It took away my pain. Literally.
Just over two weeks ago, I sprained my ankle. I have been
fairly lucky in that I have been able to walk on it, but there is no question that
it hurts. On Sunday, in San Francisco, I was walking a lot, and my foot was
doing alright, but it was definitely hurting, and I was definitely not walking
my typical speed. I was limping along and wondering why I was being stupid
enough to walk miles at a time.
When I first lost my friend, the thought of adding extra
steps to my day to look for her made my foot hurt. I limped back to where I had
lost her, then limped back to where I thought I might find her. But then the
minutes ticked by, and I had not seen her. The adrenaline started pumping, and
I started walking faster. Then I started even running. I did not feel my foot
again until I found her. Somewhere in the middle of that time, I even realized
what I was doing. I realized I was moving faster, and I realized it was not
hurting.
Adrenaline is powerful. Even bringing my thought process to
the lack of pain did not bring it back.
But then the adrenaline began to dissipate, and about five
minutes after I found my friend, my foot was throbbing. Luckily, we were
getting on a boat to view the beautiful bay, and I was able to not only rest my
foot for an hour, but I was able to reflect on adrenaline. And yes, I actually
did reflect on adrenaline during that boat ride, even amidst viewing the
magnificent Golden Gate Bridge on its 75th birthday.
There is no question about why the adrenaline made me forget
the pain. When we are faced with a truly mortal circumstance, the pain in our foot
is far less important than the possibility of being eaten by a tiger. We are
better off running away and dealing with a painful foot than being lunch. That
makes sense.
But most of us, especially those of us in stressful life
situations (all of us, probably), rarely come down from that adrenaline rush.
Some people, especially the Kiwis, crave it, and jump out of airplanes or off
bridges to feel the adrenaline. But most of us have a decent amount of
adrenaline running through our systems on a daily basis we do not need to add
any more.
But what happens to us when we live in that adrenaline
phase? Adrenaline makes us unaware of the pain and the disease our body is
experiencing. It literally turns off our sensors, so strongly that even when we
realize we are ignoring the pain, we do not feel it. That might be okay for a
moment (though I realize I could have made my foot a lot worse, and I am lucky
I did not), but it can lead to serious difficulties over the long term.
If we notice disease or pain early, we can rest and recover
with far less interruption to our lives. Our bodies are naturally good at
healing, and when we notice we need to heal, and we take the time to do it, we
can. But if the adrenaline we experience day in and day out blinds us to our own
pain and disease, it gets worse and worse. Eventually it can get so bad, even
the adrenaline can no longer hide it from our view. It hits us in the face, and
we must face it.
That can be devastating. The pain and disease by that point
may take a lot more than simple breathing, rest, and some extra exercise can
remedy. Our hyped-up adrenaline lives often lead us into painful paths. In
2012, we rarely face the mortal dangers our stress-response adrenaline rush is
designed to counteract. Instead, we face daily stressors from which we never fully
release our adrenaline. It remains in our system potentially blinding us to all
the pain and disease our body holds, and one day that might come back as a much
bigger problem.
Ignoring a sprained ankle for 30 minutes may be stupid, but
it probably will not result in a terminal disease. But what else are we
ignoring in our daily lives? What are you ignoring? Is your adrenaline making
you blind to your own pain and disease?
Namaste!
©
Rebecca Stahl 2012, all rights reserved.
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