Pain. This four letter word is comprised of so much more than the four letters that form it. In fact, in our culture, pain is quite the abomination. At the first twinge of a headache, we pop some pain killers. It's easier than addressing the stress or poor nutrition or even exhaustion responsible. When a child cries, we shut them up with humiliation--"Big boys (or girls) don't cry." Our mantra is to "suck it up" as we carry our excruciating burdens with a smile plastered on our face. Why are we so afraid of pain?
This aversion to pain is even more amazing in the context of relationships. It always seems that when we break up or end a friendship or even face a death, we do whatever we can to eradicate any proof of it's existence. Photographs are cropped or destroyed or packed away in boxes. Friends and family are sworn to secrecy, no longer allowed to utter the offending names. Gifts are returned or exploded in a backyard bonfire. All this in the name of "moving on"! The reality is that we're avoiding the pain that will inevitably creep in at the sight or mention or memory.
What are we missing out on by doing this? Human memory is a fragile beast...and so unreliable. Time has a way of adjusting the hue and saturation of our past. But the perspective that we gain through time on this earth soothes the gut-wrenching emotional cramps once evoked by that person. Sometimes we're even surprised that we can look back and actually find some pleasant moments hidden there.
Someone once promised me that he'd build me a house on top of a mountain so that every morning I could walk outside to my visual reminder that I was the queen of the world. I actually drove by that mountain this weekend. Thinking of that brought back so many me mories, especially of how much that experience changed my life. In a moment of bittersweet reflection, I wished I had a tangible token of that relationship. Instead, I had erased all the evidence long ago, left with only my fragile memory.
All this has left me with the conviction that I want to l ive my life with my arms wide open to all of it...the laughter...the tears...the fury...the love...the joy...and yes, even the pain.
This aversion to pain is even more amazing in the context of relationships. It always seems that when we break up or end a friendship or even face a death, we do whatever we can to eradicate any proof of it's existence. Photographs are cropped or destroyed or packed away in boxes. Friends and family are sworn to secrecy, no longer allowed to utter the offending names. Gifts are returned or exploded in a backyard bonfire. All this in the name of "moving on"! The reality is that we're avoiding the pain that will inevitably creep in at the sight or mention or memory.
What are we missing out on by doing this? Human memory is a fragile beast...and so unreliable. Time has a way of adjusting the hue and saturation of our past. But the perspective that we gain through time on this earth soothes the gut-wrenching emotional cramps once evoked by that person. Sometimes we're even surprised that we can look back and actually find some pleasant moments hidden there.
Someone once promised me that he'd build me a house on top of a mountain so that every morning I could walk outside to my visual reminder that I was the queen of the world. I actually drove by that mountain this weekend. Thinking of that brought back so many me
All this has left me with the conviction that I want to l
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