Pain is a Matter of Opinion

Recently I had a discussion with a friend about needles. I mentioned being a child and promising my mother that I wouldn't cry "this time" when she took me in for my seasonal shots.

It's funny because every year I would promise that and every year I would break my promise because I was scared. Not because the needle was actually already inside of me and it hurt.

Since then I have become someone who gives blood when she can, and sometimes can't because it hasn't been twelve months since her last tattoo.

It doesn't hurt anymore.

I've come to realize that pain is a matter of opinion. Someone who hated needles as kids could easily grow out of it, though there are those people who still can't handle them.

It's the same with anything people find painful. Usually when you're a kid you find things more painful than you would as an adult. Probably through experience but more likely because the emotional pain of life sometimes becomes more painful than the physical pain.

I've been thinking a lot about how sometimes when people express that they are hurting emotionally we don't take it as seriously as physical pain and we write it off.

When I was a kid I would run around and scrape my knees and twist my ankles and just basically throw caution to the wind when it came to taking care of my body.

As I've grown up, the physical pain has never measured up to the emotional hurts that I've received.

I've been rejected, called names, been judged because of beliefs, done things to myself I can't take back, let others take advantage, etc.

No physical pain that I've ever been through will hurt more than the emotional trauma I carry around with me everyday.

So sometimes when people see others in pain, they don't necessarily see it. Do you know what I mean?

They don't see someone with trigger words, or boundaries, or fears of being involuntarily touched. They only see if someone's bleeding, or limping, or in a cast.

People can write off emotional pain as if it doesn't matter. But that's their opinion. Obviously it's going to matter to the person who is going through it.

So maybe instead of shying away from people when they express emotional hurts, unstability, or scars, we decide to stay and listen.

We decide to acknowledge we shouldn't say certain things around certain people. Maybe we ask before putting our arms around someone.

We stay and let them express what's truly hurt them in their life.

Don't write them off because they aren't bleeding.

Pain is a matter of opinion.

Just because you don't think something would hurt someone, doesn't mean that it wont.

It Was a Simpler Time

It's crazy how being an adult can put so much stress on a person. I can remember being in high school and I had homework to do and I had commitments, but I hung out on Myspace daily and always had my friends over.

These days, I go to work and then come home and watch tv and hangout on Tumblr all night. Sometimes I write, or play music, or read.

But mostly I'm on the computer.

And yet, I'm more stressed out than I was even two years ago.

How is it that with age comes more stress?

Today I took a trip down memory lane and went through all of my old pictures.

Boy was that a terrible idea.

For one thing I was skinnier back then.

I just kept passing over pictures of friends and I hanging out at parks, or camps, and at school.

Things were structured but they weren't.

We had summer. We had winter break.

We had all these things that we had to look forward to.

I'm sitting here looking forward to an email. An EMAIL.

I look forward to the weekend, and then on Saturday I already start dreading Monday.

I feel like I've had nothing to look forward to lately.

The only thing I look forward to is hanging out with people.

Which, I'm starting to think is more important. Really it's all there is.

I get so nostalgic looking at old pictures because they were taken with friends. With people that I love.

You grow up hanging out with everyone so often because it's convenient. They go to school with you, or live down the block.

Then you go to college and you have your roommates and quadmates and they're always there.

You are so surrounded with all of these people that you love and that love you and support you.

Then you become an adult. And it all somewhat falls apart.

Your friends disperse. To different cities. Different states.

Life becomes about working, and making a living and paying bills.

Soon you don't have time to try and make an effort to see people.

That was the biggest slap in the face.

Having all these people surround you, and you promise each other that you will always be friends and that you'll talk all the time. And then you don't.

Out of sight becomes out of mind.

I am so guilty of this.

Then when you don't talk to anyone, you feel alone, then you feel like you can't talk to them.

So you don't tell them anything, because you can't lie and say that you're fine anymore.

It's so hard to grow up. It's hard to have things change.

It's getting so difficult to look back on memories and not be jealous of my younger self.

It's now almost impossible for me to see myself then and not be furious at myself for taking those times for granted.

It was a simpler time.

Him

There wasn't really a time where I didn't notice him. We grew up together, but separate.

I admired him when we were kids. His desire to always seek adventure.

He'd end up hurt and try to act like he was fine, like I did.

I usually kept up with him too. Well. Not running. He was too fast.

Too skinny and aerodynamic. But in spirit I kept up with him.

I remember that he was always hyper, always wanted to do something.

I remember playing truth or dare, and wishing that someone would dare him to kiss me.

I remember being disappointed when he was dared to kiss me and he didn't.

I remember him being there when I started falling for the biggest devastation of my life.

I remember wishing that we were closer. That he could see the potential he saw in her, in me.

Sometimes there are people we just notice. People that no matter where you are in your life, if you see them you will stand up straight and hope that they give you the time of day even though you haven't ever really had a good conversation with them.

You wish you were funnier, or more interesting because then maybe he would seem interested when you talked to him.

I was there when it seemed like he was falling away. Wishing that there was something I could do or say to make it better.

It's good though, to see him now. He's doing well. I don't even have to talk to him to see it. Not that I don't want to.

I'm just scared. Like I've always been.

Scared that he won't notice me.

When I've always noticed him.

When I've noticed him grow up into a man. Finally taking charge and growing. Making progress to do and be better, for himself.

He's so calm now. Like me.

We both used to run around playing games and sports and chasing each other.

I remember when he fell and ripped his cargo pants, leaving his bloody knee exposed.

I remember when he got a concussion playing musical chairs. Musical Chairs.

Now, he seems so stoic almost. Calm and collected, like he's trying to keep in everything that's happened to him. Like me.

Maybe one day he'll look at me and see that he can trust me.

I haven't really talked to him in years. But there's still time.

Time to reach out.

Because when I think of the person I've always noticed, it's always been him.

People Matter

Right now I have two good friends who are on their way to visit me. One I have known for about four years and the other I've known of for four years but only became really close with this summer.

Last night I was talking to her about how I've basically isolated myself since being home, no old friends, no new ones. Just work and I've barely been invested in church.

She told me that when she first got married she felt very isolated too, until we started hanging out.

It's funny how you end up bonding with people right when you need someone the most.

I needed someone. And she made an effort to be my friend, and invite me over even if we just watched tv.

She needed someone. And I made the effort to get to know her better, and to be honest, she became my best friend.

I think that sometimes we don't think things mattered until someone tells you.

Recently I hung out with an old close friend, the first time since I've been home. I met her at her house where her father was too and he started questioning why I haven't been around.

Come to find out later, my friend had thought that I didn't want to be close with her because I hadn't reached out to hang out since being home.

I felt terrible.

Honestly.

This girl that was my favorite person when we were kids and still to this day, thought that I didn't like her.

She only told me this after I told her that I would consider her a close friend until the day I die.

I think we don't tell people they matter enough.

I've been home for almost four months, and I haven't attended my old church, and I haven't seen anyone from there.

They all know that I'm back.

After this realization with my friend, I thought about it.

These people, that always supported me and loved me and even helped me pay for school, probably think that I want nothing to do with them.

When really all I needed was time, and they pushed, and I withdrew. Until I had fully isolated myself into a workout, work, tv show, sleep stupor.

That's when I made my decision to go back, and to look the people that love me in the eye and tell them how much they actually do matter to me, despite my actions.

I've lived my life and had many different types of friendships.

Toxic friendships. Loving friendships. Shallow friendships. Healthy friendships. You name it.

But the ones that I always remember are the ones that mattered.

The ones that were natural, not forced.

The ones that spiraled into every summer day running around looking for adventure.

The ones that brought equal growth. Where you challenge each other and even have to be brutally honest but it works, and you both thrive.

The ones that teach you life lessons, which may hurt, and it may end, but it was a lesson nonetheless.

People have always told me things about myself; that i'm mysterious, that I'm "cool, calm, and collected," that I'm stoic.

Whatever the heck that means.

But I think the fact that I'm not very vocal about certain things makes it hard for people to understand.

I thrive on relationships. I love my friends.

But I NEED to tell them. I need to let them know how much I truly cherish their presence in my life, and their existence altogether.

I need to smile more to reassure that I'm having a good time.

I need to let them know they matter.

We need to let the people in our lives know they matter.

Lets say it until we sound like a broken record, and then keep going.

"I love you."

"I'm thankful for you in my life."

"You matter to me."

"Thank you for being my friend when I desperately needed one."

It's important. People are important. Tell them.

There Is No End

I've always known that I'm terrible at communication. At least when said communication, is me communicating when things are not okay.

Equalling me confronting someone; a friend, an employee, a parent, etc.

I'm terrible at it because it usually needs to happen after a certain amount of time has passed and the same thing has continued to happen, continued to hurt.

If you know me at all you know that I will go as long as humanly possible taking hits, being teased, being hurt, being upset, well, basically letting people walk all over me, before I say anything.

It sucks because it's not just one person, it's multiple people, it's people that aren't even in my life anymore, it's people that are still very much in my life if not the closest people to me.

It's people that despite our friendship being as long as it is, don't actually know me as well as they should.

They don't understand how truly sensitive I am, or what I've actually been through. Because I haven't trusted enough people to speak it.

I've been cut very deep by the people closest to me and I think it makes it hard to let people in because I don't want them to get that close to end up hurting me. Especially when I see similar tendencies in them as I do in the person that did the initial hurting.

And despite all of the pain someone has caused me, intentional or not, it's still the hardest thing for me to bring it up and tell them what they have done. Like I don't want them to get upset that I'm bringing up what they did to hurt me. Or I don't want them to get defensive and then I stop presenting my side and start defending them instead so they can leave the conversation feeling better than I do.

It's not like I want to do it to hurt them either, I'm doing it so that they will understand and try not to do those things, or say those things. Then by the time I've gotten the courage to say something, I wonder, is it just me? Am I just too sensitive?

It doesn't matter.

People need to know when they are hurting you, and if they are good people, they will try to stop.

I know I'm mainly just saying all this for myself, because I need to be stronger that this.

I need to be stronger than I am.

I am weak. I am scared, and I am untrusting.

I need to be stronger and stand up for myself. If I don't like the way that I am being talked down to, I need to ask politely if they can stop treating me like I'm inferior, or talking to me like I'm stupid.

I am weak. So I can't.

I need to be courageous and believe that my life matters, my opinions matter, my feelings matter, and my need for respect matters.

I am not courageous.

I need to be trusting in my friends. I need to trust my parents. I need to trust coworkers. I need to trust people and believe that they care enough about me to let me speak my mind. I need to trust that one friendship will not fall to pieces if I open up and say that I don't like the way they've been treating me. That it won't fall apart if I tell them what's really happened to me.

I need to trust that people will still love me, despite my wounds, despite my fears, despite my darkness, and despite my past. Even now I need to trust that people I love will read this and not get upset, but understand that there are things I can't say.

But I don't trust.

And there is no end.

Time Spent

I realized on Thursday that I have spent a significant amount of time in hospitals. 

When I was a kid it was mainly me getting hurt and having to sit in the waiting room for hours. This could include anywhere from a sprained ankle and smashing my hand in the car door to almost cutting off my thumb with a Spaghetti O's can lid. 

A lot of hospital trips were for my mom and all her various health issues, a lot of surgeries and or emergency room trips in the middle of the night. 

When I got to high school it would be a mixture of going to the hospital to see people such as my youth pastor when she had a surgery, or gave birth, or when I had to sit next to her while her three year old sun got a spinal tap and she heard him screaming all the way from his room. 

Even now in college I've been to hospitals for appointments, or scares with friends. 

I don't know what it is, but I always seem to be there. I want to be there. 

Waiting for hours on end sucks, but knowing that you are there supporting the people you love is what makes it worth it. 

I couldn't tell you how many times I've been to the hospital with people who told me I didn't need to be there, or they apologize, or say that they don't want to be a burden. 

It's never been a burden. Not for me. I think deep down I just love them, so I want to be there, to know that they are safe, or at least have them feel safer because they have someone there for them. 

I can't think of the last time I went to the hospital for my own reasons. 

But I hope that when I end up having to go, that there will be people there with me, to make me feel safe, and not cold and alone in a place where I don't know or trust anyone. I want someone who will look me in the eyes and tell me that I'm not a burden and they aren't leaving. Someone who would even come with me and sit in the waiting room with me when a friend is getting checked out and I'm alone. It's nice to have those friends. It's nice to have people there for you. So that's why I always try to be. 

A Daughters Breaking Heart

For as long as I can remember my mother has struggled with an immense amount of pain.

Because of this, for most of my life she has been addicted to Vicodin and other painkillers. 

Sometimes it's even hard to make it through the week without her needing to have a glass of wine. And she's a lightweight, so she could get flat out drunk with one and a half.

My mom had a terrible childhood, her mother wasn't good at keeping a stable home. 

Two summers ago I was in my room and I heard my mom crying in the living room, drunk, talking about her dad. 

My dad was trying to comfort her, yes, but this wasn't the first time it had happened and it gets on his nerves that she medicates with substances.

I've had to tell her multiple times that she doesn't need to drink. And that I don't know what to do when she gets like this. 

When I got back from Massachusetts she had an episode. I don't remember what had happened, but she ended up calling her doctor to find a place that would help her get weened off of the Vicodin. It would have been 48 hours long so she would have had to stay. Her and my dad got in the car and left, and then no more than five minutes later they were pulling back into the drive way. She couldn't go. She decided that she was going to try something else.

I remember in high school, my senior year, we had moved an hour away from my high school and I had to go on independent studies to take care of her after her knee replacement. She had Vicodin to help with the pain, and I had to give them to her. I was the designated pharmacist when my dad was gone because we couldn't trust her with them.

I also remember when she had finally gotten off of them my summer home after freshmen year, and I had gotten my wisdom teeth out. The doctor was going to give me a prescription for Vicodin to help with my pain, I had to tell her no in front of my mother because I didn't want it in my house. I took the Motrin. 

All of my life my mother has struggled. And it's breaking my heart. I'm not saying that I don't want to help, but no daughter should have to help her parent with their addictions. 

I've wanted God to heal my mom for so long. But I think my mom just needs to see that He can.