(Was going through the many many drafts which I'd written and saved, found one which I think deserved to be published after a year.)
I hate pain, I hate pain with a PASSION. No, not physical pain, but emotional and mental pain that wreak havoc onto your entire being, throws you completely off-course and creates an emotionless zombie.
Pain reminds me of how incompetent I am, how utterly useless I am, how much of a wimp I am.
Pain leaves me wallowing in self-agony and a deep longing to crawl under a desk and curl up, never wanting to face the horrible, dreadful world again.
Pain makes me feel like a spiky durian that will intentionally hurt people who come too close to me.
And yet, after each painful experience I go through, I find myself growing. And the greater the pain, the more exponential the growth.
I don't recall victorious moments all that clearly. Yes, I've definitely experienced happy moments in life, far more than unhappy moments.
But. It's the tears and sorrow that have moulded me into the person I am today.
As a very young child with Selective Mutism (unbelievable, eh?), I remember how I hated, detested myself for not daring to speak up in public.
As a 7-year-old who was forced to grasp the meaning of death when my eldest brother lay dying in the hospital bed, and I was brought to his bedside to bid my final goodbye. 19 years later, I still remember the helplessness and anguish I experienced as my tiny body shook with fear, pain and tears that night. No one around me could offer comfort, we were all dealing with the pain in our own ways.
As a 17-year-old, who made the difficult decision to give up a scholarship to the UK, despite protests from everyone, and return home, to take care of a father who had been diagnosed with 4th stage cancer. To prepare for STPM while your dad lay dying in the hospital bed, to have tear-stains on your books because doctors had given him weeks to live, right in the middle of Finals. To stop writing in the middle of a 3-hour exam because you had a fleeting, frightful thought of your dad dying at that very moment.
As a 23-year-old, who made the decision to walk out of a 4-year mentally abusive relationship, a relationship that had destroyed my spirit and self-esteem.
And more.
And after each painful experience, I went through what I would call, "Passionate Growth".
Passionate growth stems from pain.
And not just any pain, but devastating pain that makes you feel like the most wretched creature on earth, something that the ground would swallow and vomit out again in vile disgust, spittle and all.
But after the most painful moment has passed, when you can finally look back at the horror you had just lived through, you begin to savour life again, to experience it in its full vitality again.
Little pleasures you'd never noticed before bring greater delight, and you begin to go through life with far more excitement and amazement than ever before.
Aye, pain is the catalyst to an amazing life.
