The problem with pain is maybe not in the pain itself, but in this irrational idea that it is inflicted upon someone, by in a harmful, immoral act.

So many people try to prove to themselves, more than anyone else that they’re strong; and it is only in the face of true pain that they can look themselves dead in the eyes and come to a striking and humbling realization that perhaps pain has the capacity to win. And yet, to have reassurance from a complete stranger does not provide the comfort and security that they are searching for within their own soul.

As a nurse, I’ve taken care of many patients that have recited phrases of bravery: “I’m really not this much of a wimp, I promise”, “I know it makes no sense, but it really does hurt so bad”, “I’m usually stronger than this, I’m sorry”.  “I’m sorry”… as if their pain is personally afflicting me, putting my life in a space of inconvenience when it is my job to care for the hurting.

When was the moment you realized you are not a sad story? That you’re alive. You’re living. And there’s nothing & everything sad about that. That the pain exists just as much as the wonder. That perhaps it’s okay to let both just be. To not battle or choose or argue or hunt for one or the other sometimes, but to let pain exist in harmony with wonder.  To decide it is not inflicted because of a misdoing as a punishment for being human. That perhaps to feel pain, to hold joy, to witness wonder, and to express heartache is the wholeness of this reality.  The breaking bones of this world could very easily become the building blocks. Offering meaning to something that could be utterly meaningless is both a freeing choice and a responsibility of humankind.

Maybe there’s a striking resemblance in pain and wonder… they have the capacity to knock you down and raise you up.