The First Flinch of Emotional Pain

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Last year I found out that my mom has terminal cancer.

One day she was traveling the world with her best friend, my dad. She was a little tired and took a little extra time to rest each afternoon.

The next day, at our weekly breakfast date, she couldn’t remember the word for coffee. “I want…that yummy stuff. That black stuff,” she said.

“Mom, do you mean coffee?” I asked her. Boy, she must really be tired out from her trip.

A visit to the doctor led to brain surgery to remove a tumor from her brain, and two weeks later my dad and mom, and my sister-in-law and I found ourselves sitting with a cancer team, learning terms like “standard of care” and “hematology clinic.”

We sat for three hours in that little room as one doctor after another filed through and told us how they would help mom. I hadn’t eaten. I lost my appetite.

I felt numb. And weak. Confused. …And empty.

I sat down on the couch when I got home and got on a silly game on my phone and stayed there for days. The game didn’t matter, of course. My family mattered. They loved me, and wanted to hear how I was feeling but I couldn’t let them in, at least not at first.

I was afraid of the panic that nudged around my edges.

I felt like the strain of my mom’s diagnosis was pushing me to my limit. I felt like one tiny thing could push me over the edge to where I could never recover.

Have you ever felt that kind of pain? Have you ever felt an emotional pain that became physical? Have you ever wondered if you would fall over the edge?

That feeling – the loss of control and desperation that comes when something terrible happens – is what I call the first flinch of emotional pain.

Here are some suggestions for walking through that valley …and making it out the other side, based on what I’ve learned through my experiences.

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The Rights and Wrongs of Walking Through Emotional Pain

❌Wrong: Tell yourself that you’re responding badly.

✔️Right: Let your body and your mind handle that first flinch of pain.

When I was processing through my mom’s diagnosis, especially in those first few days, I kept wondering if I should be handling the news with more spiritual maturity. Honestly, I didn’t want to talk to God about it right away. Somehow that felt like an added burden that would push my emotional limits to their breaking point.

But that’s okay! An initial reaction to emotional pain will likely be visceral, maybe not spiritual.

Think about how you would respond if you were sitting in the stands at a baseball game and a fly ball came at 40 mph straight towards you. If you didn’t see it coming until the very last second, what would you do? Would you relax and trust God, knowing that he is good and in control? No. You might believe that’s true, and you might believe in the goodness of God, but when that ball is flying toward your nose, you flinch. It’s just your natural response.

In the first flinch of emotional pain you will have a natural response to handle the stress. Your response will be unique to you – probably different from how the others around you are responding.

❌Wrong: Give yourself a time limit for your emotional recovery.

✔️Right: Evaluate the state of your soul continually.

Instead of asking “Am I better yet?” ask yourself “How am I doing today?” Is it a good day to see a friend? Is it a good day to go to Walmart? Is it a good day to let a friend bring you dinner? You will have ups and downs, and they won’t always follow a reasonable pattern, and that’s okay.

❌Wrong: Avoid God because you don’t know what to say.

✔️Right: Sit quietly with God. Or yell. Or cry. Use words if necessary.

I remember sitting on my couch after my mom’s diagnosis and I was finally ready to take my feelings to God. But I had nothing to say.

God, I said. God. That’s as far as I got that day. But I knew he was there with me. For me, and for my mom.

My teen boys try to be so independent of me. I know when they are struggling, and I want to help. The moments that they come to me, needy and ready to just sit with me in their pain, I am pleased to have been invited into their reality. They don’t need the right words; and they certainly don’t need to have the answers. I just want to love them.

Maybe that’s something like how God feels when we sit with him in our pain.

Bring It Home

Can you think of a time of emotional difficulty? What was your first flinch response? (To learn more about typical first flinch responses, see this post.)
Do you have a tendency to be a harsh critic of your emotional responses? What if your painful situation made God as sad as it makes you? Would it help to realize that he’s not a bland, benign spirit in the sky, but a protective, loving father, who would rather die than watch you suffer?

{PS. About My Mom…}

Mom was initially told that she would probably have one year left to live. Today marks almost 19 months since that day at breakfast. Mom is doing very well! She visits with friends often, has her playful sense of humor, and still can’t ever remember the word for coffee. Her cancer has been back for five months. We would appreciate your prayers for her and for my Dad as well.