I haven’t lived a hard life, but I have endured my fair share of pain — physical, mental, emotional, and maybe even spiritual (if I were sure such a thing existed).
Much of the physical pain I’ve experienced was the consequence of injuries suffered in my very active teens and twenties. I’ve dislocated knees and shoulders, broken bones, and at some point I stopped keeping count of stitches. Over the years, I’ve been relocated, reset, fused, stapled, sewn, and screwed (six titanium screws hold parts of me together).
The emotional injury (the most egregious) came courtesy of one of the worst traumas a woman can endure. I survived, but not unscathed. Besides invisible scars that still aggravate me on occasion, it’s now little more than part of my history, a part I’m neither proud of nor ashamed of. I’m neither a survivor nor a victim. It didn’t make me, and it didn’t break me — it’s just a thing that happened a long, long time ago.
As for enduring the mental hardships that accompany enduring, I’ve made the necessary (but difficult) choices that facilitate growing up and growing wiser. I’ve had to figure out what I need to live (for), and what I can’t live without, and what I want and what I want more. Years ago, I slept inside my car for several months when forced to choose between paying rent and paying my tuition. The situation was hardly life-threatening, but it was certainly unpleasant and unsettling.
I’ve survived broken hearts and bruised egos (my own and others), wounded pride, the loss of self, and the loss of those I’ve loved. Though broken hearts can heal, they’re bound to break again — dealing with the discomfort of pain I know is coming is harder than I imagined. And besides all of that, I still fight with often conflicting emotions and an intermittently faulty brain.
So yes, I’ve known pain.
But never like this.
It’s intense and almost too much to endure.
Despite my care and consideration, it happened anyway…
I razor burned my taint.
Good god… it fucking hurts.