Pain is not suffering

I lie awake, it’s not late, there’s no time, just darkness.

The pain in my side pinches me, feels like flames. There’s nowhere to hide.

I moan and turn.

My eyes fly open.

First there was pain, now there is suffering.

I try very hard to dive into the pain, only the pain. The pain by itself. My head fights me.

It’s so unfair, says my brain. It hurts so much and here you are not even getting the respite of sleep.

I crawl into a hole of panic that it will never go away, that I’ve done something wrong, that I missed a step. Panic that I don’t know where I am, that I am lost, that I am alone. Panic that I will never sleep and will just live on in a continual circle of pain.

Panic is not pain. Panic is suffering. I try to breathe, which hurts but at least gives me perspective. At least gives me oxygen.

I lie there and talk to myself. Try to talk myself away from my brain even while I form arguments against the panic.

Nothing lasts. It will pass. There is a reason. You are learning. What a thrill to get to be where you are. Walk through the fire. Nothing lasts. It will pass.

I breathe into the night.

The pain is a burning sensation, like my side has become a black coal with flames at the edges and charcoal flaking black ash in the center. It is only one spot, like a meteor has hit me. It heats up when I breathe in, fans on the flames, sparks flickering, and calms—smoldering— when I breathe out.

There isn’t any suffering when I don't moan and toss, when I don’t think about how much I would rather be in any other situation, when I don’t think about how unfair it is that I have to feel it, when I don’t think about what I am losing. There is only pain.

It is strange.

Suffering comes back quickly. The brain doesn’t like to be left out. It picks up where it left off a moment ago.
And suddenly the pain is excruciating. Because pain with suffering is unbearable. But pain alone is just pain.

Pain as pain is like rain. It is colored by your thoughts. It is sad, it is beautiful. It is enticing. It is soothing.
It is water. It just is.

with joy and confetti, regardless, and always,

Alexa