Tag Archives: motivation

Brain Fog & the Blahs.

So the post title might sound like an unappealing band, but that’s the state of things at the moment, I’m afraid. Nothing big and horrible, just a whole bunch of small irritations and disappointments compounding to make me feel generally – ugh.

I applied for a job, which was huge for me; I’ve been talking myself out of it for so long that summoning the courage to actually apply took a lot. I sorted referees (terrifying! I hate asking people to vouch for me), bought interview-appropriate clothes (I’ve lost 16kg and all my tailored stuff now looks ridiculous) and updated my resume (a.k.a. engaged in a brief exercise of ‘let’s look at all the ways in which I have failed’). I didn’t hear back, so I’ve been doom-and-glooming about that, even though I rationally know that at least now I’m prepared for the next thing that comes along. I also was recommended for a position a friend is vacating, and was assured that I wouldn’t need to interview or anything, I’d just get it, and haven’t heard back about that either. I feel like, hey, you don’t even know how crap I am yet! Och well.

I’ve just switched to the slow-release of oxycodone, after being on fast-release for a couple of years. The latter worked well, but makes me hyperactive, so at night-time I’d have to choose between sleeping in the next three hours or pain relief. It also wore off too quickly to get by with one dose during uni days when out for several hours at a time, and the facial-but-especially-my-nose itching which has been a constant side-effect for me had worsened to the point of being unbearable lately.

So, I asked for slow-release, and on all those counts it is better – but the pain relief is less effective. And pain relief is kind of the most important thing when it comes to pain medication, right? I’ve been waking through the night feeling like the muscles in my back around my facet joint are burning (new and exciting pain symptoms, yay!), and my gait is worse because I can’t force my leg through the swing as I take a step in the way I need to. And because I am eternally terrified of seeming like a junkie, I will have to put up with it for a month until this script runs out.

Worse, I’m going on a date with my partner tonight, and have been looking forward to it, and now sitting through dinner and a movie is looming, horrible and insurmountable. I am determined not to (for the umpteenth time) get halfway through dinner and have to go home because my back hurts, but I also get really surly and curt when I have to work through pain. Not the best setting for an enjoyable romantic evening.

And last but most importantly for me, oh god the brain fog. It’s been particularly malicious for the past week or so. I’m trying to finalise a research proposal and rewrite then incorporate some theoretical content into a literature review, both of which are fairly highly demanding cognitive tasks (at least for me). My usual coping method during particularly bad bouts is to put the hard stuff on hold and do mindless busywork tasks, but my deadlines are looming and it needs to get done. It’s like mentally walking through very deep mud trying to have ordinary conversations (I felt like the world’s biggest moron in my last supervisor meeting), let alone produce fluent academic writing. It’s massively frustrating to be sitting there, knowing I know the perfect word to describe a complex concept and yet not for the life of me being able to retrieve it.

So, after all that whining, in an attempt to be constructive; help! How do you manage brain fog when you have to work through it? Any strategies that might help? I’m open to anything!

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In, On, Move: A Wellness Series.

Move: I’ve been having motivation issues lately. I know yoga makes me feel better when I do it, but I still have trouble talking myself into doing it every day. I’m a big fan of joyful movement, and the idea that, regardless of health, ability, size, or shape, pretty much everyone can find a way of moving their body that feels joyful to them. I made a decision to give myself a break from yoga and go with what feels good for a little while.

For me, what feels good is dancing. I love nothing more than getting dressed up to go bump and grind with friends in a dim goth or alternative club. Mostly, my fatigue and pain get in the way of such a massive undertaking these days. Since I like making things easy for myself, I figured incorporating dance into my day was a good way to get myself moving without it feeling boring and difficult.

I’ve noticed that there are a few songs on my Spotify list which make me inevitably start moving when I hear them. Whether I’m dancing as I do the dishes or make dinner in the kitchen, doing an improvised bellydancing routine in the bathroom, or just stretching and wiggling to the music in bed on a terrible pain day, I have to move to them.

I’ve started setting a mobile alarm with Rakim by Dead Can Dance on it once or twice a day. That way, I hear it and start dancing. I often replay it a few times because I start enjoying myself. And because it’s in the privacy of my own home, I can let loose and be my uncoordinated and ridiculous self and it doesn’t matter. I’m also a big fan of the album Beats of Ice and Fire by The Boomjacks.

Music on its own can be therapeutic anyway, and singing along helps encourage deep breathing and thus relaxation. So, in the spirit of sharing and increasing my repertoire, give me one song that makes you just have to move. I’d love a complete playlist to work through over the week.

Motivational Conflict and Pain Avoidance.

http://www.bodyinmind.org/a-new-perspective-on-avoidance-behavior-research/

I recently read some research on avoidance of behaviours which cause pain, and the effects of conflicting goals on that avoidance. The gist was that people with pain will engage in behaviours that they know will cause pain if there is motivation to do so because the behaviour will fulfil a goal that is important to them. There was also evidence that the brain helps override the pain avoidance by dulling pain signals, thus facilitating the achievement of the goal.

I found this kind of irritatingly simplistic. Of course people with chronic pain sometimes override their inclinations to avoid pain so that they can do something that is important to them. I’ve done this recently; on a bad back day, I was giving my favourite six-month-old boy a cuddle while walking around. It was uncomfortable but manageable. When my discomfort increased, I went to lay him down on the couch next to his mum, which involved bending over with a few kilograms in my arms; usually a big no-no for me, but I hadn’t really thought it through. Halfway down, my back seized and I was suddenly in intense pain.

My choice was to drop the baby and right myself, or continue in the movement causing me pain. I did not drop the baby (thank goodness!) because the goal of keeping him safe was more important to me than the goal of making the pain subside. In the moment, the decision to not avoid the pain was easy. The aftermath of that movement was five days largely bed-ridden and in agony. I would still make the same decision again.

I find this research, and the line of thinking it implies (that if it is important enough to you, you’ll do [painful thing]), problematic because it omits the consequences from the equation. When medical staff or allied health professionals see chronic pain patients, they see our present pain but not the aftermath of our actions. When I visit a physiotherapist and she asks me to bend in a certain way, the movement may not cause unbearable pain in the moment, but it may mean a week spent in bed because I pushed beyond what was comfortable. The next time I see her, she will say, “I know you can do it, I saw you do it before”, but she isn’t the one helping me get to the toilet for a week in between appointments.

To me, the equation is not:

If [importance of goal] is larger than [immediate pain of action to fulfil goal], then complete action.

It is something more complicated:

If [importance of goal requiring action] is larger than [Expected intensity + duration of pain] x [fear of that pain and consequent disability], then complete action.

It also makes me wonder where novelty comes into it. When [expected intensity + duration of pain] is novel and therefore unknown (such as when engaging in a new or unfamiliar activity), is an individual more or less likely to act? Will that vary by importance?

Personally, when the goal is more important and the potential pain is unknown, I think I am more likely to act than when a goal is important but the potential pain is known (because I can hope that the pain will not be too bad, and I know the action is important). When the goal is less important and the potential pain is unknown, I am less likely to act than when the goal is unimportant and the potential pain is known (because I am not willing to risk large potential pain and disability for a relatively unimportant goal).

How do others deal with these decisions? How do you decide when to override your pain-avoidance behaviours? And does anybody else sometimes just say, “Screw it, this isn’t important and my potential pain is likely to be huge, but I’m going out dancing anyway because I’m tired of being sick” – or is that just me? 🙂