The heavy feeling on your chest and it squashes you till you feel like you’re drowning without water. It percolates through you, with a sort of ripple effect. It’s like someone has mapped out all your pain points and then pinned them all with thumb tacks. You want to scream and spit but all that escapes is the silence and it’s gritty and dirty and peppered with noise. You find yourself questioning the whos and the whys and engraving them into everything you see. You can’t escape from the interrogation because it hangs above your head like a mushroom cloud and envelopes the city that is you. You find yourself doubting and hurting and beseeching again and again. Your hand is trembling and your mouth is dry and your voice is rasp. You are perpetually tired of the bad things. Because when the bad things come, then you feel weak and helpless and lost.
I wrote this a few months ago, when I was feeling maybe a bit sad. I wrote it and never published it, but I kept it because even the unpublished blog posts are important. Writing things down is my favourite way of coping because at least my inner monologue can have at it and give me some peace. I never published it because I couldn’t write more than one paragraph and my English teacher told me that a good story should always involve a multitude of paragraphs. Yet, you’re reading this post which is very much published. I finally figured out how to finish it.
You know those moments when you’re so far into a Netflix binge that you reach a certain level of delirium. Your feet start to morph into remote controls and your eyes are dry like cream crackers. It’s these moments when you’re most vulnerable to those higher powers that be. Suddenly, a character from the show utters a line so brilliant that you’re shook. The hallelujah chorus is chiming and your body tries to jolt up but your legs are so long dead that even the fabulous Frankenstein could not revive them.
“Pain is your body’s way of saying I’m not okay now but I will be soon.”
“That’s it? That’s it Francine!?” I hear you cry. All this build up and foreplay and yes, all for this simple, teeny weeny quote?
As children, we are told that all things can be divided. Numbers, good and evil, people who despise pineapple on pizza and people who are wrong. We are taught that there are good things in this world and the bad things are the toothless, smelly and mean people who happen to live in the same neighbourhood. When I would draw out the Venn Diagram of this world, it was always obvious to draw the pain bubble in a different area than the good feelings bubble. Hell, those bubbles didn’t even share the same school district. This quote has completely messed up my Venn Diagram, but I don’t even care! This is a big thing because I really care about Venn Diagrams.
I love this quote because it shows me the break in the clouds of the pain I can feel. It also reminds me that I’m pretty damn lucky in ways that I can’t really describe in Calibri (Body) on a Monday evening. The pain I feel isn’t pointless like mixer and side salads, but it is very much real and a throbbing reminder that I’m alive and kicking. For the sake of all the great things I will do and enchanting people I will meet, I’m glad.
Funnily enough, despite all the deep and serious stuff that I spew into all corners of the internet, it’s often said that I’m kind of robotic. Maybe it’s my monotonic voice or the fact that I write love letters in C++. That’s okay, I can save all the emotional baggae for my blog.