Tricking My Mind
Pain has a tendency to want to mess with our minds.
It chips away at reluctant hosts with thoughts of weakness and worthlessness, and tries its darndest to make people believe that life sucks.
In it’s most ruthless state, pain creates fear. LOTS of fear. It scares individuals into stopping the things that they love doing the most. It lulls them with false promises as it whispers into their thoughts: if you stop doing the things that make you happy, the things that you love the most, I *will* go away.
Trust me.
The thing is, when pain starts talking this way, it is not to be trusted.
Throughout my more than ten years of living with rheumatoid arthritis, I fell multiple times for these false promises that the pain so often presented in an attractive light. Each time I cast aside the things that bought me joy with each new day, all in the hope that doing so might be *the* thing that would finally make the pain go away, I found myself in a place where I only hurt worse.
I found myself in a dark, scary spot that is unimaginable to many, but which–sadly enough–is all too familiar to many of us who live with chronic pain.
A couple of years ago, after years and years of trying anything/everything to make the pain go away, I decided that I would start tricking my mind.
Instead of telling myself that life sucked, I started telling myself that life was beautiful…just the way it was.
Instead of telling myself that the pain HAD to go away, I started telling myself that everything would be okay…even if (and when) the pain continued.
Instead of telling myself that I was weak, I started telling myself that I was strong.
Instead of telling myself that I was sick, I started telling myself that I was healthy.
Instead of telling myself that I could no longer do x and y, I started–immediately–figuring out just exactly how I *would* do x and y.
And instead of telling myself that feeling scared was a normal response to each new day, I started telling myself that fear had no place in my life.
When I started rewiring my thoughts–or, as I referred to it, “tricking my mind”–I couldn’t help but ask myself (and others who were close to me): am I just fooling myself? Am I just leading myself down a path of denial and unfounded optimism; won’t I just end up in another dark spot, as I have so many time before?
No, you’re not fooling yourself, they told me. You’re doing what you need to do to survive.
Having followed this new path for much of the past couple of years, I’ve discovered a place that is brighter than anything I have known before, either with our without the constant pain.
I find myself in a place where the pain–the very thing that used to hold me back–now motivates me to go out and live life to its fullest, each and every day.
And I’ve come to realize that what I was doing all along wasn’t tricking my mind.
I was tricking the pain.
Stay tuned…for the next adventure of Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy!
Being able to meet others who live with rheumatoid arthritis and who share their stories online was one of the highlights of this summit. I have known many of these inspirational people online for years, and to finally be able to sit down and talk face to face was a wonderful experience. Bloggers in attendance included Carla from 
One morning I stepped outside in the dark pre-dawn stillness, and walked along the Charles River from Boston to Cambridge. It was a brisk autumn day, and the sun started to rise just as I was strolling through Harvard Yard. Many years ago–before rheumatoid arthritis entered my life–I was a student at Harvard’s Graduate School of Design. As I walked around my former neighborhood, I had a chance to reflect not only on who I was back then, but also on who I am at the moment. Though I ensure that my illness does not become my primary identity, I do accept the fact that is is an integral part of my life…and after many years of wishing that the exact opposite were true, I have come to truly appreciate the lessons that I have learned while living with an autoimmune disease.
Each participant was asked to bring something to the summit that represented him or her. One afternoon, we all sat down to share stories (and tears, and laughs). Listening to everyone’s stories of overcoming the challenges of living with rheumatoid arthritis, and seeing the collection of personal objects slowly grow on a table in the middle of our circle, was a moment that I will hold with me forever. This experience reminded me of the importance of making *all* of our stories heard, whether or not we are bloggers. The more that we make our individual and communal voices known, the more people will continue to understand the realities of living with chronic pain and illness. 
I am a strong believer in the fact that no matter what might be happening in our lives at any given moment, there is not better time to laugh and smile than *right now*. Yes, I am human, and I know that tears and sadness do have their time and their place…but they are definitely not something that I want to experience day in, and day out. Quite frequently, we read about the benefits of smiling. During my travels to and from this summit (including a missed connection in Miami and unexpected day-long layover, and my subsequent travels to New York City for Thanksgiving holidays less than 24 hours after returning home to South America), I had many opportunities where I could have let the stress and discomfort of airports, travel, and other travelers settle in. I decided to instead smile, for “no reason at all,” and was surprised to notice that the tension does indeed quickly melt away. We may not be able to always choose our circumstances, but we choose how we decide to react. The way I see it, I have cried enough…now, it’s time for me to smile!