From here on, I'm going to use the abbreviation, PCM, for pain control methods in the titles. Thus, this post would be PCM: Meditation. Overnight, I was hit with an ice pick headache. Many Chiarians use the term because it feels like what we imagine having an ice pick stabbed through the top of the head would be like. (I offer apologies to anyone who has had an actual ice pick pierce the top of their skull for any inaccuracies in my depiction of the experience.)
As you might expect, I took my breakthrough pain meds but they require time to take effect. They take effect fastest if you're calm and they can be cancelled out completely if you are too frantic. Therefore, I decided to meditate for the calmness because there's nothing calming about a stabbing pain in the top of the head on its own.
Pardon me for getting sidetracked here but I remember the days when I was just starting to learn about pain control. One source of frustration was the fact that texts told me to meditate but they gave no explanation of how it was done. Therefore, I came up with my own method. I had gotten some ideas from physical therapy where I was hooked up to a machine that measured supposedly measured stress. It made an annoying high pitched noise that eased as the machine decided I was calm. I could not talk or laugh or concentrate on anything so there was no question of chanting some sort of mantra.
I'm going to explain exactly how I meditate most successfully. Just remember that this is something you can try but I'm neither guru nor doctor. If it doesn't work for you, try something else. The first thing I do is put on some music. As unrelaxing as it might sound to some, Pearl Jam works great for me. If some grating form of Swedish death metal works for you, that's what you should use. Once the music is playing at the lowest comfortable volume, I recline in my most comfortable chair. I start breathing as evenly and effortlessly as I can.
The next step is to relax each major muscle group one at a time. I start at the feet and work my way up although this choice was essentially random. There tend to be a few false starts but I go back to that unruly spot and relax it again. You'll want to find a nice, neutral position for each joint because we use one muscle to bend and the opposing one to straighten. You don't want either working harder than it must. I use the mental image of my limbs being floppy like a jellyfish although I avoid any images of creepy tentacled things that might be less than relaxing.
Once I've gotten to this point, I concentrate on my breathing. It's a nice regular sound with nothing startling involved. Between feeling and hearing the effortless in and out of my breathing and the music which I've played too often to hear anything surprising, I slip into my trance. It may be the narcotics but I don't think so since I've done this many times without them, I get the sensation that I'm floating. I'm still touching the recliner at all the usual points but I don't feel my weight. As often as not, I drift off to short naps measured by small gaps in the music that I miss.
Try not to be disappointed but the pain doesn't simply disappear. As with the slight out of body sensation of floating, I feel the pain but it's as if the stabbing is in someone else's head. Try not to pay any attention to it because paying too much attention to anything will bring you out of the trance. If you are used to the sensation, it will not break the trance as easily. Maddie, my favorite grey kitty, uses my lap as a napping platform. Even when I'm not in a trance, I tend not to notice when she climbs into my lap. I'll even pet her for as long as my arms can take it and be soothed.
Meditation is like any other pain control method. It works best when you don't hinder the process. You have to let your mind drift. Trying to concentrate on even pleasant topics will break my trances. I love my wife and find her life vitally interesting but she tends to snap my trances every day when she comes home. Why don't I say anything? Meditation is like any other PCM. I do not want it to crowd out the rest of my life. Writing hurts too but I am a writer. Pain doesn't get to take away my identity.
When your priority is pain control, you need to stop whatever is causing the pain to flare up. If you're a baseball fan, that might mean taking breaks from watching your favorite team fail to score. When you really want to pay attention to the game, it might mean accepting some extra pain. I find that the idea of making choices actually helps me cope.
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