I’m not a big fan of “positive thinking.” Yes, it’s important that we love ourselves, that we try to see all that is good and worthy of gratitude in us and others. I believe in seeing the light in others and offering them the support they need to better themselves.
But I also know that it is extremely important that we be realistic about what is what and who is who. Because some people will hurt you. And, yes, it is also important to realize that people are never evil because they want to be so.
They act in that certain way because they are hurting. They’ve been hurt and they’re trying to prevent further damage…it is your decision if you want to try to help them or walk away.
It is also important to know that there’s nothing you can do to help you from getting hurt every once in a while.
If you isolate yourself from the world, solitude will slowly eat away your soul. If you act as if you don’t care about anyone or anything, you’ll end up feeling empty on the inside.
Simply put, there’s no way to avoid life.
And life is pain.
But that’s not such a bad thing. Because every heartbreak, every emotional trauma, every single setback, all of these things can make you stronger and better. Suffering can teach you a great deal about what it means to be a human being. It can teach you not to take things or people for granted. It can teach you about being strong…
Think about it this way…being strong is not about never falling down, but about getting back up…again and again and again.
I was born weak. A sickly boy, I suffered from social anxiety until my teenage years. Then I did become a bit more excentric then other people, until I got my heart broken; until someone made me hate myself more than I’ve ever done before. I felt alone in this world. Or perhaps the better word ismisunderstood.Yes, I felt that there was a part of me no one could ever understand. I also felt things very deeply… Life was all in the small details…
Things that others would’t care about could either make my day or send me on a self-destructive path.
I felt suicidal a few times. Perhaps the better words arehopeless beyond redemption. I struggled. A lot. I still do. I still feel inapropriate some times. I still have a part of me that is an emotional wreck. But I also see beauty in the world around me. Enough of it that is worth doing my best to save it. To save myself.
I was lied to, betrayed, abandoned, hated… And yet… All this pain, all this suffering…even though it almost broke me, almost turned me into the worst version I could be capable of being, in the end, all it did was make me want to save the world, made me want to spend the rest of my days improving myself and helping others too.
That’s why I write. Why I blog. I try to make sense of my suffering, and hopefully help others understand their own struggles.
Looking back, yes…it kind of makes sense. It kind of…
I suppose, in the end, we have to appreciate the good but also the bad. To struggle through the night if we wish to see the sun rise… Simply put, living is an art, not a science. It’s brush strokes and music and words flowing endlessly from one row to another to form paragraphs. And art has to mean something. It has to make you feel. In the end, it’s your choice. Your life can be a bunch ofwhat ifsor a lot ofwhys. It can be a great collection ofwhy nots.
The real struggle is in the choice. The real pain. In walking on the street without wishing for someone to hold your hand, in spending time by yourself without feeling bored as hell, in working your ass off every day, trying to better yourself. The pain of choosing to love yourself even though you hate what you see in the mirror. To help the broken even though some of them will try to break you as well.
The pain is in the choice. Your choice. Not anyone else’s. The world around you is simply a reflection of who you are, of your hopes, dreams, expectations, and fears.
You are who you choose to become, even though the world won’t make it easy for you. Not even for a moment.
“You desire to know the art of living, my friend? It is contained in one phrase: make use of suffering.” —Henri-Frédéric Amiel