Pain is the signal you can't control
It's a thought I had, reading an intro to a book I bought today.
The book is a translation of Stefan Zweig's biography of Montaigne. I bought it because, well, I buy cheap kindle books all the time. Amazon knows my drug. I like Montaigne's Essays, I read the description of the book from the reviews people wrote (and I even read the "critical" reviews, which was helpful), and said "Hey, for $2, sure!" People pay more for a coffee. I buy a new book.
Well, I come across a bit in the intro about how this book was the last thing (or near to the last thing) Zweig wrote before he died by suicide. And how Montaigne basically helped him take that path. Which, to me, is sad. Now, the intro gives details about Zweig, and given he was in exile from Germany due to the Nazis taking over, I understand somewhat. Lots of people took that way out. And the line, which I'm not going to transcribe, came from a desire for control.
But that's the part people don't want to admit -- the lack of control.
Separately, I'm following the Bible in a Year podcast, which I started this year, and one of the books it's going through right now is Ecclesiastes (you know "everything is vanity!" - that one). And a big part of it is reminding people how little control one has how things turn out, and that we all die. It's not that things are meaningless, or anything like that. But it's the old memento mori coming back, and to remember your limitations. Know thyself, for crying out loud.
But to bring it back to pain.
I really screwed up my arms and shoulders last week simply by sleeping on them wrong (yes, really) and I hurt them extremely bad. I couldn't use my right arm at all. I had never had it this bad. I bought some extra ice packs, and just chilled (literally). I'm still having trouble, but yow. This is the pain that tells you "Something screwed up really bad and you have got to rest, so stop it right now." So I stopped it right then. It's actually been slowly getting better. So yay. But if I over-exert, I am reminded that I am firmly (pudgily?) in middle age. I don't injure myself from sports. I injure myself from sleeping. I wrenched something in my shoulders by turning over my bulk, I think. I just need to give my joints and muscles a chance to repair.
But a lot of my pain isn't connected to anything one can point out. It's not anything I can really control. And that's a pain, too.
Anyway, I keep trying to figure out that type of pain. They type that isn't tied to anything that I can do anything about. My migraines, nerve pain, etc. I hope it goes away, but it may never go away. Anyway, sometimes you have to realize that no, you don't have control.
The book is a translation of Stefan Zweig's biography of Montaigne. I bought it because, well, I buy cheap kindle books all the time. Amazon knows my drug. I like Montaigne's Essays, I read the description of the book from the reviews people wrote (and I even read the "critical" reviews, which was helpful), and said "Hey, for $2, sure!" People pay more for a coffee. I buy a new book.
Well, I come across a bit in the intro about how this book was the last thing (or near to the last thing) Zweig wrote before he died by suicide. And how Montaigne basically helped him take that path. Which, to me, is sad. Now, the intro gives details about Zweig, and given he was in exile from Germany due to the Nazis taking over, I understand somewhat. Lots of people took that way out. And the line, which I'm not going to transcribe, came from a desire for control.
But that's the part people don't want to admit -- the lack of control.
Separately, I'm following the Bible in a Year podcast, which I started this year, and one of the books it's going through right now is Ecclesiastes (you know "everything is vanity!" - that one). And a big part of it is reminding people how little control one has how things turn out, and that we all die. It's not that things are meaningless, or anything like that. But it's the old memento mori coming back, and to remember your limitations. Know thyself, for crying out loud.
But to bring it back to pain.
I really screwed up my arms and shoulders last week simply by sleeping on them wrong (yes, really) and I hurt them extremely bad. I couldn't use my right arm at all. I had never had it this bad. I bought some extra ice packs, and just chilled (literally). I'm still having trouble, but yow. This is the pain that tells you "Something screwed up really bad and you have got to rest, so stop it right now." So I stopped it right then. It's actually been slowly getting better. So yay. But if I over-exert, I am reminded that I am firmly (pudgily?) in middle age. I don't injure myself from sports. I injure myself from sleeping. I wrenched something in my shoulders by turning over my bulk, I think. I just need to give my joints and muscles a chance to repair.
But a lot of my pain isn't connected to anything one can point out. It's not anything I can really control. And that's a pain, too.
Anyway, I keep trying to figure out that type of pain. They type that isn't tied to anything that I can do anything about. My migraines, nerve pain, etc. I hope it goes away, but it may never go away. Anyway, sometimes you have to realize that no, you don't have control.