Suffering I’ve heard is the journey to happiness
It’s tragically hard to do those things that grant us peace when we are actively suffering however.
To even recognize peace when we are being hammered away at by our issues.
To help arthritis we are supposed to use our hand
To help a sore muscle we are told to move it
To help a broken heart we are told to “get back out there.”
All of these things seem impossible.
To help anxiety we have to stop being afraid of the anxiety.
All of this is a struggle I never wanted to have but then it wouldn’t be a struggle then I guess.
I used to think that my pain was a consequence of who I used to be and what I’ve done. It made it much easier to swallow then. To recognize that I was just a bad person and this is the suffering meant for someone like me.
But I don’t believe in sinning or the sinner or the gods who declare those things any longer.
And my suffering became these attributes that I was terrified of experiencing. My body getting older. My mind slowing down.
My body pleading with me to start to take things slower. To not overdo it. To unclench my shoulders and try to breathe.
My body has been throwing me warning signs for years and I haven’t been listening.
I never really learned how to deal with these things because I wanted to be miserable.
Everything now has become much more scary as I continue to gain things to live for.
What if I am always on the verge of a panic attack? What if I never get better? What if I lose my eyesight or die in a car crash?
Those things are no longer my consequences to actions or relief of a struggled life ending. They are just scary things happening that I don’t want to happen.
I know I’m supposed to work with it. Let the wave hit me. Let it drown me and I will come out victor but it is much easier said then done.
When I was younger and had no idea what panic attacks were I would cry out to God to save me. To forgive me of whatever I had done to be in this much emotional pain.
I have no one to cry out to anymore. No more excuses of perceived healing. It’s just myself now. It’s just me experiencing these things in the moment. And everyone else is just untouched by my sense of unreality.
The rest of the world doesn’t see the panic in my chest.
They can’t help and I wish they could sometimes.
I’m still learning this world of unseen illness.
I’m sure I’ll be here awhile so I might as well try and get comfy.