THE BROKEN COUNSELLOR - Part 3 What does turning the volume down on pain mean?

You’ve probably heard it said before—you can turn the volume down on your pain. It’s an idea that often gets tossed around in conversations about chronic pain, mindfulness, or mental health. But what does that actually mean?

It suggests something quietly radical: that we might have some influence over how we experience pain—not necessarily the pain itself, but the way it shows up in our awareness.

And that’s worth exploring.

Let me explain it this way.

Have you ever had a friend say something like, “I never noticed how many yellow cars are on the road!” And at that moment, you think, “Huh, I can’t say I’ve seen any.”

But then—something strange happens. Over the next few days, yellow cars seem to be everywhere. Every street, every drive, another yellow car.

So what’s changed?

Your awareness.

Your brain has been gently cued to notice something that was always there—but filtered out as background noise. This is how our minds work: what we give attention to becomes louder.

Now apply that to chronic pain.

The pain is very real. It’s not imagined or all in your head. But our attention to it—our focus—can dial it up or down in intensity. If you're sitting still, scanning your body for every ache and throb, your pain will likely feel more pronounced. Louder. Almost intrusive.

Try to ignore it? Sometimes that works. But often, the more we resist, the more persistent it becomes.

So how do we actually turn the volume down?

There are many tools. Mindfulness, breathwork, grounding, noticing the wind in the trees or birdsong outside your window. These are all gentle practices that shift your focus away from the pain and toward the present moment.

But through my own experience, I’ve found what feels like the Rolls Royce of volume control: Joy.

Yes—joy. Seek it. Create it. Notice it. That spark of aliveness that reminds you you're more than your pain. When you find joy—especially when you immerse yourself in it—pain takes a backseat.

Let me give you an example.

I recently went on a trip to New Zealand. I was chasing something—something I hadn’t quite named yet, but it turned out to be joy. One morning, I found myself at the top of Mount Hutt. The air was crisp, the snow gentle. I tilted my face toward the sky, and in that exact moment, I felt the softest snowfall land on my cheeks. I noticed each tiny flake like it was the only thing in the world.

And do you know what else I noticed?

Nothing.

No pain. No discomfort. No noise. Just that beautiful, all-encompassing moment. I was completely absorbed in joy, and the pain had slipped out of view.

Your moment of joy doesn’t have to be a mountaintop. It can be making a coffee on a cold morning. Holding the warm mug in your hands. Smelling the aroma. Tasting that first slow sip. These small acts of presence and pleasure—they matter. They are your remote control.

The pain is still there, yes. But suddenly, it’s not on full blast. You’ve turned the volume down.

And even a few minutes of that reprieve can be everything.

So today, I gently challenge you: notice what brings you joy. The tiny, quiet, soulful kind. Follow it. Lean into it. Because it’s not about denying pain—it’s about rediscovering life beyond it.