About Pain

 I wrote this years ago, before I learned that there's still more levels of pain a person could endure. But, the words are still as true today as they were then. 

 ...Let’s talk about pain, shall we? Not the physical one, although that is an interesting topic in and of itself (thanks to my father, I inherited a rather startling pain tolerance level, one that baffles doctors...ooooh. There’s an analogy in this one, too; I’ll get to that another time).

Let’s talk about the pain of walking through scary, hard, dark, and troubling times. 

But. But, let’s talk about our responses to our loved ones walking through them. Not us. Others.

These last few months...okay, more than a few...have been scary. Hard. Really, really hard. One of my favorite people, every time I’m truly honest with her about how much has been going on, her response has been a life-giving, “That’s a LOT.” 

Dear friend. Thank you. It has been a lot. More than this homegirl has wanted to handle. More than she could handle, if she were honest. Many, many nights, I’ve lain in bed, silently screaming about situations, timelines, loneliness, illnesses, loss...and how in the world am I to shoulder more?

But, here’s the thing. That dear friend? The one who just said, “That’s a LOT,” with compassion? That’s all she said. She didn’t continue down the rabbit hole, trying to make me feel better. There was no bolstering of my spirits with platitudes. No “encouragement” about how “God makes all things work for good in His timing,” or “He won’t give you more than you can handle” (which we all know is BS) or “Imagine the glory that is waiting for you…” or (my FAVORITE...that’s in sarcasm font, Beloveds) “I can’t wait to hear what you’ve learned/your testimony when this is through.”

Let me scream into a pillow for a moment...hold on.

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My circumstances are not for your consumption.

Nor your edification.

Nor your encouragement.

And, it’s possible that these shitty (yes, I swore, stop freaking out) circumstances are just because we live in a fallen world. That there is illness. And pain. And hard times, and EVERYONE has to walk through them.

Don’t be like the friends of Job. Stop it.

Please also understand that maybe - juuuuust maybe - there is nothing I need to learn through going through this hard time. That maybe, jusssssst maybe, crap happens. And it’s my turn to weather that storm. That maybe, just maybe, the only outcome of this situation is: “Welp, I’m still alive…”, not a deep, paradigm-shifting change in my understanding of the Divine, of love, of grace.

Because when we make it about what a person’s learning in their hardship, we take away the depth of the pain. We turn it into a “learning experience,” instead of sitting in their darkness, the weight of their circumstances, the deep, unrelenting stress and hurt. Instead of showing up, and letting the enormity of the situation be real, we subjugate the truth of the matter with our need to not feel the depth of the pain of our loved one. It’s a protective measure, I get that; but keep it to yourself.

Don’t tell me that God’s got something for me to learn through this. That’s fuckery, as a beloved friend calls it. (Yes, I swore again; I’m really good at it.) It’s a pile of stinking horseshit that has no business being near someone who’s a walking wounded. IF there’s something to be learned (and that’s IF), then that’ll happen, but trust me on this: 1) the learner gets to learn and do with that knowledge/shifting as they wish, 2) it’s absofuckinglutely none of your business, and 3) to insinuate that this pain is for their ultimate good and growth? That it’ll, in the end, be a good thing?! Fuck right off with ya. 

Show up to my pain. Come in where it’s awful. Do the dishes or run me a bath or hand me a glass of whiskey if you must DO something, but don’t…DO NOT speak of what amazing wonders God has for me when I come out of this time. Just show up and shut up. Or don’t come here at all.