Soldiering Through Suffering: How to Stop Pushing Through Pain to Win the War

Why Is "Being Strong" The Default When We Are Broken?

Survival instincts and "survival mode," as we often call it, exist for a reason. In life, seasons of suffering - trauma, abuse, death of loved ones, diagnosis of a disease, financial hardships, ongoing stress, etc. - bring us to "just trying to make it through the day."

These circumstances necessitate survival mode, both in our body's physiological changes (to perform through intense stress), as well as in all the ways we have to cope with the losses. We become battle hardened. We become fighters, soldiers... survivors.

This is the conflict that those in deep pain walk out daily:

How can I be the strongest I've ever been (and keep walking through this suffering) when I am the weakest I've ever been (and feel like I can't do it anymore)?

Unfortunately, nearly everything else (both in and around us) feeds into this same way of thinking when we are suffering.

Internal Pressures

When our mental and emotional pain becomes intense and prolonged, it is often too overwhelming (and we have few resources and other people who can help us navigate this well). We protect ourselves from feeling by numbing, medicating, dissociating, or being in denial.

It can lead us to seek relief by various means: addictions, hardening ourselves from feeling, isolating from others, or even by soldiering forward as "the strong one." 🙋

The problem is, pain continues to build as the wounds fester under the surface, and it drives problem behaviors and brokenness that won't heal until the hurts are faced.

External Pressures

The voices of culture, family, friends, and acquaintances, though well-meaning, often speak idolatrous words. Words of the supremacy of "strength over weakness," powering through, overcoming... while people also wave banners of positivity and gratitude over our bleeding hearts. Unfortunately this typically starts long before we've actually come to terms with our losses and grieved them. Few are willing to join us there.

Their platitudes do not apply pressure to our wounds, but instead they cover our mouths (which are often trying to speak grief as the language that it is). These "motivational" sounds bites can be:

• "Everything happens for a reason."

• "At least......[fill in the blank]"

• "Suck it up and keep going. You've got this."

• "People die. That's life."

• "Isn't it time you move on?"

"Be strong," were some of the only words a friend spoke to me within a matter of weeks from losing my husband by suicide. I stood dumbfounded at my door with swollen eyes, wearing one of his shirts, and with his wedding ring on a chain around my neck.

I didn't invite her in to stay.

Another reason we put our walls up is toxic positivity. While it's a culturally "hip" phrase that is thrown around often these days, I want to define it here:

"Toxic positivity is the practice of expecting people to maintain a positive attitude or mindset regardless of their circumstances or emotions."

And through a megaphone, hear me say:

That is not human! Also, suffering is a key time we should NOT try to be superhuman.

Unfortunately, the church is often not a safe place to hide from the pressure (er, "encouragements") to clean up our mess and stay out of the "darkness." Or, we at least only get a certain amount of time that is deemed "appropriate" to struggle in any particular way. Most common is the judgements people make as they watch.... with their hearts at a distance.

We can even have opportunities taken from us that are life-giving based on the judgement of leaders or others who deem us no longer "fit" for service. This is a punishment to those suffering and exacerbates the pressure to "keep it together" to order to belong and participate in the body.

Faith verbiage that misses compassion comes from those who can't grieve with you, and sounds like:

• "God works all things for good..."

• "Give thanks in all things!"

• "God needed another angel"

• "Remember, God is positive"

It is not only that these things are ridiculous to say to someone carrying great pain, but they reveal the lack of empathy. The person hasn't connected at with/has forgotten what it would be like to be standing in your shoes... as evidenced by the things like these they are saying. It often reveals they way they themselves are coping with their own pain.

Here's a helpful hint: sufferers are most likely to be able to hear hard/true things they may benefit from considering from those who empathize with them. If you haven't felt the pain, cried or mourned with them... it's probably not you.

A Healing Reality

God is a suffering God. The Bible describes Him as grieving, weeping, comforting mourners, and coming alongside sufferers - to the point of easing their burdens and experiencing suffering Himself. He doesn't put it on a timeline. He lived human struggles and He is not afraid of our mess or our journey.

We are called to follow His example. Rather than pushing our own ideas, agendas, and time frames on others, may we truly contemplate being in their shoes. If we are able to authentically say, "I have no idea..." we are closer to actually getting it. Humility makes us safe companions for sufferers.

The moral of the story is this: while we can be thankful for the things that help us stay alive and get through for a season, we can't take survival mode as a new way of living... which we so often do.

Why We Lose The War With This Mentality

While we shouldn't be hard on ourselves for the things we did we did to survive (enter abundant grace, y'all), it is also detrimental to our healing and growth to try to "power through" the entirety of our suffering.

Impact On Our Health

Our body and brain develop loops and patterned ruts that are not only harmful to our overall health, but become increasingly difficult to get out of. Constant stress leads to things like adrenal fatigue, stomach ulcers, anxiety, chronic illnesses, and more.

In our attempt to soldier forward and "keep going" in unsustainable patterns, the panic grows, and ultimately, our pain increases.

My Lightbulb Moment

I was nearly four years into widowhood, carrying the all the needs of my struggling four children. The first few years were intensely dark; I was literally trying to keep myself and one of my children from dying by suicide ourselves.

A bit farther down the road, however, I couldn't stop the "go mode" I found myself in. The weight was still so heavy, and I was overburdened but convinced that "this is just how life is now."

I remember taking the children to school (my driving had long ago turned into an offensive sport, trying to get four children all the places, in not enough time, by myself), and I realized I had a couple hour window without a task on the calendar. This was extremely rare, as I had very little "free" time.

I immediately pulled up my long "To-Do List." What on the list could I get done? I remember feeling panicky as I mapped out a course of stops around town and what I could try to get off my plate before the next calendar event.

My second husband-to-be called me at that time (he lived in another state), and when he discovered my time window and the stressful running I was about to embark on, he asked, "Why in the world would you do that right now? You never have any time to yourself. Can you just rest? Find a peaceful place? Have time for something you would enjoy?"

I'll never forget that moment. His words, "time for yourself... rest... peaceful... enjoy," seemed to seep deeper into my bones and into my brain. I realized - quite shocked, actually - that four years of living hell later, there were ways I was still doing it in a panic where I didn't need to be. I was so used to stress and chaos and misery that I was missing where I actually could step out of it.

In fact, I would be right next to some of those errands later in the week (and with a more efficient opportunity to get them done), but I was about to run the only down time I had away in a needless frenzy.

My default was still to keep everyone alive; to keep it all from falling apart. You see, I was still trying to survive. And I had long since lost myself in it.

As previously mentioned, we are also surrounded by voices that keep us in "moving on" mode. The bigger issue is that we don't realize there is a gentler and better way, and that we can choose not to surround ourselves with these same voices and same people.

The Vicious Cycle... And It's End Point

Press on. Give more. Keep going. Don't Stop

Pushed past our own limitations and in overwhelm, we collapse.

Then the shame hits. We are a failure.

Due to the needs around us and the internal and external pressures discussed previously, we clean ourselves up as much as we can to be presentable to others. You see, without safe people and places, we can't show how broken we still are.

We jump back into the cycle of trying to manage it, never really getting to the deeper healing.

This cycle ultimately keeps us helpless, hopeless, and disempowered.

How To Win The War

The answer lies in learning to be softer with ourselves, rather than becoming bulletproof. Though we would prefer complete relief from suffering, the only way through that leads to healing is honestly naming and feeling your heartache. Safe connection/witnesses with you in your pain are also key to growing rather than becoming crippled.

Can you accept your humanity? You are imperfect, and limited... especially right now in the midst of the struggle.

Is that ok? It is!

Actually, it must be for you to get through.

Another key is to lay down the panic, the defenses, and the fears, and dare to dream. Dare to reimagine your future and find purpose in the "new" you are rebuilding.

You have a lot more power to do things that bring you life, even in the midst of darkness, than you may realize.

In the first (and worst) years after Andre's death, in the midst of doing nothing but surviving with the children, I would have a yearly get away to the warm ocean. I can't even describe what it did for me. I was so low that I felt cold in my soul as well as my body. Going there warmed me all over and through. It brought me hope and peace and joy I was out of touch with for so long. I had the help of people to get there. And it was SO worth it!

If your life wasn't over (because it's not), what would you want it to look like?

Probably less like a war zone, and more like coming home. You can create that place, and you are creating a new you.

With you,

Rachel

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