It was always there with me

Chasing me since I was young.

I ran from it at first;

That’s what I was taught to do.

Don’t confront it;

it will be ugly.

Don’t acknowledge it;

No one wants to see that.

Because you had a roof over your head and food to eat.

And because you didn’t go to bed hungry or wondering

if you’d be warm enough this Winter.

Your good grades, your hobbies, and well-behaved manners

were all people needed to see.

Anything else, all other thoughts and feelings, were pointless.

Because you had things that some people didn’t.

And you should be grateful; you should always be grateful.

And I was grateful.

I’m still grateful.

I will always be grateful.

But it’s still there, thriving in the holes in my personality.

It’s in my tired bones and worn strength.

Always nearby, no matter how much money I have.

No matter what great treasures my future holds.

Try as I might, no matter how hard I run

It seems perpetually one step ahead of me.

Until one day I grew tired of running.

The burning fire in my lungs consumed my every breath,

My aching feet losing strength to keep me up.

I felt as though I would collapse.

So, one day I decided to stop running from Pain.

Despite how terrifying it looked.

Despite others willing me to ignore it and leave it alone.

Despite those who wished to pretend it wasn’t there at all.

I turned around and faced it head-on.

And as I sat with it a while, I discovered

That it wasn’t as horrible as I was told.

Its dark eyes were from sleepless nights spent remembering.

Its eerie from, pale and hollow and wispy and so familiar,

was from having been in the sun, but never truly feeling it’s warmth,

Holes tore open its body from all the ones that betrayed its trust,

And it walked with jagged, broken movements that I recognized.

The day I sat with Pain, I realized that it bore an impeccable resemblance to me.

The day I sat with Pain was the day I learned

That it just needed somebody to recognize it.

To acknowledge it.

To see that it was there.

The day I sat with Pain, I only listened

as it weaved its tale from beginning to end.

And then gave it a hug when it was finished

To let it know that I was there.

That I saw it; understood it – felt it.

And we have been friends ever since.

---

I don’t know what to call this piece – it’s somewhat of a poem, but doesn’t quite fit that category fully. I wrote this a few years ago when my daily life focused on fighting personal battles I’ve since learned to lay down.

I don’t feel this level of pain the same as I used to. When I wrote this, I was actively going through it and seeing no end in sight. Now I look back on it and can remember the struggles and how it all felt in order to use it for my benefit. I look back on those painful moments fondly, knowing that while it was difficult for a younger me – it almost broke me completely at the time – an older, more mature version of myself can now use this heartache for my growth.

And though I’m in a different place now than when I wrote this, I still feel this way about pain. I grew up in a household where we didn’t really talk about our feelings, so us kids never learned how to sit with our feelings and process them. These days, that’s all I do.

Well, not all I do, obviously. But every day, I take random moments to assess how I’m feeling and let it teach me something if it’s going to. Through these moments I’ve come to understand a lot more of myself. Because I understand myself better, I love myself more.

And I think that was my main issue before: because I didn’t know myself for so long, I felt like a stranger to me. And how can you love a random stranger?

As the year is coming to an end, I’m going back through my old written works and reflecting on my progress over the last 12 months. It’s refreshing to see there has indeed been improvements but I know I still have a long way to go.

I hope you’re proud of yourself for all you’ve been able to do this year, too.