The Roots of Pain and the Power of Reflection
Emotional pain often feels like an assault on our very being, a visceral signal that something is wrong with us or the world around us. But what if this pain arises not just from the event itself, but from how we identify with it? Consider the possibility that people—whether children, narcissists, or anyone in a prerational state—see their pain as a “first cause,” an origin point that defines their reality. This over-identification, born from an inability to step back and reflect, might drive them to react instinctively, aiming to stop the discomfort through punishment, flight, or other survival mechanisms. The question emerges: is this dynamic universal, and can we transcend it?
Pain as the First Cause
“First cause” refers to an initial, uncaused source or origin that sets a chain of events or existence in motion, often discussed in philosophy and theology as the prime mover behind reality itself. The concept is most famously developed by Aristotle in his “Unmoved Mover” argument (Metaphysics, Book XII) and later adapted by Thomas Aquinas in his “Five Ways” proofs for God’s existence (Summa Theologica, I, Q.2, Art.3).
In early developmental stages or less reflective mindsets, pain can dominate perception. Young children, for instance, lack the cognitive tools to analyze their distress—they simply feel it and respond, whether by crying, hitting, or hiding. Similarly, those who struggle to introspect might experience pain as an all-encompassing truth, unable to separate it from their sense of self. This fusion amplifies the hurt, turning it into a lens through which all else is judged. The consequence? A drive to eliminate it, often by targeting its perceived source—be it through aggression or withdrawal.
Survival Reactions and Their Triggers
When pain becomes the “first cause,” the response depends on the individual’s makeup. Some lash out, seeking to punish or control what they blame for their suffering—a fight response rooted in survival instincts. Others might flee, freeze, or appease, choosing safety over confrontation. These reactions—fight, flight, freeze, or fawn—echo the nervous system’s primal wiring, designed to neutralize threats. Pain, as a signal of danger, triggers these automatic defenses, especially when reflection is absent, leaving little room for deliberation or nuance.
Over-Identification: Pain or Personality?
But what exactly do we over-identify with—the pain itself, or an aspect of our personality we feel is under attack? It could be both. Raw emotional pain, like rejection, might consume us initially—“I am this hurt.” Yet often, it’s tied to a threatened self-concept: pride, worth, or competence. An insult stings not just because it’s unpleasant, but because it challenges who we think we are. This blurring of pain and identity fuels emotional upheaval, as the ego scrambles to protect its narrative.
A Universal Tendency
Even those capable of reflection aren’t immune. Emotional pain hits fast, igniting the brain’s threat system before reason kicks in. Studies show that the amygdala reacts to distress instantly, while the prefrontal cortex—home of reflection—lags behind. For a moment, everyone over-identifies, swept into the tide of feeling. The difference lies in recovery: reflective minds can eventually step back, questioning the pain’s hold, while others remain submerged, reacting from instinct.
Reflectivity as a Safeguard
Reflection, then, acts as a buffer. It’s the ability to pause and observe one’s inner world—“Why does this hurt? Is it me, or the situation?” Without this capacity, pain dictates the script, pulling us into survival mode. With it, we create a gap between stimulus and response, a space to choose rather than react. Neuroscience supports this: mindfulness practices, which hone reflectivity, reduce emotional reactivity by strengthening that pause. Yet under intense stress, even the reflective can falter, their safeguard overwhelmed.
Reason as a Tool for Inner Work
What if we could use reason to process pain more deliberately, turning it inward to depersonalize the blow? Imagine an insult not as a personal attack, but as a reflection of the other’s state—much like Jesus’s words on the cross: “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.” Here, the pain wasn’t fused with his identity; it was reframed as their ignorance, not his failing. Could we, too, direct reason to question our beliefs—“Does this define me?”—and loosen the grip of personalization?
Depersonalizing the Attack
This approach hinges on seeing pain as separate from the self. If someone snaps at us, reason might reveal: “This is their frustration, not my worth.” Cognitive-behavioral therapy echoes this, teaching us to challenge the assumption that external acts determine our value. By stripping pain of its identity-threatening power, we don’t erase it entirely—it still registers—but its intensity dims. The attack becomes an event, not a verdict.
Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) is a structured, goal-oriented form of psychotherapy that focuses on identifying and changing negative thought patterns and behaviors. It operates on the principle that our thoughts, emotions, and actions are interconnected, and by altering distorted cognitions, we can improve emotional well-being and behavior. Through techniques like cognitive reappraisal and exposure, CBT helps individuals develop healthier coping strategies and address a range of psychological issues, from anxiety to depression.
Rewiring Beliefs, Reducing Pain
Working on inner beliefs about identity could take this further. If we hold that our worth isn’t contingent on others’ actions, pain loses its leverage. A traffic slight becomes just that—a moment, not a personal slight. Over time, this reasoning rewires us. Research on cognitive reappraisal shows it lowers negative emotions, and neuroplasticity suggests that repeated practice makes calm responses more natural. The pain might still spark, but it doesn’t ignite a fire.
The Jesus Model: Liberation Through Non-Personalization
Jesus’s example offers a template. By not taking the crucifixion personally, he sidestepped the ego’s usual traps—rage, despair—and found forgiveness instead. This wasn’t just moral high ground; it was psychological freedom. His pain remained, but it didn’t own him. If we adopt this lens—seeing others’ actions as their burden, not ours—reason becomes a shield, deflecting the personal sting and opening space for clarity.
When Others Make It Personal
Yet others might try to make it personal, knowing it cuts deepest. They might weaponize pain to fit their own narratives—stories of blame or control—because that’s what hurts most and aligns with their survival reactions. This is their burden, their cross to bear, not ours. Their choice to personalize reflects their own unprocessed pain or need to dominate, a fight response turned outward. Recognizing this, we can refuse to carry it—reason lets us see it as their struggle, not a truth we must accept.
Practicality and Limits
Can we achieve this? Yes, with effort. Reasoned introspection can shift how we experience pain, but it’s not instant. In the heat of betrayal or grief, the brain’s emotional flood might drown reflection—Jesus’s calm might reflect a mastered state, not a universal one. Still, reasoning after the fact can reframe memories, dulling future triggers. For chronic pain, it might soften the edges, though some traumas/pains defy the ability to fully reason through them, such as those who struggle with complex post traumatic stress disorder (CPTSD).
Reason’s Redemptive Power
This inward turn of reason also finds resonance in the Bible, as seen in Isaiah 1:18 (KJV): “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” By reasoning within ourselves, we confront our own reactivity—our sin of instinctual lashing out or retreating—and mitigate it, cleansing its hold on us. Simultaneously, this process enables us to forgive others’ sins without excusing them, recognizing their actions as their own scarlet stains, not ours to bear, thus freeing us from resentment’s weight.
A Calmer Default
If this practice takes root—using reason to depersonalize and redefine the self—emotional upsets could wane. The initial jolt persists, but the spiral into survival reactions fades. Instead of “This is me under attack,” it’s “This is a moment I can navigate.” Calmness emerges not as forced restraint, but as the mind’s new resting place. It’s a slow transformation, built through consistent inner work.
The Promise of Reasoned Reflection
Pain may be inevitable, but its hold on us isn’t. By blending reflectivity with inward-directed reason, we can untangle our identity from external blows, reduce suffering, and foster resilience—redeeming both ourselves and our view of others. It’s not about denying our humanity, but elevating it—moving from instinct to intention, from reaction to response. In this shift lies the potential for a quieter, steadier, and more forgiving way of being.
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