I’ve experienced a mountain range of pain in my life, but all I can truly remember is a map.
Right now, while sitting on my bed in the morning, watching kids play on a trampoline in my neighbor’s garden, I can recall the agony, the despair, the confusion, but not the true and direct depth of how it all felt.
I know I went through hell a couple of times, but that’s it: I know.
And although dark memories can fuck up a sunny day at the beach with ease, they can only take you back momentarily.
It seems that we don’t appreciate that enough (or maybe it’s just me); the fact that we overcome SO MUCH shit, and get to live on, unharmed, still perfectly whole, still full of potential.
I never took that into consideration while being in suffering, because suffering seems to be all there is when you’re in that place.
SO MUCH drama, so little wisdom.
Each moment sells itself as the direct taste of ‘Things To Come And Stay That Way Forever’, but time and time again we find ourselves back in the game, sitting on the floor, blinking our eyes in the light, shaking off the dust, feeling the dissolvement of pain, right after the tornado and the storm have passed.
Breathing life again.
I’ve been through months and months and months of crippling doubts and burning fear and draining melancholy, yet here I am, sitting on my bed.
Watching kids play on a trampoline.
Screaming with joy, still mostly free from the sticky web of rules and ideas that keeps us, grown-ups, from jumping with joy.
Up and down, up and down.
It’s how it goes.
But the suffering is optional.
Because we may never be free FROM the pain, but we can learn to feel freedom around it.
So, so hopeful.
(Photo by @charlesc7, for Unsplash)