Processing the Pain

In his song Alive, Eddie Vedder, the vocalist of Pearl Jam, reflected on his personal experience of discovering the man who raised him was not his biological father. He extended that theme into a dark story about a boy who, at the age of thirteen, finds himself in a similar situation - growing up with a grieving mother who sees the biological father in him while he lives with his stepfather. The weight of this uncomfortable projection and revelation of truth eventually leads the boy into an identity crisis in the sequel of the trilogy, Once, and later to imprisonment in Footsteps.

However, when Vedder began performing Alive live, he noticed that fans sang it differently from how he had originally intended. The infamous line, “I am still alive,” became an anthem of survival, perseverance, and resilience, echoing in stadiums and arenas around the world. This shift affected Vedder so deeply that he changed the way he sang and perhaps even the way he related to the song and to his own experience.

Recently, I went through a confusing period of reflection on my journey with a neurodiverse child. As things became clearer, and in many ways better, I found myself feeling worse than I had during the journey itself. The other day, I was scrolling through photographs, messages, texts, and videos from those darkest moments. While revisiting the time, when it felt as if the world was against me, I stumbled across a video on my iPhone: a recording from Pearl Jam’s concert in Hyde Park, where I was singing my heart out with the crowd the very words, “I am still alive!”

As I further read through the messages from those few months, I saw a person pushed to the limits of reason. Arrogant therapists asserting their righteousness, self-serving educators making threats in the most patronizing terms and a complete storm unfolding at my workplace. In the midst of it all, there was also a sweet video of my daughter welcoming my newborn son, taken and sent by my spouse as I went to work straight from the delivery ward, having missed that precious moment at home.

I found myself asking: how did I live through all of this? And why did it take three years before I could look back at those events with a rational mind?

You see, for some of us, in extreme traumatic situtions, the body goes into survival mode, where we do not reflect or process the pain. We are designed by nature to numb the pain when bitten by a wild animal. In that mode, all our energy is directed toward solving the problem, fighting or escaping the danger. We only start processing pain after the struggle ends.

Sometimes it takes years before we can return to the place where the traumatic event took place. Sadly, the longer it takes to relive those events, the heavier the impact is later on. That is why, sometimes, when things finally start getting better, it can feel as though a ton of bricks suddenly falls on you.

Among those messages, I also found a very precious few people who told me: You are still going. You are on the right path.

Among those few voices, one of them was my own singing, “I am still alive.”

If you are going through a difficult time right now, remember this: any dark story can become an inspiring anthem if you surround yourself with the right crowd. Find your tribe and do not be discouraged if, sometimes, your tribe is just you.

If you can, take time to process and reflect on the pain, or it may hit you like a ton of bricks later. But if you cannot do that right now, do not worry - just keep going.

And if you happen to be in Tokyo this April, Pearl Jam will be performing again. Who knows if that would be happening had the crowd not sung Alive differently from how the storyline was set?