Pain by a Different Name.

What is achievement other than a never-ending goal? What is success, but something defined by those outside? What is hunger defined by those who need? What is love desired by those who are lonely?

On one side of a door, there is wood paneling, on the other, an entire room, unless of course you are on the inside, then there is an entire world out there. The possibilities behind any door, any thought fulfilled, any thing you've ever wanted available right here. (Points to one's head)

I don't want it though. The pleasure, for I don't feel I am worthy. I have to keep working, striving, trudging through because I am not going to hold it properly. There are the times I want to give up, give in, quit, but then I remember that this is the gift. The entire reason I exist it to serve, and how can I serve if I achieve? How can I be washing feet when I have nice things? My entire life up until now, has remained in this current thought process. I am going to fail. I have to, it is all I have known. I have to be where I am, for what am I supposed to do, wake up one day and fly? Insignificance is all I have ever known. Being significant is only something I can model, not live authentically. 

I know what God is capable of, rather I don't, but that I am asked to trust. Yet, it is I who I do not trust. Because one knows the Lord, doesn't mean one doesn't have problems with themselves? It is not the almighty I have ever questioned but my ability to do the hard thing, make the call. I feel more comfortable just taking the responsibility for the failure. I would rather just admit to failure, continue to wash the feet of slaves, and withdraw the part of me I hate, and yet love the most. 

Achievement, success, hunger, love, all aspects that I claim to be capable of when I am without, yet even a taste, and my arrogance takes over. I send judgments to people who weren't given the chance. I despise people for they get in my way. I am oftentimes a disgusting human being who is too sick in himself to be anything else. The worst part is that I can't even tell anyone about this. I have to simply sit, and deal with the pain I live in for I know I am awaiting a death from God, a favor as existence on this earth is painful. 

It is when the pain hits the most, the storm most severe, that I plunge to my depth and indulge the body in this saturation of pain. I know why people cut for I crave a slit to my inner thigh, a cut on my knuckles, a slam of my head against the wall, that feels like bliss compared to the turmoil a brain's depressed mood is capable of. 

Sitting, sweltering in a hot box of my own fecal matter. I want it to suffocate me. Maybe the fumes will intoxicate my brain, thus reducing the pain to a numbness that I can manage. 

Wait, what is that behind that door? That little light? I have never seen that opening before. As I crack the door open slightly, I am refreshed by the outside air. Fragrant, cool air, air that does not smell like digested waste. No, this is something almost sweet. Like the potpourri of flowers, grass, wind blowing in from a distance. I know how good this is, how sweet the taste, and am now reminded of just how bad my current place is. 

Why am I here? 

Why would I sit in this small shack of pain when I can do so many other things to change my state of mind? Why would I ever give in on something that is supported by God? Why would anyone ever deny their father's embrace? 

I can't grasp where my mind was, but I know I don't feel it now. Like being full makes you forget about hunger, feeling loved is ignorant of longing, being in the race of achievement takes on a different journey into a purpose. 

I am only relieved for a short while, it is easy to forget that pain, that smell. I am outside now, in the fresh air, the cool breeze, the beauty of light and animals disinterested consistency, doing what they do best. I am free, and yet I turn around in time to see the outhouse door swing open, for I could go back, but why? Why would anyone choose that? 

Then it hits me, I cannot experience the freshness without the outhouse, for it was when I opened that door and was relieved by all that is pure could I know how good this is. Over time, I can't help but wonder if it is that bad in there, why not just try to step in, I mean, it is different after all....

"Different," is not always better. 

When we wander into parts of life that we never thought possible, the fear is crippling. Yet, when we feel that reprieve, we have this tendency to forget how significant the pain was. Appreciate the pain, for it reminds you of why we live, and how this current suit we are wearing, this painful skin and bones will soon not be enough to hold us back. 

Open the door, leave the overly heated outhouse, and breathe some fresh air. Not just for you, but for others. You shouldn't deny the world of your gifts. 

Castle-Broken: When appearances are everything, for body image disorders are real, affect aspects of ourselves that we would never fathom, and interfere with overall quality of life. Like attacking anxiety through obsession in the gym, only to get anxiety from the gym routine and excessive worry of food intake. Click Here. 

God Bless.