I sprained my lower back last Saturday.
In addition to causing me excruciating pain and limiting my range of motion, the incident also led me to reflect on some of the beliefs I hold about myself, the way I relate to my body, and the image I seek to present to the world.
A little background is in order here: For the past month, I have been staying with a friend of mine in London since I am trying to find a new place to live. I sleep on a couch that turns into a bed at night, on a mattress topper (I had to look up what they were called) that I must roll up and put away every morning.
When I woke up on Saturday, my back was already feeling not too great. It was tense and hurt a little, but I didn’t pay it much attention. After meditating for a bit, I rolled the mattress topper up to put it away as I always do, but this time, when I bent down to pick it up, I felt something snap in my lower back, followed immediately by a sharp pain that almost took my breath away. I fell down on the couch and could not move for a while, after which I got up with extreme difficulty and started to pace around the room, fearing that if I sat too long, I wouldn’t be able to get up at all.
The funny thing was, while I was making the bed and getting ready to put away the mattress topper, I was thinking to myself that having to stay at my friend’s place and not sleeping on a proper bed was affecting my health, and that was one more reason (not that I needed more of them) why I should double down on my efforts to find a place to live.
I felt ashamed of having to live with my friends because my financial situation had not been great. This was immediately followed by thoughts of “I should not have been in this situation. I should be making enough money by now to live on my own, etc.,” which led to even more shame. When the pain finally subsided a little bit, my mind was bursting with self-retribution/self-loathing/self-anger (take your pick) as I cursed myself out loud while pacing around the room.
Recounting the incident to my therapist two days later, he made an important point that made me pause and think. He suggested that the stress that I had been carrying around for the past couple of months (about my financial situation, my need to find a place to live, etc.) may have led to a buildup of physical tension in my body without my noticing or acknowledging it, as a result of which one careless move led me to injure my back. Incidentally, his suggestion came at a time when I had just finished reading Gabor Maté’s The Myth of Normal, where he argues for mind-body unity and warns against the futility of trying to separate the two.
Although it can easily veer into the realm of meaningless new-age stuff (“Think yourself back to health!” and all that crap), taken with a dose of healthy skepticism, I can see that Mate has a point. It is difficult to deny that there is a connection between our emotions and our bodies. To allude to the title of a famous book, maybe the body does keep the score,1 meaning that all our unrecognized, unprocessed, or repressed emotions have a tendency to make themselves known sooner or later as some kind of ailment in our bodies.
Looking back at my experience through that lens, maybe it wasn’t fair to blame that final careless move I made while putting away the mattress topper for what had happened to me. Maybe that was only the final straw that broke my tension-riddled back (I had to do it, sorry!). Underlying it all may have been the months-long accumulation of all my unrecognized and unprocessed emotions that made my body a ticking time bomb for something to go wrong. And that is exactly what ended up happening.
The whole saga also led me to reflect more generally on my rather unhealthy approach to the things that go wrong in my life. In other words, instead of taking the unfortunate events that befall me as a natural part of being human, which is what a “normal” person would do, I tend to see them as weaknesses. And I’ve told you before how I feel about being weak or vulnerable. I simply don’t like it, and I go to great lengths not to show it.
Remember how I said that immediately after my back snapped, I tried to get up and pace around the room because I was afraid that if I stayed in one position for too long, I wouldn’t be able to move at all? Well, that was half of it. The other half was that I didn’t want my friends to see me paralyzed with pain. I felt a need, almost a compulsion, not to show my "weakness,” which was how I mentally defined what had just happened to me.
And so, trying to walk as normally as I could, I just asked for some painkillers from my friend and immediately rolled out my yoga mat to do some stretches to try to relieve the tenseness in my back. It was, I see now, a desperate effort to have some sort of control over the situation and fix it as quickly as I could so that I would no longer be weak or vulnerable.
Not only that, but once I started to feel a little better, I went out and met another friend that day, simply because I felt horrible about having to cancel my plans with him. In my mind, as long as I could walk, having an injured back was not an excuse not to honor my commitment. And that is what I did. Despite having occasional muscle spasms that came out of nowhere and made me feel like I was struck by lightning every time they hit, I managed to drag myself to Tate Modern, where we were supposed to see an exhibition, which also meant that I was on my feet for two hours straight.
Why, though? In my mind, this is the question that I keep coming back to.
Why do I feel the need to not show any vulnerability?
Why can’t I ask for help or even accept that I need help?
What do I think would happen? Would my plea for help not be accepted? Even worse, would I be shunned? Rejected?
Am I afraid of being a burden to other people?
Why can’t I be compassionate toward myself?
And on the flip side, what does this almost pathological reluctance to accept my own vulnerability say about the way I think of myself? Do I see myself as being better than others?
Do I believe that I should be immune from suffering, which I apparently think is reserved for mere mortals? And what kind of a person does this line of reasoning actually make me? What does it say about me?
These questions make me uncomfortable. I don’t want to face them and what they mean.
I also know that that is precisely why it is a good idea for me to keep going back and reflecting on them.
Will I reach definite answers or permanent solutions? Unlikely. But I may get to know myself a little bit better.
And that is all I could ask for.
Until next time!
Bessel van der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma
I'm so glad you have redeemed your episode of back pain a little by transforming it into wisdom and sharing it with everyone here!
After a decade of similar episodes of back spasms, I've concluded that mine are also related to unexpressed emotions. John Sarno's book, "Healing Back Pain" was an eye-opener for me.
Blessings upon you as you continue on this journey of living with an integrated heart and body!
Hi Doga, I am so sorry about your back pain and the discomfort it has brought you--not only physical but emotional. I read this account with great interest, because your thought process and physical responses sounded so familiar to me! I have gone through very similar processes in the past, both in terms of backpain and my struggle to keep up with a stoic attitude/strong face and hiding my "weaknesses." It is real, and you are not alone! I think a lot of us think that way because we were raised to be strong and expected to handle "adult situations" alone. I can imagine the pressure to do that to be even bigger for men due to the way masculinity is defined by our cultures.
What I'm amazed at is that you finished Gabor Mate's thick book (I have it but it's still sitting on my shelf, LOL!). I have a strong belief--and visceral experience of how the body keeps the score and how trauma has affected my mind, body and spirit, especially during the entire period of sexual betrayal trauma. I have talked with many women with the same experience and the physical symptoms are real. The surprising thing is that our bodies respond with ailments even though our mind chose to believe in a different reality. The body is much faster and smarter than our mind, even though we often try to ignore the signs and what they are telling us.
I'm amazed at all the self inquiries you have done since the incident. I believe you will find the answers to your inquiries. I truly do. Your therapists also asked many helpful questions.
Regarding the physiology of the back pain itself, well, since I had a frozen back in my 30s and helped myself heal from it using postural alignment exercises, I have come to understand that part of the causes, besides emotional tension, is the way we habitually carry our body. Overtime, certain muslces get overused and others are underused. The imbalance creates tension that when under extra physical exersion or stress, may tip over into an acute injury because the body just can't take it anymore! The muscles get into spasm and the resulting pain is a smart way to get you to stop exerting yourself so they can rest and heal.
There are simple exercises to restore muscle balance. I would recommend you to do just one. It's effortless and can help relax your lower back muscles. (In this acute phase, do not do other stretches that can make it worse). Here is a video that I made. You can watch the part starting here:
https://youtu.be/D0wOA1vVQCI?si=ppKFztiLVFVg42hn&t=266
No need to do the other exercises in this video for now. Hope it helps. Take care!