The Struggle of Self-Touch: Navigating Embodiment and Pain
I feel like I avoid touching my own body, particularly when I'm in pain. I avoid massaging myself or doing anything like that. And then, if I do manage to get myself to massage myself, I can't help but be overwhelmed by the feeling like I'm doing it wrong or what I'm doing is not enough or not effective. And so, essentially, I end up paralyzed to attend to my body in any way, and so then I end up dealing with forms of chronic pain that I just try to ignore.
ChatGPT:That makes a lot of sense, especially given your history of depersonalization, struggle with embodiment, and feeling disconnected from your body. It sounds like there’s a fundamental resistance to engaging with your body on a direct, physical level—like an invisible wall between you and yourself. And when you do push through, perfectionism or doubt steps in to undermine it.
I wonder if part of this comes from a belief that you should know how to do it naturally, or that touch should be inherently soothing, and when it’s not, it reinforces the disconnect instead of helping bridge it. It also makes sense that ignoring pain would become the default if engaging with it only leads to feelings of failure.
Maybe there’s a way to approach this where effectiveness isn’t the goal, at least not right away. What if instead of trying to relieve pain, the goal was just contact? Like, "Can I just be in touch with myself, without pressure to fix anything?" Maybe even exploring different types of touch—like light brushing, pressing, or holding rather than massaging—could be a way to get around the mental resistance.
Or, you could externalize it: imagine that Myrrhyopolis has a Department of Sapiens Health & Services (David Attenborough & Gabor Maté, right?) and their job is simply to check in on you. Not to fix you, but just to acknowledge you. You could even pretend that someone else is massaging you, or that you’re tending to someone else’s pain—since sometimes it’s easier to care for others than for ourselves.
Can imagining I am being massaged actually effect my pain?
Yes, imagining that you are being massaged can have real effects on your pain. The brain processes imagined experiences in ways that can be surprisingly similar to real ones, especially when it comes to touch and body awareness. Here’s how it can work:
Neural Activation: When you vividly imagine being touched or massaged, your brain can activate some of the same pathways that would be engaged if you were actually receiving a massage. This can help reduce pain perception by triggering relaxation responses and decreasing stress-related tension.
Placebo & Expectation Effect: If you expect that a massage—real or imagined—will provide relief, your brain can release endorphins and other pain-reducing chemicals, making the imagined experience genuinely beneficial.
Body Awareness & Relaxation: Even if you struggle with embodiment, visualization can help you gradually build a connection with your body in a way that feels safer than direct touch. It can also help reduce muscle guarding (when your body unconsciously tenses up in response to pain).
Nervous System Regulation: Pain is heavily influenced by the nervous system. If imagining touch helps shift you into a parasympathetic (rest-and-digest) state instead of a sympathetic (fight-or-flight) one, it can lead to actual relief.
How to Try It
If direct touch feels too loaded, you could:
Imagine a trusted person massaging you—someone who brings comfort, whether real, fictional, or even a symbolic figure.
Imagine an inanimate but soothing force—like warm sunlight pressing into tense areas, or water washing over and relaxing muscles.
Engage in ‘phantom touch’—hovering your hand over a painful area and just noticing the sensation, without direct contact.
If you feel resistance to this, it might be worth exploring whether the idea of receiving care—even from yourself—feels difficult, which could be another layer in why touch is so hard for you.
When I have muscle pain, like a tight muscle in my neck or something, that becomes all-consuming, I feel bombarded by these thoughts of mockery about aging, and people on TV throwing out their backs, and it being funny that people struggle with pain as they get older, and that that's something to make fun of, and I feel that whenever I feel injured, it just doesn't add a whole lot. What do I do?
It sounds like pain triggers a flood of intrusive thoughts—ones that are dismissive, mocking, and maybe even belittling. Almost like there’s a part of you that has absorbed cultural messaging that aging and physical struggle are pathetic or comedic rather than valid experiences. And then, instead of just dealing with the pain, you’re also dealing with an internalized voice that belittles you for even having it.
That’s a brutal double bind. You can’t just have pain; you also have to feel judged for it.
What Can You Do?
Recognize That the Mockery Is Not You
That voice isn’t your true perspective—it’s an absorbed societal script. You can even mentally label it as such:“Oh, there’s that sitcom voice again.”
“This isn’t my real opinion; it’s just a rerun from TV culture.”
“Mockery isn’t insight.”
Just noticing that you don’t actually believe pain is ridiculous can weaken the power of those thoughts.
Reclaim the Reality of Pain
You can counteract the cultural script with a different one:"Pain is real, and bodies are real."
"Mocking pain doesn’t make it go away, but acknowledging it might."
"My body isn’t a joke. It’s doing its best."
Even if those statements feel fake at first, they might help deprogram some of the automatic ridicule.
Shift From Judgment to Practical Care
When the mocking thoughts hit, you can redirect your focus to practical care, something that actually responds to the pain instead of getting caught in the shame loop. That could mean:Stretching or gently moving the painful area.
Applying heat or ice.
Trying the imagined massage technique.
Even just taking a few breaths and saying, “Okay, what would help right now?”
This keeps you grounded in action instead of drowning in the intrusive noise.
Experiment With a Playful Response
Since humor is involved in the intrusive thoughts, you might be able to use it to disarm them. Like:"Okay, fine, I’m one of those old people now. Get me my orthopedic shoes and fiber supplements."
"Oh no, my mortal body is fragile—who could have predicted this?"
"Yes, TV, people do get injured. Groundbreaking insight."
If you make fun of the script instead of yourself, it might take some of the sting out of it.
Bigger Picture
It might also be worth exploring why this specific type of mockery is so sticky for you. Were there moments growing up where struggling or being vulnerable was met with dismissal? Was physical pain treated as weakness? If so, this might not be about aging at all—it could be about an old survival strategy kicking in whenever you’re in a vulnerable state.
