April 1, 2014 § Leave a comment
Pain that is involuntarily given for no reason, I mean. It happens to hundreds, probably thousands ’round the world. It has happened for millennia–if one believes the documented past.
Without a belief in punishable sin from a wrathful God or selfish human privilege, it has taken more than ten years to ask myself the question. Not coincidently, I’d say, brought on by Winston Smith’s Big Brother torture.
Hidden under the “There is no ‘why’ to disease, hardship, unfairness–life is life, ‘Only-the-strong-survive’ and ‘suck-it-up’, mentality”–or the “Don’t be weak” and ask “Why me, why me” upbringing, the asking had not come up.
So, again: What does pain do to a person’s everyday, every month, or year?
How has pain played a role in the human scheme of things: Neanderthals, world conflicts, natural disasters? I get sentimental just thinking about it–I am part of the human pain race, part of the proletariat, my pain is one with Oedipus or Trumbo’s Johnny. Generally speaking, of course.
What I am thinking is a collective experience of sorts, beginning with chronic discomfort to unimaginable, almost life ending, torture. Very different–yes, yet they can be blanketed under one, theoretically speaking, human experience.
Now, if that makes sense, let’s return to pain. How many while experiencing pain would have given-up after six months, a year, let alone ten plus? How can the day to day pain not pull one down when the banal pleasures of life that many of us take for granted and have used to get through challenging circumstances, cannot happen without a constant nailing of wrists or debilitatingly iron bar to the ankle, not effect one?
Can I finally forgive myself–initiating myself as a participant to this collective pain, I mean: forgive myself from the relatively recent guilt of craft beer obsession.
Since it is one of the only pain-free moments of the week I can justify how drinking liquid bread is so much less a life-threatening side effect than Prednisone and Methotrexate. Makes sense, right: even though the self nags and nags against the justification?
Am I making sense or just drunk? A few glasses have been rinsed and turned over as I walk the streets at night contemplating. Streaks of light, giant graffiti faces, street corner taquerias, art galleries and five star french cuisine next to taverns and pizza.
I am asking whether daily, weekly, and yearly pain makes a difference for those that feel it–if chronic, auto-immunne conditions warrant a blog post or not?
Whatever your answer, here it is.