Category Archives: Pain

What if..we could gracefully give ourselves time as needed in the challenges of life?

what if we could gracefully give ourselves time as neededHow long does it take to grieve a loved one who has died?

How long does it take to grieve an ending relationship?

How long does it take to make a career change?

How long does it to take move and settle in to a new city?

How long does it take to have cancer?

Often language implies there is both timing and an ending to these types of challenging life scenarios. 

“You’ll be better in no time!”

“Give it a week and you should be back to normal.”

“You’ve been sick/grieving/grumpy/sad for long enough now.”  Likely followed by a “Get over it.”

“I imagine you can have a new job and be settled within 6 months.”

Many of our corporate policies incorporate timelines and endings as well.

Three days of bereavement leave.

Two weeks of sick leave.

Six months of extended disability leave.

A month of accommodation benefits as part of a moving allowance.

These messages have us believing we can measure and monitor the events of our lives based on some chronological, prescribed time window.

Your body, mind, and spirit have their own sense of time.

The more work I do facilitating bereavement groups, the more I appreciate that the journey of grief takes as long as it takes.  One thing I know for sure – we do not “get over” or “get through” a significant loss in 3 days.

When I think of my Grandmother who died six years ago it is always bitter sweet.  Seeing a cookbook on my shelf that reminds me of her – a sweet memory –  is often linked with a jolt of sadness – that I can no longer call her.  That burst of grief is very real and while I no longer grieve her as I once did, I’m not “over her”, I still grieve from time to time.

And healing from my spinal fusion surgery – depending on how you want to measure it 6 weeks or years.  My back pain sparked a period of deep introspection and I began healing my spirit before the actual surgery.  My scar healed in a matter of weeks.  It took at least a year for the bones to fuse.  It took many moons for my body to begin to realize that when I was invited to an event, such as going to see an art exhibit, it didn’t have to go into resistance and protection mode.  It wasn’t going to hurt any more, but parts of me weren’t aligned with that yet.  How long does rewiring chronic pain take?

What if we could gracefully give ourselves the time needed in the challenges of life?

There are two Greek works for time – chronos and kairos.

“Chronos is clocks, deadlines, watches, calendars, agendas, planners, schedules, beepers. Chronos is time at her worst. Chronos keeps track. …Chronos is the world’s time. Kairos is transcendence, infinity, reverence, joy, passion, love, the Sacred. Kairos is intimacy with the Real. Kairos is time at her best. …Kairos is Spirit’s time. We exist in chronos. We long for kairos. That’s our duality. Chronos requires speed so that it won’t be wasted. Kairos requires space so that it might be savored. We do in chronos. In kairos we’re allowed to be … It takes only a moment to cross over from chronos into kairos, but it does take a moment. All that kairos asks is our willingness to stop running long enough to hear the music of the spheres.”

― Sarah Ban Breathnach

While I don’t necessarily agree that chronos is time at her worst – when scheduling an appointment for example, I’m glad there is a way to represent that in quantitative time – I do believe chronos time can be counter productive.   Applying a time measurement to many aspects of life can set us up to hold ourselves to a standard that is not real, rather it is arbitrary.  It can also feel like trying to live to a moving target.

Tool:  How about stepping into life changes, growth, and healing without strict timelines?  Rather than a focus on chronos time, how about exploring kairos time?  It is not about speed.  It is about being human.  It is about allowing.  It is about alignment.  It is about knowing we have arrived, when we have arrived, not by the date on the calendar.

So the next time someone tells you how to heal faster, or says “You should be over it by now,” gently let them know you are gracefully living by kairos time.

Text and Images  Copyright © Dr. Catherine Hajnal 2015. All rights reserved.

The Other Side of Hope

Hope.  Hopelessness.  Two sides of the same coin?

I’ve been thinking about hope recently, inspired by a book I just finished reading entitled Lessons For The Living:  Stories of Forgiveness, Gratitude and Courage at the End of Life by Stan Goldberg.  Stan is a cancer survivor and volunteers in a hospice.  He brings what he has learned from these experiences into the book.

Here’s an excerpt from his chapter entitled “The Dilemma of Hope.”

Poof!  Not only did hope disappear, but as I looked back on who I became during the intervening time between the onset of hope and learning that my dream wasn’t going to be fulfilled, it wasn’t pleasant realizing that I had allowed hope to let the new me slip away.  People often contrast hope with hopelessness, as if the former is always positive and the latter always negative.  It’s a false dichotomy based on a simplistic understanding of the role of hope.  For Joyce [a hospice patient], hope prevented her from living in the present and appreciating the marvelous things she had accomplished.  For me, hope transformed the scientist and humanist in me into someone who put all faith on the throw of the dice.  Worse, for eighteen months it robbed me of being more genuine with the people I loved.

The absence of hope isn’t a negative state.  The disappearance of hope put me squarely into the present…I no longer invest energy in hoping that the cancer will remain under control — I’m too busy living.

Past, present, future.  We need all of them.  Sometimes looking at the past enables us to reframe it so that we can live in the present.  So that those hooks of past experiences don’t weigh us down, rather they inspire us to go forth in our lives. And sometimes those memories from the past bring us great joy in the present as we remember a fun adventure or a now past loved.  And yet we can’t live in those past stories, we live here.  Now.  In the present moment.

Hope takes us, me, to the future. I want hope.  I want hope that things can be different.  It is part of what inspires me.  I help people connect with their own answers in the belief that they can achieve something different for their next moment. That’s hope.  Maybe it is even beyond, more, deeper than hope.

At the same time I don’t want hope to take me out of connecting with this moment – of seeing what is in front of me right here, right now.  Of being with what is.

I can also feel an edge to hope – the edge that says I want something different and yet I have to consider it might not happen.  If I know it will happen, then it is knowing, belief – beyond hope.

I’m reflecting on hope in the context of a good friend of mine who is living with a lot of pain right now.  I so hope for him to be pain free. There it is – that edge of hope that says maybe he’ll never be pain free.  In the present moment I find myself having to let in his pain and that’s uncomfortable for me.  It hurts to see someone I care about in pain.  Having hope seems easier.  It takes me out of having to fully accept his reality in this moment.  It enables me to side step the depth of my own emotions.

So if I don’t have hope, is it hopeless?  No.  Hopeless feels dark and I don’t feel dark.  There is a deeper knowing here that regardless of what tomorrow brings, I’ll be okay.  He’ll be okay.  It may not be pretty, but it will be okay.  It will be what that moment of life brings.

So perhaps the other side of hope, as Stan suggests is presence.  And perhaps it is belief, knowing.  Surrendering to what is.

 

Text and Images Copyright © Dr. Catherine Hajnal 2011, 2012