricks - it was my first real experience with shock. It would not be my last.
This memory got me thinking about other intense moments in my life. They all share one thing in common - my immediate reaction was numbness. Silence. Nothing. Zilch. This is my mind’s way of protecting me and dealing with the situation, I know, and more often than not the pain comes and it is processed. But what happens when it’s not? What happens when something is so painful it goes straight to the core and gets stuck there? That’s what I want to talk about today.
Pain of this nature we usually call trauma and prescribe a strict regiment of therapy and antidepressants to revive the pain and heal it. I have my thoughts on both of those, but for the most part they are definitely workable solutions. Therapy works wonders for many people, and antidepressants are a literal life-saver for those in dire straits. The problem is, sometimes neither of those work. What then? Ten more years of therapy and higher doses of antidepressants? I’ve certainly seen many people take that road - I can’t say I’ve seen it work out all too well. Is there anything else we can do, or is this just a simple case of being absolutely fucked?
I think there’s an answer, but it’s not found in the scientific or medical community. Let’s turn our attention to the land of stories and myths. Many (if not most) heroes have to deal with extraordinary tragedy and somehow use it for good. Think about it - Batman’s parents were murdered, so he dedicates his life to saving people (granted, the whole bat obsession is a bit strange). Achilles finally kills Hector after Hector slays his best friend Patroclus (In the Iliad Homer writes, “Achilles is filled with a keening grief so painful that he is sent into spasm.”) Harry Potter’s parents were murdered, and he lost his mentor (Dumbledore), but he still found a way to destroy Voldemort.
What’s my point? Batman, Achilles and Harry Potter were all heroes that were haunted by events from the past, but they didn’t dwell or grovel in their pain. They actually let the pain inform who they would become and the journey they would take through life. They lived in action, no matter how awful or unbearable it was. That’s the lesson here, and that’s the only thing that works when all else fails. When our pain and our grief is that strong, we have a choice - we can resist it (a futile endeavor), or we can accept it and let it become a part of us. We can use the pain as a catalyst to become something we never could be otherwise. It’s no secret that some of the greatest people alive have been through some of the worst shit imaginable.
When the feeling’s in the core, let it stay awhile. Let it inform the person you want to become. Let it change you into something greater than you ever believed you could be. I know that’s easier said than done, and it’s certainly not a recipe for feeling good all the time. Personally, I don’ think we’re supposed to feel good all the time. Pain is perhaps the biggest blessing we can we receive if we shift our perspective to see it that way. When all else fails, what else is there to lose?
These are only my thoughts from my own experience of years of therapy, a year-long stint with antidepressants, and wrestling with pain all my life (as we all do). I am in no way a professional, so take whatever works for you and leave the rest. Let me know what you think in the comments below, and follow the physical side of my healing and adventures on Instagram (@modern.bronze).