Outcome Independent

Well, I guess I’m outcome independent now.

Not sure how I feel about that.

In his book, The Way Out, Alan Gordon promotes the ideal of becoming outcome independent (not emotionally attached to any specific outcome) in our attitude toward our pain. In the process of changing our relationship with our pain, this idea might be one of the hardest to achieve. Of course, we desperately want our pain to decrease as a result of our faithful body work. That makes perfect sense. That is why we picked up his book, which in the subtitle claims to be a “Revolutionary Scientifically Proven Approach.” Revolutionary sounds great! Gordon teaches the reader to learn somatic tracking, a way of observing pain without trying to change it. Becoming curious about our pain, putting accurate adjectives around it, locating it, observing if the pain changes intensity or position. These are all part of somatic tracking, which we should engage in without worrying about changing or eliminating the pain. Just observe. No judgements. No worries about where the pain came from or how long it will stay. Just track it. The act of becoming curious about our pain and observing it impartially helps to decrease our fear. Pain generates fear and locks us in an endless cycle. Somatic tracking with outcome independence — not trying to make the pain go away, remaining indifferent — is one of the skills we can learn to disrupt that cycle.[i]

This skill has definitely helped me. I’ve even expanded the idea to help me look at problematic or worrying situations in life. What if I think about the situation without judgement? Just observe. Watch. Find words to describe. Two days later, I can look at the same situation and, without trying to change it, I can take a close look again. Have things shifted? Learning to observe pain or a frustrating situation without trying to figure out how to solve it or change it is an interesting exercise in self-control. Too often we want things to change our way. We strive, overwork, and even manipulate situations or people to achieve our desired outcome.

I recently saw a new physical therapist. I’ve been to many therapists and practitioners multiple times, all the while faithfully trying to figure out what to do to make my leg better. My knee replacement was over three years ago now, and the results have been far from satisfying. Why? What did I do wrong? Did the therapists guide me wrongly? Why can’t I straighten my knee or weight bear? Why am I so stiff? (If I run the whole litany of questions, I may have the pleasure of you joining me in my strong pain-fear cycle!). Emotions run high around this topic.

I like this new therapist. She listened to me and took time to understand my complicated situation. And she was honest.

Ouch.

My therapist didn’t hold back the truth. Because of having three operations in the knee, I have a high amount of scar tissue and chronic inflammation. My knee has been warm since the surgery and my range of motion has decreased. This therapist will work with me. Our goal will not be improvement, per se, but will be maintenance. She said I might have small increases in range of motion. She will help me manage my pain. Though she will be alongside me this season, we both understand that this job will be mine for the rest of my life. Prolonged inactivity would slowly cause contractures, which would further limit my motion and increase my pain. She encouraged me to use two walking sticks as much as possible. I’m still having trouble accepting that one. It is not just the shame of it or the obvious weakness on display. It is so darn frustrating not being able to carry things.

I’m working on balancing the need for acceptance with the false hope that something will change me back to normal. To avoid falling into a victim mindset, I feel the need to accept where I’m at and find liberation here . . . in this space . . . in this body.

I guess I’m outcome independent. When I worked so hard to ensure that my leg would get back to normal, I was too emotionally involved. I experienced failure on a regular basis. Now, I can stop blaming myself for not getting better or stronger. I can stop being obsessive about trying to exercise or stretch enough to regain what has been lost. I can also stop having unrealistic hopes that somehow something or someone will make me better with some magic pill or procedure. I’m here. This is how I am. It is okay. By letting go of my perceived failures, I’m outcome independent about the future. I’m no longer going to try to force my own will on my body or force my future to happen in unrealistic ways.

Yet, looking at my situation with curiosity and without trying to get better proves very hard. Reality finds me still working very diligently to change things in my body even though I understand my knee will not become much more functional than it currently is. I’m still holding on to a hope that things might change — if I do enough. Or if I find the right doctor, who knows the right trick, or has the right medicine. It seems like I’m letting go of hope for my future if I let go of trying to heal my body and walk normally.

To counter this natural tendency, I find it helps to look for changes. Though my walking or weight bearing has not improved, after doing the exercises my therapist taught me, my legs are not as uncomfortable when laying with them straight and long in bed. At the therapist’s recommendation, I’m re-engaging my hamstrings, which I kind of forgot about. It is good to use them as much as I can . . . even if it doesn’t really change my walking. I need to recover my occupational therapy brain and find ways to carry out my activities of daily living more efficiently. There are ways to make changes, make life easier, and live more fully, even if my legs don’t change.

And then God challenges me to not just be curious, but to take it further. Can I be filled with wonder? Can I rise to this challenge? “Okay, Jesus. Here I am. My body is not as functional as I want it to be, and I slip into self-pity rather often. I feel like I’m at a low point right now. What can you do with this situation? I’m outcome independent. I’ve let go of my own plans. Anything you do in or through me is good with me.”

I wonder how old Isaiah was when he got his call (Isaiah 6:8). Here, in the middle of my life and in the middle of some good solid challenges, I feel a lot more aware of how much I need God. I’m willing for God to use me. That is what I live for, yet I thoroughly understand how inadequate I am; I understand more deeply than when I was a young adult. When we can say, “Here I am” at this later point in life, I feel like we up the ante for God (as if we could do that!). “We know you are good at using young people who have energy and enthusiasm. We know you call them out of darkness and use them to shine your light. How about me? Can you still use me?!” Or just maybe God smiles down on us. Appreciating our willingness, he offers the challenge back: Do we really think that he cannot do abundantly more than anything we could dare ask or even imagine? (Eph. 3:20)

We can be outcome independent when we work with Jesus.

Update: I wrote this article in November of 2023 while seriously working on this idea of acceptance of my undesirable physical situation. Since then, I’ve grown in my ability to manage my pain, and I’m living at a level of physical comfort which I haven’t experienced for over 8-10 years. It feels amazing to not be dominated by pain. Yes, I’m still disabled, and my standing and walking are limited. That said, I’m incredibly grateful to not have the heavy cloud of self-pity and despair hovering so close. The clear sky (inside my brain) is brilliant blue, and the sun is shining. I may not be able to physically hike steep mountain paths this side of heaven, but there are other adventures ahead of me!

Let’s not underestimate the power of acceptance and outcome independence.

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[i] Alan Gordon, The Way Out, 78.

References:

Gordon, Alan. 2021. The Way Out: A Revolutionary Scientifically Proven Approach to Healing Chronic Pain. Avery.