Things have been quiet on my end again... I don't know if you experience this too (though I suspect you do, since data shows we react most strongly to weather), but my nerve becomes exceptionally agitated when cold fronts collide with warm ones, and Spring can't decide whether she wants to settle in for good or shake hands with Winter for a little longer.
For a week now I've been taking small doses of a very mild opioid — enough to briefly distance myself from the array of pain sensations in part of my face.
And so I stare at the ceiling. And while staring at the ceiling, as I tend to do, I think about chronic pain, about the damaged trigeminal nerve, about my story and yours, about the mundane things of life.
I read the works of Stoics, neurobiologists. I imagine the workings of my own brain after 12 years with pain. I wonder how much it has physically changed because of pain. Whether some of its structures have become more active from years of alarm, while others have grown tired and quiet. Whether a nervous system that has been battered by pain for this long can still rest without a sense of threat. I train it, I work on it — but is it enough?
I think about the prefrontal cortex — which plays a crucial role in planning, decision-making, anticipating consequences, impulse control, and emotion regulation. According to many authors, it matures around age 25, sometimes a bit later. Which means... my prefrontal cortex may not have been fully formed when the trigeminal nerve was damaged. Pain entered my life at the moment when my adult "self" was still being built.
And maybe that's exactly why it left such a deep mark? Or maybe the cause is much more physical and simple... Maybe adhesions and scarring near the nerve still maintain the pain, preventing the nervous system from truly calming down? Maybe it's not only pain memory but ongoing irritation of the nerve itself?
Sometimes when I think about this, my wings droop. The same wings that wanted me to live boldly and fully.
Then I return to the Stoics and their simple, powerful thoughts. To the idea that not everything depends on me, but how I respond to what happens always depends on me. That I don't have full control over pain, weather, the body's biochemistry, or the history that's already occurred. But I do have influence over how I care for myself today. How I guide my own mind through another day.
And then I catch a relative equilibrium. I wait for brain biochemistry to calm enough to feel wind beneath my wings again and live despite the pain.
Neuroplasticity: the brain is not concrete
Because my brain — and your brain — is not concrete. It's not a script written once and forever. It is a living, dynamic structure that learns, rebuilds, and responds throughout life. We call this neuroplasticity.
And that's exactly what I've been reading about a lot lately. More and more research shows that even a brain exhausted by stress, anxiety, or chronic pain still retains the capacity for change. Not always the spectacular kind from motivational internet slogans.
Sometimes these are subtle, slow, almost invisible changes. But real ones.
Scientists describe how regular practices of mindfulness, meditation, breathwork, or conscious attention-directing can influence brain areas responsible for emotions, tension, and pain perception. They write about the prefrontal cortex helping regain the steering wheel. About the cingulate cortex participating in suffering regulation. About the amygdala learning that not every signal means catastrophe.
It sounds scientific, but the meaning is deeply human. The nervous system can be trained. Just as it spent years learning alarm, it can also learn safety. Just as it memorized tension, it can memorize relief. Just as it got used to worst-case scenarios, it can step by step become familiar with silence.
Why this matters for chronic pain
With chronic pain, it's worth remembering that pain is not just tissue, a nerve, an adhesion, or a scar. It is also an entire system of stimulus interpretation, memories, tension, and defensive reactions. Sometimes the problem sits more in the structure, sometimes more in the nervous system, and most often one blends with the other. Biology and psyche dance exceptionally close here — something that, unfortunately, is still not discussed enough.
That's why I no longer treat mental work as an "add-on" but as an essential part of treatment with a real place in the entire healing process. It doesn't replace diagnostics, contact with physicians, or further searching for pain causes — but it can accompany and complement everything happening on the medical level. It's not a path instead of other methods, but a path alongside them.
A few calm breaths. A moment of mindfulness. Noticing that right now, nothing is chasing me. Catching rays of sun on the wall. A conversation with someone kind. A walk when the body allows it. Letting go of the fight in those places where fighting only drains energy. All of this may seem small and unremarkable, but the brain responds exceptionally well to repetition.
It is precisely from such daily gestures, small moments, and simple experiences that it can build new pathways.
This is not about "thinking positive"
No, this is not a story about how you just need to "think positively." That would be too simple and at times cruel — though a positive approach to life does carry real power. This is rather a story about how even in a difficult body, you can reclaim a little influence. That between stimulus and response, space still exists. That even if life hurts, it doesn't have to hurt exclusively.
Maybe today or tomorrow I won't repair my entire nervous system. Maybe I won't solve the mystery of the trigeminal nerve or shed twelve years of experiences. But I can give my brain the signal that alongside suffering there is also calm, alongside constant battle there is room for rest, and beyond mere survival, life is still waiting.
I know that when I feel the weight of this disease most heavily, it's a signal that it's time to stop, to slow down. To devote more time to myself, to relationships, and to those small pleasures that restore balance.
I'll be back soon. In my notebooks, started texts are already waiting — about supplements supporting the nervous system, about a virus that can devastate the trigeminal nerve, about painful optic neuritis, some lighter reflections on discipline, and much more.
In the meantime, I'm plugging into my own charger — called a moment for myself. But before I do, I'd like to ask you... Do you also react this strongly to weather? My loved ones have noticed that I'm a walking weather forecast.
Stress no longer triggers my nerve as strongly, hormonal changes don't amplify pain either — but weather... for me it's the worst. And... speaking... though after three surgeries, that shouldn't surprise me, which is why sometimes I simply don't talk. How about you? Do you have typical "textbook" triggers, or maybe something unexpected?
Take care, stay pain-free, and remember — you are not alone.
Reference:
Neurobiological Changes Induced by Mindfulness and Meditation: A Systematic Review — A. Calderone, D. Latella, F. Impellizzeri, P. de Pasquale, F. Famà, A. Quartarone, R. S. Calabrò
Natalia — since 2014 I've been living with trigeminal nerve pain. I write in plain language, based on reliable sources and personal experience. Read my story →
Frequently Asked Questions
What is trigeminal neuralgia?
Trigeminal neuralgia is a chronic facial pain condition. It manifests as sudden, severe, usually one-sided pain attacks — often described as an electric shock. A single attack typically lasts from a few seconds to about two minutes.
Does alpha-lipoic acid (ALA) help with neuropathy?
Some people use ALA as a supportive supplement, but evidence is limited and comes mainly from studies on diabetic neuropathy. It is considered a supplement, not a proven therapy. Always consult your doctor.
Which doctor should I see for facial pain?
First, see a neurologist. If surgery is being considered, a neurosurgeon. If a dental cause is suspected, it is also worth ruling it out with a dentist.
Can trigeminal neuralgia be cured?
In many people, pain can be effectively controlled with medications or procedures, and MVD provides the most durable results in eligible patients. The course varies — with periods of remission and relapse. Decisions are made together with your doctor.
Can chronic pain affect memory and concentration?
Yes. Research shows that chronic pain, including trigeminal neuralgia, can lead to measurable changes in brain function — affecting memory, attention, processing speed, and executive function. This is sometimes called 'brain fog' and has a real neurobiological basis.
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