Right before I left Japan, one of my best friends asked: If Japan was a chapter in the book of your life, what would be its title?

The answer was obvious: Phoenix Era.

Living in Japan for two and a half years surpassed my wildest dreams. But something happened which eclipses the travel, the exploration, even the friendships I made.

I began to heal from chronic pain. Maybe I had to be in Japan for the stars to align. Perhaps they would have no matter where I was, and it was just this moment in time. Who knows? It doesn’t matter, because one thing’s for sure: I’m feeling better than I have since I was twenty-one.

Life is good.

“You’re too young to have back pain.”

I’ve dealt with chronic back and hip pain for seven years, believing my body was broken in a way I couldn’t understand. Physical therapists tried with what knowledge they had, but their expertise helped little.

“You’re too young to have back pain,” was something I heard frequently.

Thanks, but that doesn’t help, I’d think to myself, their comments only perpetuating the fear, the worry, the shame. I tried chiropractors and acupuncture and obscure modalities. Nothing moved the scale.

I underwent multiple MRIs, which showed nothing particularly unusual. So I just dealt with it and suffered in silence. That is, until nine months ago.

I had a breakthrough, and instead of trying to heal physically like I’d been doing unsuccessfully for years, I began working on my inner landscape.

Like a phoenix engulfed in flame, I’ve been burning away the parts of me associated with chronic pain — the fear, the coping mechanisms, the bottling up of emotions — to be reborn from the ashes.

This is happening for me, not to me

Until my breakthrough last May, not a day passed where I didn’t feel some pain. I’d often break down crying on the floor after a bad flare-up, only to piece myself together and hobble on.

If you met me, you probably wouldn’t guess I was hurting. I was still fit, doing whatever I could to exercise through the pain. I traveled, had amazing adventures with friends, laughed a lot, and as I’ve been told, always seemed happy.

It wasn’t fake. I’s who I am, a joyful person in love with life.

But underneath I was suppressing shame and anger that my body was broken, exacerbating my genuine fear that there was nothing I could do about it besides accept that it would only get worse as I got older.

It felt like I tried everything to heal. Because I could find no answers, I put my trust in a higher power.

This has to be for a reason, I’d think. I can’t understand it, but I will never lose faith that this is happening for me, not to me.

And so I carried on, because besides the pain my twenties were epic. I continue to have so much to be grateful for. I figured I could smile, grit my teeth and endure. If this was my lot in life, so be it. I wouldn’t let it break me. I wouldn’t become resentful. I wouldn’t give in.

Hitting rock bottom

But nine months ago I hit an all-time low. Right as I was moving From Osaka to Tokyo, I had several flare-ups one after the other, barely able to stand up straight or sit in a chair without searing pain for about a month. I was fucking done. I couldn’t do it anymore. Something had to change.

When I asked for help, a miracle came.

By a heartfelt sequence of fateful events, I gained a new mentor who introduced me to the world of mindbody healing, as she was proof that one could heal from chronic pain using an emotional approach rather than a physical one.

Once I stepped through the door, the floodgates blew open. I gained another mentor, and another, and another, until I was a young Padawan with a handful of Obi-Wan Kenobi level masters to look up to, a Mount Olympus of incredible human beings who’ve helped me become the man that I am.

I embarked on a quest that I call my spiritual odyssey, starting with the books of Dr. John Sarno, the Master Yoda of mindbody healing who really pioneered this field. First, one must qualify themself and make sure the pain is not an acute injury or illness.

Once I did that, I’d throw out everything that told my brain my body was broken: foam rollers, lumbar supports, bands and massage balls, etc. Following Dr. Sarno’s advice, I’d face my fears and get back to everything I was doing before the chronic pain.

I wasn’t broken! I can’t express how incomprehensible this seemed. Yet the more I studied the mindbody approach and did the inner work, the more obvious it became.

I was the poster boy for TMS (the mindbody syndrome), a worrier, overconscientious, people-pleaser, perfectionist, self critical, always trying to solve the problem. These are the qualities that lead to chronic pain, traits that may seem positive on the surface, but ones that create tension underneath.

Because of this tension, I’d need to heal my nervous system, not my back. My back was (is) fine. My unconscious become so fragile that every time it would get scared, it would send out pain signals (emotion) in my body — a malfunction — making me think the pain was structural.

It makes sense, right? Physical pain, physical cure. But no. That’s what had me and countless individuals stuck in pain. There’s so much we don’t understand about the mind, brain, and body interconnection. It’s absolutely astounding.

Therapy saved my life

I began therapy in Tokyo to try to understand why I developed these tendencies in the first place.

It was all meant to be. My therapist, an expat from California funny enough, became a mentor and a good friend. Every week, I’d meet him at his office and we’d unpack my story. Most of the time he would just let me talk.

I cried quite a bit discussing my childhood and what I’m going through now. After every session I would walk back to the train station at dusk, my soul at peace and my heart more clear. One of the most beautiful things he showed me is to honor my vulnerability.

Instead of asking why does this hurt, why is this happening? How do I get better?

He taught me to surrender. Honor what it means to be a human being — imperfect, beautiful in all our aches, our flaws, our questioning. There is no one hundred percent. Rather than striving for perfection, my practice is to surrender to what is.

Become okay with what you think is not okay

My therapist has been instrumental in my growth as a human being, but where I’ve learned the most regarding healing chronic pain is from Jim Prussack, a mindbody coach based in San Diego.

Over the past nine months I’ve had several sessions with him, but what’s helped the most has been watching his YouTube videos and listening to his audio recordings daily.

I’m still very much on the journey, but it’s working. There are many books that get into the nitty-gritty of mindbody healing which I’ll link at the bottom of this article.

I’ve read many of them and I will continue to share about this topic, but if I can leave you with just one idea to ponder, it would be this:

You become okay when you can be okay with what you think is not okay.

This is the essence of healing, and, really, a wonderful life. What does it mean? Let’s look at this example. A year ago before I was aware of TMS, if I felt pain when on a walk, my mind would spiral.

Fuck. I’d think. Why is this happening? Is a flare-up coming on? Why, why, why did this happen? Yada yada.

Now that I know the pain is just a harmless malfunction in the brain, when I feel a sensation in my back or hips I think to myself, ah, there it is! TMS. It’s just an emotion. Just conditioning. There is nothing wrong with your body, Vinny. Isn’t that amazing?

To heal, I must show my brain that I’m safe, secure, and calm. I’m unlearning the pain by re-wiring my brain, creating new neural networks that override years of fear, worry, and anxiety.

It’s been one hell of a journey. It isn’t easy to be joyful and at peace when I feel pain. It’s a continual practice, but I’m telling you, it works.

Can you handle it?

A year ago, if I were to feel how I do now, I would have been in disbelief. I rarely have the dull, nagging pain in my back that I dealt with practically every day throughout my twenties.

I’ve had flare-ups during my spiritual odyssey, but they don’t scare me like they used to and are occurring less and less.

I’m back to doing everything that I want to physically, playing basketball, running long distances, and training in the gym.

More than just healing my body, what I’m learning is helping me deal with stress, pain, and uncomfortable situations in a simple and beautiful way.

Michael Singer, author of The Surrender Experiment and The Untethered Soul, has been another mentor on my spiritual journey, my Qui-Gon Jinn, to really drive home this Star Wars metaphor.

Singer asks in one of his online lectures, Can you handle it? To handle it means to not have to react. To not have to fix. To just sit with whatever it is we’re experiencing. That is to handle it.

To heal, one must simply be able to handle the sensations, whatever they may be, without trying to fix them. That is the Taoist practice of wu-wei, non-action.

“Experience it or be bothered by it, that is the spiritual path,” says Singer.

Somebody cuts you off while driving. You get into a fight with your child. Your boss suddenly fires you. A pain comes on in your shoulder. Can you be okay with what you think is not okay? Of course, attend to the situation.

But if you can be okay with what you think is not okay over and over while moving through life, you will become okay at a fundamental level. It will make your experiences that much richer.

Surrender

No, I’m not a guru sitting on a mountaintop in perfect stillness. I still react, get very frustrated, and slip back into my old ways. But I’m changing.

I’m truly learning to be okay with whatever happens, while showing myself kindness, compassion, and respect, essential ingredients of healing.

It’s been emotional. I’ve gone through a lot with all this shit. But I wouldn’t trade what I’ve endured for anything. Pain is part of life, necessary to make us all that we can be.

This world, this body, this life is so beyond what we can comprehend. I had to experience those years of pain, as they made me a better writer, a more empathetic and humble human being, a fighter. But I’m done fighting.

I surrender.

If you’re dealing with chronic pain, reach out, and I’d love to help in any way I can. You’re not alone.

You can find links below to learn from the individuals I’ve mentioned, as well as others who have helped me tremendously.

Healing Back Pain: The Mind-body Connection, by Dr. John Sarno

Jim Prussack, the Pain PT

Michael Singer, Mastering the Art of Always Being Okay Lecture

The Great Pain Deception, by Steven Ozanich

The Dare to Dream Podcast: Insights Into Chronic Pain, Depression, and Mind-Body Healing with Dr. Peter Zafirides MD

Unlearn Your Pain, by Dr. Howard Schubiner

Howard Schubiner: Breakthrough With Healing Chronic Pain lecture