How to Deal with Your Worst Moments, Especially When They Seem to Go On Forever
What makes a “worst moment”? It boils down to pain. Pain can be physical (sensation), emotional (loss, helplessness, despair), or psychological (fear). Much more common than a “worst moment” is the dread of a worst moment. I call this “futurizing.”
When pain is unbearable we pass out (literally black out, go unconscious) or check out (this ranges from not hearing people talking to us to having a psychotic break — losing touch with worldly reality). This level of pain is rare, and this reaction is relatively rare. When you relentlessly worry about and imagine upcoming pain, you’re futurizing. You’re not living – you’re holding your breath, walking on eggshells, and dreading what the future will bring even though it is highly unlikely.
“The worst thing you’ll ever have to face in life is a thought, a sensation, a feeling, a sound, a smell, happening in THIS moment,” says spiritual teacher Jeff Foster.
When you actually take a look at your pain, rather than avoid it or try to deaden it, pain breaks out into thoughts, sensations, feelings, sounds, smells, tastes, sights–anything the five senses have to offer.
Is your pain unbearable right now? If it was, you couldn’t be reading this essay.
Moment by moment, pain, be it physical, emotional, or psychological, is not only bearable, but potentially the moment when your perception shifts and you realize what seemed to be “the worst” was actually the opening you had been waiting for.
Peace comes when you realize that you’ve been making yourself god by taking your fears seriously. Fears that the pain you have now will never stop, fears that you’ll never meet someone and have a family, fears that you’ll never get a good job (or you’ll lose the job you have), fears that you won’t be able to pay the bills, fears that you’ll never realize your potential, fears that your health will fail and you won’t be able to take care of yourself and those you love, fears that you’ll be at the mercy of unkind people, or people who are incompetent, fears that you can’t overcome your addictions. Fears, fears, fears. It’s best to get well-acquainted with your own, so that you can stop futurizing and choose to enter the present moment.
This moment, now, is where peace is.
There’s an opening, a holy instant, where time dissolves into timelessness, and the “you” you thought you were melts away. Here lies freedom. And this moment is available right now. Feel it? There’s no time like the present to recognize what you really are. Turn your attention to Truth. You don’t have to know how. You don’t have to do anything. Just stop playing god, and instead, “… spend a quiet moment opening your mind to His correction, and His love”* now.

You may also find The Challenge of Physical Pain and Disability a useful read.
*A Course in Miracles, Workbook for Students, Lesson 126
Copyright © 2013 Amy Torres. All rights reserved worldwide.
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Q: I think I’m having a little crisis. How does God know what is best for us if he doesn’t even know we are here? How can I have trust/faith with this notion? Another ACIM teacher told me “But the Holy Spirit knows you are here.” What do you think, Amy?
A: It is true that A Course in Miracles explains that God doesn’t know we’re here. Many ACIM students find this scary and even devastating. It begins to make sense, and actually feel comforting and liberating, when we realize that God doesn’t know we’re “here” because we’re not “here” — we’re with Him in Heaven.
“Everyone on earth has formed special relationships, and although this is not so in Heaven, the Holy Spirit knows how to bring a touch of Heaven to them here.” (T-15.V.8:1)
We start on the personal level, looking within the ego self we think we are, working with what seems to be our individual sense of sin and guilt (even if it seems the “other guy” is guilty–not us). Little by little, as we learn to practice forgiveness, and clear the guilt from our personal relationships, we discover there is nothing personal to forgive. First it seems as though we draw our projections back into our personal selves, like a spider devouring its own web. This leads to a miraculous shift in perception and we realize that “I” is one ego mind, all-inclusive of every single brother in the whole wide world.
As a child, I felt terrified at the idea of death. No one had spoken with me about death, and no one close to me had died. Yet there was a 
As I faced my fear of death, spiritual wisdom came my way. Rather than comforting myself reading novels about lonely people, I started reading mystical literature. “If there is any death, it is that of death itself, for life will not die,” said the great Sufi teacher, Hazrat Inayat Khan. Such elegant logic. How can life die?
. If God is Loving, how could He create death? But what did “if God created bodies” mean? Where did bodies come from, if not God?
Australian Aboriginals believe in “dreamtime,” an infinite spiritual belief about the time of creation. The “Dreaming” is eternal and life exists before a person is born and after the individual person ends.
It is a common misinterpretation of the Course to believe that body illness is an indication of giving in to the ego.*
As a yoga teacher, I find this important because it keeps students centered and calm, and keeps the practice balanced as we hold a pose on the right side of the body, and then switch to the left. Many yoga teachers hurry a little and the second side gets short shrift.

Despite impending danger, I felt devoid of fear and quiet of mind. Glancing up, I saw several people headed toward me. I was aware that in the past, I would have felt mortified at being so clumsy, disruptive, and in need of help. My style of perfectionism was to remain unnoticed, and a smooth quick death under the wheels of oncoming traffic would have almost been preferable to being noticed and helped. At this moment, however, their approach produced a warm feeling in me. There was the merest twinkle of embarrassment and then it evaporated as a thought arose, “It’s my turn.”
One face in particular came close to mine and asked, “Are you okay?” “I don’t know,” I replied honestly, rather than stoically brushing him off and finding out later whether I was, indeed, okay. “Would you like me to stay with you a bit?” he offered. “Yes, please,” I replied. The circle of people which had gathered around me melted away as he took over. I had felt their love as they gathered, and I felt their love as they dispersed. Everyone and everything felt caring. The world was at my disposal–I was Loved.
with what was happening exactly as it was. I fell down. I lay there. I judged not. I assigned no interpretation. I held no opinions. Thoughts stopped. And the whole world, in concert, came to my rescue.