Pain accompanies our life from day one. We are born and we cry—I would call that emotional pain, confusion pain. We don’t know what’s going on. It seems like everyone is afraid to feel pain. Physical or emotional.
We avoid emotional pain and end up hurting ourselves physically so that our attention shifts. Because it’s easier to deal with physical pain than emotional pain. So we drink too much, we eat too much, we take drugs, we blame others for our misery. We punch things until there’s blood on our fists. We exercise until our body gives out. We work too much, we study too much.
Honestly, I could go on and on with ways people hurt themselves. By doing this, we are trying to escape. We’re scared to face what really hurts. And there’s a lot to face, if I’m being honest. Not everyone will do that— not in their entire life.
Why? Because we would have to confront the truth. The truth about what happened—the things we’d rather forget. The truth about what we did. Our mistakes. The people we hurt. The lies we told. The truths we’re ashamed to admit.
That’s a lot of responsibility. And who wants that? Who consciously chooses pain in a world where pleasure and happiness are advertised everywhere you look?
It’s easier to have fun. It’s easier to keep ourselves busy. It’s easier to talk about others. It’s easier to see everything else—just not the pain inside.
Some people do this their whole life. Some find the courage to look inside. And yes, it hurts. It hurts so much I can’t even describe it. A drilling tooth or broken bone is nothing compared to this pain.
But when you start healing small pieces of your soul—of your being—it slowly dissolves. It gets better.
I’ve faced a lot of my pain. Crawling in it. Crying for hours. Begging, “When will this end?” And I still experience it from time to time, because we can’t heal all at once. Some wounds are deeper, and we have to be ready to feel them.
The good part? God will never give us more than we can handle. So when something comes up and the pain rises again, deep down I know—it’s time.
That doesn’t mean I’m not angry. I am. And I ask God: Why? Every time I go through it, I have a conversation with God. I say everything—how angry I am, how unfair life feels, how He can allow this, how I’m supposed to live with all these truths I now see. I speak without a filter.
And then, I say thank you. Because I know this pain gives me freedom. It gives me a beautiful understanding of my being, of my life. And then—I see more. I feel more.
Because when pain leaves, it makes space for love, joy, happiness—and most importantly—gratitude.
Gratitude that I’m here. That I can experience life on this planet. That God made me so perfectly imperfect.
We’re taught to search for the good, for happy moments. But life is not only about joy. It’s both.
Good and bad.
Happy and sad.
Success and failure.
And in both, we find depth. We find meaning. We find ourselves.