Run Towards the Danger
A short story on the power of discomfort.
I heard a story of a Canadian screenwriter who experienced a concussion. The recovery was slow, and extended into several years. Among other symptoms, she couldn’t concentrate and was hypersensitive to light. Everyone in her family had to keep the lights dimmed at home so she wouldn’t get serious headaches.
Gradually she adjusted to a different sort of life—a much smaller one than she’d known before, and one filled with many unhappy compromises.Â
Of course, she kept trying to get better, so she saw lots of different doctors in hopes of finding a helpful treatment. After being passed around from specialist to specialist, she finally ended up at a clinic in Pittsburgh. The doctor there was different—and even a little off-putting. Instead of being quiet and gentle, he was loud and abrupt.Â
He told her that instead of doing everything she could to mitigate her symptoms, she should seek them out. Run towards the danger, he said.Â
To someone who’d been hearing over and over about how she should rest and take it easy, this advice came as a shock. But what did she have to lose? Nothing else was working.
As you might guess, the loud and abrupt doctor’s advice worked. Within six weeks, she was back to her pre-concussion way of life. Not just better. Totally cured.1
Some survivors of autoimmune disorders tell similar stories. I’ve known several people who’ve been chronically ill, disappointed by the lack of effective treatments from most doctors, and who eventually find their way out by doing the opposite of what they’re told. Instead of accepting a life of limited function, they fight back and return to the world of the living.
For me, my mind often goes to running, something I do every day. One of the things I’ve learned in recent years is that sometimes when you feel hurt, you’re not really hurt. Or maybe you are a little hurt, but it’s the kind of hurt you need to endure and push through.Â
When you’re learning to run or lift weights, or presumably most other athletic pursuits, beginners typically stop at the onset of any pain. Or they go too far and injure themselves, hopefully in a minor way. But after they recover, they’re afraid to get hurt again, so they tend to be overly cautious.Â
Eventually—at least, if you want to improve—you learn which types of pain should be respected, and which types can be ignored as you push through.Â
Oh, and about the concussion story: the editors were careful to note that this approach (deliberately seeking out your symptoms instead of trying to manage them) isn’t appropriate for all such injuries.
There are several subtypes of concussions, apparently, so you need to be cautious when trying out alternative treatments. The same is true for autoimmune disorders, continuing to exercise while you’re in pain, and so on. The rules don’t apply to every situation, and neither do the exceptions!Â
Still, the general principle is: don’t hide from the danger; run towards it.
This is a true story! I heard a version of it recently on This American Life. It also looks like it was was told in more detail in a book, Run Towards the Danger.
Chris...I had personal experience with this. I was halfway through my education, which I had started late in life (50 and I needed a masters degree in order to fulfill my plan to become a psychotherapist. The undergrad degree would do no good to fulfill this dream. During the summer between degree programs, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor and spent 7 hours in a surgery that left me unable to walk for three years and terrible fatigue and double vision along with really terrible tinnitus. Rather than lay in bed and worry about my symptoms and what I had lost, I went full bore into my graduate degree online. I had to go through hoops...two out of state residencies (the school rented me a power chair)...practicums and internships where I had to work from 10-30 hours a week, and then two years at an agency so I could earn the hours for licensing. It was the hardest thing I ever did but I think it also helped me to heal. Eight years later, the tumor was regrowing and I had to endure the surgery all over again. I healed for a bit...then went right back to working, but on a more limited basis. Now, the tumor has started to grow again. I just got home from radiation treatment and am in recovery mode again. But I push myself just enough so I don't end up back in bed. There is a part of me that questions whether or not any of this was a good idea. But there is something inside that doesn't want to stop. I am now seventy-three and am still learning, still growing, still doing. Like you, I'm not saying this would be how everyone should handle medicaL setbacks. I think there are times when it could actually be harmful. But I think we all need to push and find the boundaries rather than learn helplessness.
I've found this to be true in the emotional/mental realm as well.
The first time I went dancing after separating from a long-term relationship with someone who spent the whole time making me feel bad for liking to dance, I had a panic attack in the bathroom.
So, I purposely went again a couple weeks later. Three hours before it was time to head out to the venue, I started feeling really anxious again.
So, I kept an eye on it. When I arrived, before I went inside, I sat in my car and paid attention to my breathing for several minutes and just went slow.
Why should someone else's hangups ruin what I love for me? If I want to do those things, I have to *do* them until they become comfortable and fun again. And it's worked. Now dancing feels good again, and so do all the other things I had quit doing for the same reason.
Run towards what you want until it's not scary anymore.