Pain

You know, I take for granted the luxury I have of rarely being pained. Sure, I’m  in emotional pain every other week, it seems. But it’s still so much better than those few instances I’ve been hurt. Like, hurt. Not some frickin splinter or a bruised arm, but horrible, teeth-grinding, fist-clenching agony. Even tonight, when I was asking God why I had a bitch of a uterus (ahem, menstrual cramps and water-retaining thighs), it still didn’t scrape the surface of the pain I will have to endure later. I want to have children. I also want to travel and explore and scuba dive and do all these awesome things with my life. Surely there will be some physical pain involved.

People often liken emotional turmoil to physical pain. And as I’ve never been a ‘happy’ person, I can understand. When my grandmother died, I cried for hours. 8 months later, I had a panic attack about her death—it took that long to realize she was gone. I know even now I would endure a lot of pain if it meant she had lived. That was almost 6 years ago. And the weirdest thing was that I didn’t even know her that well. I met her when I was 9. I visited her maybe twice a year, and talked to her on the phone. But that was it. She wasn’t even a great person—she was a scarred individual who got really messed up and became nicer in her old age.

Physical pain is a tricky thing. When you experience it, that’s all you think about. When it’s gone, it’s like it never happened. You’re fine. You always were. Not so with emotional agony. It stays with you forever. You can’t let go of it like a bad scrape or a car accident. This is a great quote by Maya Angelou:

I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel. — Maya Angelou 

I guess what I’m trying to say is that you encounter pain. Maybe it’s emotional, maybe physical. Find your type of relief. Bless. 

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