Pain Like A Lover
Chronic pain is a cruel companion, but I’m learning to live with it.
Content Note: This piece discusses chronic pain, medical gaslighting, emotional distress, and brief mentions of suicidal ideation. If you’re in a vulnerable place, please take care while reading.
Just a little note first. If you’re on Instagram, this is for you: I want to be your penpal! I’ll be picking 20 lucky fans at random to receive a hand-signed letter & custom stickers in the mail from me. To enter: follow me on Instagram (@itsmevox) and simply repost my album cover (this photo below! click it!) into your stories. Write which song is your favorite on the album and why! Giveaway ends April 16 at 11:59pm EST.
Early in my chronic illness, I likened my relationship with pain to that of a toxic lover—unpredictable, consuming, impossible to leave.
The gaslighting. You’re so sensitive, it hisses. It’s all in your head. They think you’re faking it. Your friends don’t want to hang with you now that you’re sick.
The blame shifting. This is all your fault anyway. You didn’t eat the right foods. You pushed too hard. You didn’t push hard enough. It always finds a way to make you the problem.
The love bombing, with constant communication and no respect for boundaries. Where you at? Oh, you think you can go to the store and out to dinner without me? Hello?! Answer me! Then suddenly disappearing for a week or two, only to pop back out of the blue—I need you. You’re my soulmate.
It’s high highs and low lows, being chronically ill. I oscillate wildly.
Currently I’m in the depths—sick of feeling sick. So uncomfortable I want to crawl out of my skin. My head crushed in a vice. White-hot, blinding nausea. I want to throw up all my organs, leave this skin suit behind, and start again. Weakly, I call out to no one, Help me, please.
In this place, it feels like nothing helps. I scream at my partner. I am wretched. Leave me alone.
I’m too tired now to even properly emote. My face is blank, and tears languidly blanket it. I feel I would do anything to make the pain stop. It’s just a momentary feeling, but it terrifies me.
From there, I sink into pity. Why me? What did I do to deserve this? I run through recent wrongs I’ve committed, as if sickness has anything to do with morality.
This is the resistance. I’m in too deep to claw my way out. It’s coiled so tight it burns. The arrow is poised, my muscles are shaking but I can’t let go—afraid of the bite. If I don’t fight with the pain, how will it know it’s not welcome here?
Today, my debut album releases. Along with it is the final chapter of an album that chronicles my life story. And the end of my life story thus far is my relationship with a constant pain companion.
My favorite lyrics on the entire album are the ones that complete it. They’re at the very end of my song, “Pain Like A Lover,” amongst Jonathan Dreyfus stirring strings and Anwar Sawyer’s poignant piano:
No one would even notice a match struck in the daylight
It’s the darkness that makes it seem bright
It’s the darkness that shows us the light
Perhaps the most life-changing journey I’ve been on is my relationship with my pain monster. It feels like my greatest accomplishment when I simply allow myself rest and care, when I love my body even when it’s hurting, when I don’t judge the emotions that scare me most.
I hope you can find some peace in these songs too.
Album credits:
Written and composed by Sarah Winters
Produced by Alex Tanas, Anwar Sawyer, and Sarah Winters
Mixed by Alex Tanas
Mastered by Darren Vermaas
Single artworks painted by Roxy van Bemmel
Cover artwork by Sophia Schrank, Satya Linak, Jenna Helstowski, Bella Gordon, Cameron Rath, and Studio Aoko
Love,
vōx
God, I can relate to this. I'm currently in the depths, too, right now, in the grasp of the pain monster. Scared to move for fear of angering it. It's such a toxic relationship. Allowing myself rest is still something I'm working on, but that's a whole different monster.
Thank you so much for sharing this, and for your beautiful music. I love what I've heard so far.
I'm so sorry you deal with this too. I'm grateful for the way you've described your experiences. They resonate with mine. I read something that changed my relationship with my pain. It was a mindfulness technique in which I let go of the word "pain" - or any other defining label - and simply focus into the sensations. Separating them in this way (when I can get there) rather miraculously makes the sensations more bearable and the intensity seemed to abate more quickly. Also my anxiety about the "pain" is reduced, which seems to also contribute to de-escalation.