Saddled
I’m so tired of this feeling. The relentless aching, gnawing, groaning. Always there. At times dulled with alcohol or relegated to the background by distractions such as work or mindless entertainment. I would never dare claim to be the only one who has ever experienced such pain. In fact, I am well aware that, compared to the majority of the earth’s population, my meager burden is nothing. I have clean water that flows directly into my apartment, a roof over my head, a well-paying job that involves sitting in a chair and staring at a screen in a climate-controlled room, and so on and so forth.
Nonetheless, the feeling persists. Simply acknowledging that one’s pain is perhaps lesser than another’s does nothing to ease it, unfortunately. I don’t know why, but it appears to be a common human behavior to compare pain, or to attempt to console oneself because “at least I’m not doing as bad as them.” While there is merit in acknowledging what you have, or being grateful, there is none in using other’s worse plight to feel better about your own. Yet I often find myself attempting to do just that, and in the end, it has just as much healing effect as drinking a bottle of whiskey: none.
Comparing pain also leads to unfortunate situations in which one person, after hearing about the tribulations of another, does not feel as though their pain is valid. They feel compelled to forever add a disclaimer to any of their discomforts, such as “I know this is nothing compared to what you’re going through”, or something similar. Pain is not something that can or should be compared, but rather shared appropriately, with no attempt to judge or rank one person’s pain above another’s. Sharing pain should of course be done with respect and care for all involved. No matter how close two or more people are, there are simply times when one does not have the emotional capacity to share another’s pain.
Or, it could be that the pain is of a sort or severity which requires more than simply the listening and supportive ear of a friend or family member, but rather a qualified professional. In such cases, simply sharing one’s pain with friends and family may only temporarily alleviate it, while adding to the pain of those friends and family members, who are most certainly already carrying their own burdens. Qualified professionals can help one work through the pain so that it begins to heal, or at least lend new, more helpful perspectives from which to view the pain.
The fact remains, however, that I wish that I could remove this feeling inside of me instantly, if only temporarily. Much like one takes off their socks before getting into bed, I wish there was a way to stuff this feeling in a box so it wouldn’t sneak up on me when I am attempting to enjoy an evening or a stroll in the sun. The closest I can come to stuffing the feeling in a box is when I imbibe or otherwise alter my mental state with some sort of chemical. The problem with this strategy, of course, is that its effects are temporary, and often doing so brings along negative effects of its own. You make a temporary trade: Your pain for the effects, positive and negative, of the chemical you are taking into your body.
Eventually at some point the chemical wears off, and your pain comes roaring back in full force, sometimes worse than before. The worst part is, I am fully cognizant of this, yet still often choose to make this trade because I so desperately desire a reprieve. There are/can be exceptions to this, for example there appear to be some preliminary studies around psilocybin and its perhaps long-term positive effects on treating some of the plagues of the mind. As far as I’m aware though, nothing is conclusive and there also appear to be risks to consistently using psilocybin.
However much you or I may long to be rid of our pain forever, it is part of us for the time being, for better or worse. So what can we do? How do we make it through the day? Where do we run when we feel the darkness beginning to envelop us? I don’t know. But know that you are not alone. Not in the sense that I or anybody else is experiencing your exact pain, but that each and every human on planet earth is carrying their own pain.
You and I will get through this. We will all get through this. For as much as the pain may leave us feeling drained, and as though there is nothing to keep living for, there is. The last thing that made you laugh, an utterly pointless and yet wonderful conversation with a friend, a hug from somebody near to you. Experiencing a painting, song, poem, or any other piece of art that resonates with you. A fresh cup of coffee with a splash of milk. These are just a few of mine that come quickly to mind.
You and I are worthwhile human beings who deserve happiness, and if it means navigating pain, falling down, pulling ourselves up, only to fall down again, so be it.
We got this.