My good friend Andrew Schwartz told me this story a few months ago. I liked it so much that I asked him to write it down and send it to me. Here it is.
I was twenty-two, and I had had so-called “tendonitis” for a year, with stiff, uncomfortable hands and forearms. I had seen numerous doctors and physical therapists, and was advised by all to be very careful and to severely limit my activities and take breaks very regularly � from practicing, typing, or driving a car.
One day I decided that emotions had accumulated around my condition and that I should look at them closely for the purpose of being self-aware. That evening in bed, I began a process of introspection, asking myself what I felt about my condition.
First awareness that came to mind: I feel anger, frustration, annoyance that my activities are so limited and that I am so incapacitated. Next awareness: at some other level, I enjoy having this condition. With it, I give myself permission to go easy on myself. I don’t drive myself like a slave; I afford myself some kindness. I don’t have to deal with the responsibilties of life. Then, I thought: that’s interesting. I’m sure I could be kind to myself even if I didn’t have tendonitis, and I think I am capable of taking responsibility of my life as well.
Then, I wondered what I would feel like emotionally if I didn’t have tendonitis. I fantasized myself walking down a street without tendonitis. I immediately experienced a wave of anxiety, the anxiety saying, “Oh no! I’m responsible for my life!” Then, a second later, like a switch being flipped, the tension and discomfort in my forearms and hands � which had been chronic for a year � suddenly disappeared in a flash. I couldn’t believe my senses. I did a double take, and then tried making a fist. No tension. I tried the other hand. No tension. I waited a few seconds and tried again. No tension.
At this point, I believe the only thought resonating throughout my being was: Holy Fucking Shit. What if this condition was motivated the whole time?
I went to sleep with that thought, somewhat excitedly wondering whether the tension would still be gone when I woke up.
I get chills just thinking back to it. The next day, I woke up, and there was still no tension. Oh my god! It was amazing! That day, I was very naughty in that I played my bass for a whole whopping ten minutes without taking a break . . . and, afterward, there was still no tension. The next day I typed for fifteen minutes . . . scandalous, but there was still no tension. The next day I played the piano for a half hour while slouching. Still no tension.
Over the next few weeks, I gradually began to normalize my life, cautiously testing out new, previously forbidden behaviors. After a few weeks, I quit my daily exercises, which I found boring. The more I normalized, the clearer my hands and arms felt. I’ve been normal since then.