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I’ve felt a lot of emotional pain, so I should have a lot of gifts.
But it doesn’t always work that way.
Sometimes you have to feel emotional pain for years and years until you get your gift.
Sometimes you feel the pain, and the gift is obvious.
Other times, your life comes unwrapped, and you’re in the jarring present — but you don’t receive the present as a gift.
Then you realize that you, yourself, are the lesson to be learned.
But why does anyone suffer?
Now we are getting into the philosophical/spiritual realm, and that realm shouldn’t be tarnished with words.
Why do bad things happen to good people?
Why do some people grow up destitute and others flourish with financial abundance?
Why does the world teach hard lessons through cruel tricks?
Because the world is full of emotional pain. And emotional pain is a gift.
When I was a kid, I would often take things really personally.
I would get upset easily, but I wouldn’t always show it at first.
My friends didn’t know that I was burning inside, but the walls of my bedroom could see the turmoil.
I paced back and forth talking to myself.
I twisted and turned through the thought loops, doing somersaults backward to what I said — only to go tumbling forward again in my mind, to the present moment.
Did I do the right thing?
Did I say the right thing?
Why did I say that in the first place?
Did she care that I said that? Did HE care? Why do I CARE?
This process, or some looping variation of it, churned through my mind on an almost daily basis when I was a kid.
It’s gotten better these days. I don’t get quite as lost in the same rabbit holes now.
But still, I wonder:
Why do I care about this? Why am I worrying so much? It doesn’t even matter. Worrying won’t help.
I’ve developed skills to keep the anxiety at bay, but I’m still the same me underneath. I’m still Jordan, so I know the worry won’t ever truly leave. But I’ve come to accept that. Acceptance leads to internalization, and internalization leads to resilience.
Your friends make fun of your quirks when you’re a kid.
But your quirks can become your weapons when you get older.
My obsession as a kid was straight-up neuroticism.
My obsession is corralled now. And it drives me, fueled by emotional pain.
I love to learn. I approach most things with a laser-like focus.
I want to pick it apart.
I want to see what’s behind it, what’s driving it, what the motivation is of the person who is using it.
I want to see people for who they truly are — not who they tell me they are. I think it’s rare to find someone who is authentic through and through, right out of the box.
I think there’s a warming-up period. Hi, nice to meet you. You work where? Oh, that’s nice. I do this thing and that. OK. OK. Well, see you later.
Sometimes I want to stop the conversation, scrunch up my face, and say something outrageous. Like:
When have you felt the most emotional pain?
Now that would spice up a conversation nicely.
We can learn a lot from questions like that one. Unfortunately, we so rarely get to ask questions like that one.
Did you see THIS show? Did you see THAT game? You didn’t? You did?
I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you, my mind was already thinking about the next thing I was going to say.
What’s what? You’re busy? Me too. Me too. OK. Goodbye.
And just like that, life is over. Life has gotten up and left the conversation.
Sometimes I think I was supposed to feel more strongly so that I could wake up to my own life, so that I could snort in the fresh air and choke on the sensation.
That’s living.
Life doesn’t happen like a TV show.
No, it’s quick and sharp, jarring and abrupt. All at once, and once and for all.
Life comes wrapped in emotional pain because it’s the only way it knows how to get through to us.
Stop it! You’re alive! Don’t you realize that? Pay attention to ME. I’m your life!
Loss, death, mental health crisis, illness, trauma, turmoil, disaster. These wake us up and knock us off our feet. And then we get our bearings again.
Sometimes these things change us forever. Other times, we slip back into the comfort of sameness.
Emotional pain breaks us out it.
Because emotional pain is a gift.
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This post was originally published on Medium.com and is republished with the author’s permission.
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