A High Tolerance for Pain

When I was 7 years old I stepped on a nail during a Girl Scouts outing. As one of the mothers tended to my wound I was very proud of myself for not crying. In fact, I remember her say that I must have "a very high pain threshold." Though I barely knew what those words meant, I knew she was happy that I was enduring the injury without a lot of tears and I quoted her later when I told people the story of my stoicism. I considered it a badge of honor that I had a nail in my foot and didn't shed a tear. And, as you may know, badges are a huge thing to Girl Scouts.

This weekend I decided to finally let go of that badge. My right shoulder and wrist have been in pain for quite a while now. In fact, I've been having discomfort in my shoulder for about a year and I've been, well, shouldering the pain with a smile on my face as it gradually got worse. On Saturday morning I helped my friends Helen and Erika move and, despite feeling a little stronger from my recent yoga practice, I felt some pain in my shoulder and, as usual, pretended it was fine. Erika even offered me help a couple of times lifting some heavy boxes and I told her "I've got it, no worries." Then, as I went from their house to my training, it hit me - I was in pain.

My instructor Elise began class by asking if anyone had any new injuries she should know about. Usually I assume my injuries aren't worth the instructors attention but something told me it was time to come out about my pain. I raised my hand and confessed. "I've been having some shoulder and wrist pain," I said, "and I helped my friends move this morning and now its really hurting." She paused and said to me, in a tone that was like a sword cutting through my high tolerance for pain "Why did you do that?" I said I didn't know but as I sat with her question, I totally knew the real answer - I don't like to admit when I'm in pain.

Today in class it came up again as we launched into a series of poses that required holding downward dog for a long time. My shoulder just didn't feel right and I knew I shouldn't be pushing it so, fighting against every ounce of pride I have, I sat on my mat and looked around for help...

At first, no one came to my rescue and I thought to myself, "See, your pain isn't real and its not worth their time. You're fine and stop whining." I got back up started to do what the rest of the class was doing. I started to push through the pain like I always do. And then I stopped again. I put my foot, or rather my butt, down and waved to one of our assistants.

Ellie, (who is the type of beautiful, graceful yogini I assume thinks I am awkward and don't belong in yoga teacher training) came over and asked me very kindly what was going on. I told her about my shoulder and began to feel more vulnerable than I've been in a while. I felt like I was confessing a deep, dark and dirty secret but her response wasn't in line with what I thought was coming out of my mouth. She didn't reprimand me or tell me I was wrong for complaining. Instead, she told me to back off of my shoulder, to give myself a break and she did it all with a warm smile that made me realize how hard I had been on myself.

I picked the practice with the rest of the folks and her warm smile stayed with me. I also cried a little bit, which was scary but felt good. Rather than freak out and try to stop my tears, I let them flow as my body flowed through the poses. With these tears came a new-found sense of ease and awareness. I was able to be gentle with myself and I found that, listening to my own body, I had new experiences in almost every pose that followed. Soon I began comparing myself to other people and coming up short but then I realized that a) they might be dealing with her own pain that they hadn't yet expressed and b) me wanting to look like them is not going to make my shoulder any better. Listening to my own body will.

During our break, Ellie came over to me again and gave me some more pointers on how I could better hold my body to take some pressure off of my shoulder. She also said that a friend of hers had recently commented after a class they took together that she wasn't as "perfect" at yoga as he'd expected. He'd noticed her resting a couple of times during class and was surprised that she didn't come all the way into some of the poses. He'd assumed being a yoga instructor meant you did everything really well. In fact, she said, it just means you know your strengths AND your limitations very well.

I still want to be the girl with a high tolerance for pain. I still think I should be able to do certain things because I'm young or because I'm becoming a yoga instructor. I think I will always struggle with wanting to do things perfectly and get that badge of honor. But this weekend I realized that just because I stepped on a nail once and didn't cry doesn't mean I can't cry now. Ignoring my pain won't make it go away and pushing myself has only proven to make it worse. I'm going to go easy on my shoulder for as long as it takes it to feel better and I'm even going to be a little more tolerant now...of myself.