“The truth of the way things are.” I both love and am challenged by this phrase. On one level, it’s a lifeline, drawing me back to the present moment and the truth of my experience, in the moment, here and now. On another, it’s an invitation to reflect more broadly on truths of human existence such as interconnectedness and impermanence, suffering and illness, aging and death. It’s an invitation to uncover the courage, confidence and capacity to be with life as it is, and not as I might wish it to be. The challenge, of course, is when the way things are, are unpleasant.
I’ve been calling on this phrase recently when experiencing emotions and physical sensations that come with tapering a particular medication. At one visit, my physician said, with all sincerity and seriousness, “It’s not easy to come off this medication.” I know what she is talking about! I found myself becoming both overly emotional and talkative. I was stopped in my tracks when my husband commented he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. His words prompted me to check in with myself, listen to my body and discover what was going on underneath all the blabber. I immediately became aware of anxiety, a likely side effect on tapering the medication. I was coping with and avoiding the anxiety by talking up a storm.
I took time out to “rest with the truth of the way things are.” Rather than talk, I took a few slow, deep breaths and brought awareness to the present moment and my body. No wonder I had become a chatty Cathy! This was very unpleasant! My skin felt covered in pins and needles. I could not control these physical sensations that accompanied the anxiety, however, now aware of them, I could control my response to them. I continued to rest my awareness with the rise and fall of my rib cage and abdomen with each breath. This was a neutral, even pleasant sensation. Although it did not relieve the pins and needles initially, it helped stabilize and calm my mind. My doctor’s words, “It’s not easy to come off this medication,” came to me, affirming this type of experience is to be expected. “These are totally normal and transient sensations related to the drug level,” I told myself. “Normal, transient,” I repeated. “Rest with the truth of the way things are,” I said inwardly, bringing a generous acceptance to the experience. I inquired, “What’s happening, here and now?” and observed the range of sensations, moment by moment. I imagined other people, just like me, reducing this medication having similar experiences. I kept my awareness on the calm, steady rhythm of breathing. I was aware of both sensations of breathing and pins and needles. This was the truth of the way things were for me in those moments. My mind grew quiet and calm. Within 10 or 15 minutes the anxiety had slightly lessened and the pins and needles sensation had dulled. They were there but not as intense. I felt a slight warmth in the middle of my chest. When I got up to tidy the kitchen, the unpleasant sensations disappeared altogether. When I went to bed, they returned and I returned to awareness of the breath, the sensations, the reassuring words of my physician and my own comforting self-talk. I eventually fell asleep. In the morning, anxiety was not present, nor the pins and needles, just the sensation of my body on the bed covered by the comforter, resting peacefully with the truth of the way things were in that moment.