Pain

"I want to be allowed to explore the things I haven't allowed myself to explore."

These are the painful words that cut my heart into a million different pieces, each of them shifting and moving in response to this residual, painful burning that I feel. I freeze in response to where these words take me. You know how revolutions seem to lead you in circles and you find you're in the same place as before, but this time it's a level higher? That's what it feels like. This evolution of mine has brought me to a place that feels the same as square one when I first starting changing things in my life, and yet it's nothing like before. This time I actually uttered those words, which I was afraid to say. I say it feels similar to before because that freezing response I talk of is similar to what I initially experienced, and yet it's like it comes from a different place which therefore makes it impart a different kind of feel. The scariest part about this pain of mine is that it's unlike any other I've experienced, so the unknown is scary. It's the terror of accepting myself, something of which I'm closer to than I've ever been in my entire life.

It seems that music will remain my refuge, a tool to self sooth and assuage my persisting feelings. Tycho's album Awake comes to mind, a powerfully ambient release that just lets me feel instead of overthink.

Why do I enjoy...no...need pain?

People ask me if I subject myself to pain because it gets me high. I've never felt anything resembling an endorphin rush from pain. At all.

No, pain has a different function in my life.

Pain reminds me what I am and who I am.

What I am is a mortal human being possessed of a fragile, flawed, impermanent body with which I have a narrow window of time to do something significant.

Who I am is a person who has gone through a lot, faced obstacles and dangers, done what was thought impossible, and learned incredible things by constantly challenging himself.

Pain reminds me of all of the times in my life when I faced difficulty and that every single time, I got through it and came out stronger and wiser.

Pain is a reflection of my relationship with the world.

And even though it hurts, I'm comfortable with it.

Because I know that nothing has any power over me and that everything is going to be okay in the end.

I'm comfortable with pain. Emotionally, and physically. While I'm in the moment. But before hand I'm terrified of it.

I just want to forget so the pain would go away.

If my memory could be wiped and I could just be blissfully unaware.

Woke up this morning to my mom calling down the stairs. She's having some sort of muscle spasm in her neck and needed me to go get some Aleve for her. I was still stoned from last night, god I still feel stoned even now.

Psych says I'm getting high because acid has entered my life. He says when I get that dose in the mail I'll get high just being around it. I don't know when I'll have a good time to try it, probably when my family's out of town.

Last night the room spun around me while I listened to a shoegaze band Wind sent me. B went to sleep early because he had to be up early this morning. Now I'm here still feeling stoned and trying to decide what to do with my day. I want to sleep more but my eyes won't stay closed. I could go to the park and smoke the rest of my weed but I mostly like smoking at night when there's little to no chance of my getting caught.

I actually like being alone when I'm stoned. I love my life when I'm stoned. I'm happy when I'm stoned.

My mom's neck spasm makes it so that she can barely move and it reminds me of the emotional pain I've had lately. Feeling like I can't breathe because I hurt so bad. I'm tired of feeling that way. Drugs are as good a way as any to get rid of it.

So I got the shit beaten out of me the other day. A dominatrix friend and I had joked for quite awhile about her eventually getting a chance to have a go at me, and when an opportunity actually came up, we both shrugged and gave it a go.

I've realized that it's deceptive to call myself a masochist. I always thought that the term was appropriate, because I often willingly subject myself to all sorts of torture, but it's come to light that masochists are supposed to get an endorphin rush or sexual gratification from pain. I get neither. Pain just hurts. And in the case of the other night when I was getting caned and flogged, it hurts a lot. I don't get off on it, and I don't enjoy it.

But I'm going to go back to it again and again, because I don't want to be ruled by it. Towards the end, I started to realize that I might actually pass out, and my stomach started tensing up like I might vomit. Objectively, it's just pain. The injury is superficial and it would be in my best interest to train myself to be able to continue functioning in the face of overwhelming pain. I want to be able to say, "Okay, I'm going to stand here and take this", and not be contradicted by any knee-jerk reactions. I've committed part of my personal development to making sure that my actions are always decided by my rational, intelligent mind, and not my primitive, instinctive mind. And if that means getting the everliving shit beaten out of me until I can take it, then so be it.

This whole process would be way easier if I 'got off on pain' like other people do, though.

shrug Too bad.

I was still pretty aware that I had just gotten robbed, and had blood all over my hands and it was really fucked up.

My nose was obviously broken, and all I could think about was that my mother was flying in to visit me.

When I was five, I taped my eyes open and stared at the sun for 10 minutes. Afterwards, I wandered around a bit satisfactorily pained and impaired by the floating spots cluttering my field of vision. I loved these temporary problems that made it more challenging for me to function. I viewed overcoming them as a necessary exercise to eventually overcome what I was hiding.

Yeah... It didn´t quite work.

"How will you know I'm hurting if you cannot see my pain? To show it on my body says what words cannot explain."

I'm suprised pain isn't a big word, with love and sorry and alone.

I'll be back tomorrow.

Over the years, my pain tollerance has increased, but there are still some points in time at which my body is more in tune with my digets and such not than other times. I usually do fairly well with it though. Eh, whatever, the boys beat me up so much I ought to be used to it :)

I am a glutton for punishment, which some would suggest makes me a masochist - but its not true. I'm a total wuss when it comes to pain - my tolerance is so incredibly low.

...I just like pushing people's buttons.

But seriously, ya, wuss when it comes to pain tolerance.

What's the source of my compulsion to make things difficult and painful for myself?

Maybe it's just that I get bored when I'm too happy and want to create a familiar atmosphere of discomfort for myself. The desire to cause physical pain to myself was spawned by my attempts to balance out mental and physical harm, I remember that. I felt weak for letting his words hurt me, so I carved pictures in hidden stretches of flesh, often upper thighs, where I could feel there was a balance and no one else would need to see or worry.

He could've saved me the trouble by just hitting me.