‘Make Peace with Pain’: How Chronic Pain Patients Can Reduce Suicidal Thoughts

By Pat Anson, PNN Editor

Suicide is an important but difficult subject in the pain community, as many people with poorly controlled pain contemplate ways to end it. In a PNN survey of nearly 6,000 pain patients, nearly half said they considered suicide because their pain was poorly treated.

“Without my opioid medicines I will be completely bedridden in never ending agony,” one patient said. “I fear I will be forced into suicide like so many before me because living in never ending unrelieved pain is not a life worth living.”

“I have been severely tapered to a very inadequate level of pain medication and am in so much pain that I am essentially in bed 24/7. I no longer have a life. It is merely an existence and I completely understand why chronic pain patients commit suicide,” said another.

“I was raised to believe suicide was a sin, but I can't say for sure how I'll feel about suicide in a few years if this pain I'm in continues to worsen,” another patient wrote.

Fortunately, most pain sufferers don’t act on those suicidal thoughts, but some lose hope and sink into despair. According to a 2018 estimate, about a quarter of all opioid overdoses are suicides or suicide attempts.

How can pain sufferers avoid suicide ideation? A recent study published in Pain Medicine suggests that pain acceptance – “making peace with pain” – can help reduce suicide risk.

“We know for a fact that when people are in pain — and a lot of pain in particular — it makes them think about killing themselves because they don’t want to be in pain forever,” says lead author Willie Hale, PhD, Assistant Professor of Psychology at University of Texas at San Antonio. “We know there’s a direct relationship here between these two things: The more pain you have, the more you’re going to have in terms of suicidal cognitions.”

Hale and his colleagues surveyed 207 patients with chronic pain, mostly active-duty military, veterans or family members. Respondents were asked about their pain severity, attitudes about suicide, and whether they thought they were a burden to others.

The study is based on the Interpersonal Theory of Suicide, which holds that suicidal thoughts or ideation often begin when individuals feel rejected by others and believe they are a burden. When combined with a reduced fear of death and a suicide “capability,” those thoughts can turn into suicidal behavior.

Hale says when people learn to accept their pain and make peace with it, feelings of burdensomeness and thoughts of suicide diminish. The pain won’t go away, but acceptance will help people push through the pain and participate in activities that make life enjoyable again. More meaningful activity results in more social connectivity -- helping to reduce feelings of rejection and burdensomeness.

“If you can move people from making no peace with their pain to just being a little bit okay with it, that cuts their suicide risk in half, and if you can get them to a high level of pain acceptance, it gets rid of it altogether,” said Hale. “Even if you can’t actually, functionally do anything to make their pain better, if you can just get them to make peace with it, they’re going to be less likely to kill themselves.”

Of course, pain acceptance will not improve access to opioid medication or prevent someone from being tapered to an ineffective dose. The best way to prevent suicide – not examined in this study – is to give patients appropriate pain relief.

“I attempted suicide as the only means of pain relief left available to me,” a person in pain told us. “Not because I was sad or depressed, but because I simply could not live another 10 minutes with no relief in sight.”

What I Learned About Meditation and Acceptance

By Mia Maysack, PNN Columnist

Recently I was asked how I've managed to deal with agonizing pain every day for over 20 years. The answer is far from simple, as it has been an extraordinarily long road that I'll continue to travel for the rest of my life.  

After over a decade of attempting mainstream remedies such as pills, injections, procedures and other therapies, I reached a point of hopelessness that led to contemplating the possibility of giving up. I had become tired and sick of being sick and tired. 

I still am! 

At the beginning of my holistic journey, I felt as though all my options were exhausted. Enough already with the corporate approach to medicine, along with being treated as either a drug seeker or experimental lab rat. 

To be clear, I'm tremendously grateful for all the avenues I've been able to travel, as well as the providers who did what they could to help me along the way. I am even thankful for the doctor who initially misdiagnosed my ear infection as “swimmer’s ear” -- even though it almost cost my life and led to a permanent state of discomfort. 

I wouldn't be who I am without those experiences, nor would I now be in this position to assist others in the treacherous journey that is chronic illness. 

Acknowledging grief, as real a symptom as the hurt itself, was a first step for me. I had to come to terms with knowing what I experienced was not a personal punishment, and also develop a relationship or coexistence with it that was mandatory for my survival.  

After growing in affirmation of those truths, I was then able to wrap my mind around acceptance. That didn't mean I liked the situation and I still don't! My illness doesn't define who I am as a person or where I'm able to go from here -- based on the things that I can control.  

This would be about the time some of you may question the merit of what I'm speaking about. So let me take this moment to break it down.  

Is an altered state of mind going to address or correct all my problems?  No.

Am I suggesting the idea that "positivity" cures?  Also no.  

I am reminded of a medical professional who endured a traumatic spinal injury and was told they'd never walk again. This began a four month long meditative process for this individual, who envisioned having surgery to the point of feeling its physical effects. Needless to say, they are not only walking again, but still practicing medicine.

Of course, there are things that cannot be "fixed." But shifting gears in how we think about a problem cultivates space for an opportunity to no longer dwell on what we're unable to change. Instead, we can invest and focus on what we can change.  

Dwelling isn't the same as grieving, so give yourself permission for having thoughts of "screw this!"  

Exploring new territory is what it means to be human. When we decide our experiences are opportunities for evolution, there's always a chance of merging onto an “on-ramp” that leads to personal growth and acceptance. 

That's another benefit of meditation that I encourage you to study for yourselves. When our bodily systems are more relaxed and we're breathing adequately, there's often improvement in how we’re feeling. Each moment consists of evolution because things are always changing, 

It took a while, but I've come to embody that same sort of energy. There's a lot throughout the world I can’t do very much about. But there are small things I can handle with great love, which includes coexisting with the different aspects of my life. Compassionate nurturing is a monumental and radical task, but it's vital and necessary.  

Mia Maysack lives with chronic migraine, cluster headache and fibromyalgia. Mia is the founder of Keepin’ Our Heads Up, a Facebook advocacy and support group, and Peace & Love, a wellness and life coaching practice for the chronically ill.

Living with Chronic Pain: Acceptance or Denial?

By Ann Marie Gaudon, PNN Columnist

It’s commonly understood that chronic pain not only negatively influences our physical health, but also leads to changes in our sense of self, as well as how we experience the world around us.

An interesting Swedish study set out to explore these factors. Twenty people with long-standing musculoskeletal pain were involved. Each participant completed 20 “qualitative” interviews -- which means the questions were designed to lead to descriptive answers, not hard data such as numbers or graphs on a chart.

The opening question was asked like this: “Please describe your problems. I’m thinking of the problems that made you contact a physiotherapist?”

All of the questions were focused on the participant’s perception of his or her body and were open-ended enough to encourage them to provide a narrative of their lives. After the answers were collected and analyzed, four distinct typologies emerged.

Typology A: Surrendering to one’s fate

In this typology, subjects do not oppose their pained body. They accept that their pain cannot be eliminated, so why battle against it? They are aware of their limitations and adapted accordingly.

When you accept pain, you can still engage in more important (non-pain) aspects of life. The pained body becomes more integrated with life when the person trusts their ability to cope with the unpredictability of it. Listening to signals and adapting becomes the norm. One participant described it this way:

“No, I don’t rely on my body, because I never know when the pain will come… I always have to consider how to carry things through, what I am doing, why I do it… to prevent pain afterwards. It (the body) is with me and I am the one who decides”

Typology B: Accepting by an active process of change

In contrast to Typology A, in this typology people accept pain through deliberate and active coping strategies. Attitude is adapted in the face of the new reality of living with pain, and it becomes possible to undergo positive change and go on to a richer life.

The precondition for this change is believing that the body and soul are closely linked. Participants describe a previous total lack of body awareness that changes to a life where the body becomes a wise teacher. They look to the future with optimism, while realizing it will take great effort.

The integration of the aching body into life requires a trusting and hopeful cooperation between self and body; there is trust that the body will help even when in pain. The pain puts the body in the foreground. When pain is not being fought against, it enhances both body awareness and self-awareness. One description read like this:

“…growing consciousness is the only, the only way to take control of the pain.”

Typology C: Balancing between hope and resignation

Here researchers found that major changes in life brought on by constant pain put the subject into a state of ambivalence. There is a pendulum swing back and forth between accepting and rejecting the aching body. Hope sees a way forward, but time after time despair sets in.

Integrating the aching body into life becomes problematic and the relationship with the body seems unclear at best. The subject swings from listening to the body to avoiding it.

Accepting this burdened body is necessary to move forward, yet that change is not fully realized. Pain results in feelings of fear or worry. The cause of the pain is considered complex and the subject has a tendency to ignore warning signals.  An example of this:

“My pain started because I am too slender for cleaning work, I believe. This, I think, is how my pain all began but you go on and on and don’t listen to our body until it is too late.”

Typology D: Rejecting the body

In this typology, integrating the aching body into life is impossible and rejected. The word acceptance is considered an insult or a threat. The pain is impossible to accept. The aching body is an enemy, life is unfair and unsafe, and something worse may happen. The subject has no trust in the body and nothing helps.

Living in denial like this may be beneficial for overcoming a short-term crisis, yet the costs in the long run lead to an inability to cope. A quote from one participant:

“No, no, no, I won’t do it. No, I don’t know how my body will react in different situations… it is against me”

Clinical Implications

The results from this study indicate that chronic pain patients can be found along a broad spectrum from accepting to rejecting their aching bodies. Both body awareness and body reliance seemed to be important for acceptance to take place and for life to be manageable.

Reinforcing body awareness and reliance may be a possible way forward. Your body and life may not have played out how you had anticipated, but you can still adjust to life and living with a pained body.

Ann Marie Gaudon is a registered social worker and psychotherapist in the Waterloo region of Ontario, Canada with a specialty in chronic pain management.  She has been a chronic pain patient for 33 years and works part-time as her health allows. For more information about Ann Marie's counseling services, visit her website.

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represents the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.

6 Emotional Stages of Chronic Pain

By Ann Marie Gaudon, PNN Columnist

Emotions are part of our life experience and influence how we cope with challenging situations such as chronic pain.

Emotional responses to pain are not “bad” or “negative” because they are a natural response to life events. For example, depression is often seen as a sign of poor health, but it can also be a way of conserving bodily energy.

Emotions are never a sign of weakness. Emotions are adaptive responses which have helped us survive as a species.

Did you know there are normal emotional stages of injury and pain? Not everyone goes through every stage and it is not a linear process. Sometimes we bounce from stage to stage in no particular order.

Let’s look at these 6 emotional stages of chronic pain:

Denial

Denial is when we refuse to acknowledge how we feel and try to conceal the problem. When we’re in this stage our thoughts are likely: “It’s probably nothing serious” or “It will pass soon enough.”

Typical denial behaviour would be to ignore the pain, keep going as though you’re not in pain, failure to seek medical attention, and not following medical advice. Basically, you’re acting like nothing is going on in your body.

Denial is also culturally reinforced by beliefs that we should “suck it up, don’t complain and keep working.”

Fear and Anxiety

We feel fear and anxiety when the reality of something wrong hits home. You will likely be thinking quite repetitively during this stage. Typical thoughts would be: “Something is very wrong” or “What’s going to happen to me?” 

In this stage, your behaviour might be to rest and withdraw or avoid activities to protect yourself from further injury or pain. You will find yourself preoccupied with a lot of worry. You will likely begin to scan your environment and your body for threats to either, and it will be hard to commit to work or play.

Depression

Depression is the most common response to chronic pain and tends to come after fear and anxiety. Your thoughts would be normal in this stage if they were: “What’s the use?” or “Why bother with anything anymore?”

Realize none of this is enjoyable or desired; it is a normal response to chronic pain. Your behaviour would be to reduce participation in normal physical activities – even the enjoyable ones.  Social withdrawal would continue as a protective adaptation and you might experience problems with sleep.

Depression can impair your sense of self and you may grieve the loss of your identity. If you’re not an employee and parent anymore, then who are you? It is normal to withdraw in depression when your world shrinks in size.

Anger

Another emotional stage, and one I am quite familiar with, is anger. This defensive behaviour is the “fight” in the fight-flight-freeze response. It energizes you to resist the problems that come with chronic pain, and to ward off danger and restore safety. Normal angry thoughts about your pain would be: “It’s not fair” or “Why me?”

Behaviours in this stage can sometimes be troublesome, as they may become impulsive (acting or speaking quickly without thinking it through) or compulsive (repetitive behaviour not serving a purpose). You may overreact to smaller things and blow up at others. You might also engage in risky behaviour such as abusing alcohol or other substances to try to numb yourself.

The key is to express your anger in a healthy manner and hopefully transform it into affirmative action.  This is where you find the message in your anger and put it to work for you. I put my anger to work for me as I advocate for chronic pain patients on a regular basis.

Shame

Shame is not to be confused with guilt. Guilt says, “I’ve done something bad” while shame says, “I am bad.” Shame comes from how we see ourselves as damaged goods and can lead to feelings of self-loathing and disgust. You might think: “I’m worthless” or “I’m a complete failure.”

As a therapist, I find this to be a particularly powerful and difficult stage for clients, as shame often takes up all the space in the room. Behaviours in this stage would be continued social withdrawal, a decrease in assertiveness and self-confidence, and possibly self-destructive behaviours such as abusing alcohol or drugs.

Acceptance

The final emotional stage of coping with chronic pain is acceptance. Some patients reach this stage fairly quickly and others never reach it.

Let me be crystal clear about acceptance: It does not mean that you want this pain or that you like this pain and gladly accept it. Absolutely not. What it does mean is that you accept yourself without judgment, you live in the present moment, and you accept what is. Your thoughts will be along these lines: “This is not my fault” or “I can and will cope with this.”

Behaviours begin to change in this stage. You will be less focused on the past and have more realistic expectations of yourself. You will maintain appropriate levels of physical activity, use medications appropriately, reduce your emotional stress, and begin to experience feelings of peace rather than constantly beating yourself up.

Acceptance does not mean that you no longer feel any of the other emotions.  You may still experience feelings of denial, fear and anxiety, depression, anger and shame, but they will be less often and with less intensity.

Acceptance -- which includes hefty doses of self-compassion -- does not cure anyone’s physical pain, but it does facilitate better coping and reduced emotional stress. You do not accept pain because you want it or like it, but because it is here, you have it, and you respond to it in a kinder, gentler way.

The purpose of acceptance is to engage in activities that you feel have value. Within this purpose, acceptance becomes relevant and necessary. As a consequence, there is often less time spent struggling against and trying to avoid pain -- time freed up to engage in more valued pursuits.

It may take some time and support to acquire this tool, but once you have, it’s yours for life. Double entendre fully intended.

Ann Marie Gaudon is a registered social worker and psychotherapist in the Waterloo region of Ontario, Canada with a specialty in chronic pain management.  She has been a chronic pain patient for 33 years and works part-time as her health allows. For more information about Ann Marie's counseling services, visit her website.

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represents the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.