Concerning Pain

“You start Saul, and end up Paul,’ my grandfather had often said. ‘When you’re a youngun, you Saul, but let life whup your head a bit and you starts to trying to be Paul – though you still Sauls around on the side.”

Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

Sean: My father was an alcoholic. Mean fuckin’ drunk. Used to come home hammered, looking to whale on someone. So I had to provoke him, so he wouldn’t go after my mother and little brother. Interesting nights were when he wore his rings…

Will: He used to just put a belt, a stick, and a wrench on the kitchen table and say, “Choose.”

Sean: Well, I gotta go with the belt there.

Will: I used to go with the wrench.

Sean: Why?

Will: Cause fuck him, that’s why.

Good Will Hunting

One of the greatest challenges (and if succeeded, accomplishments) in the Christian journey can be summarized in James 1:2-4, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

Not only being joyful amidst trials, but rejoicing that you are experiencing them in the first place. As an athlete, I enjoy a good workout. Sweat covering my face and dripping onto the ground, my muscles shaking from effort, lungs on fire from exertion, it’s cathartic and therapeutic to me. However, no athlete enjoys getting injured. It’s a pain that represents setback, a lack of progress, an obstacle that cannot pushed through, but only patiently waited out.

Now, this article goes to how I have chosen to deal with pain and the complex relationship I have with pain in my life. I am often told by friends that the pain I am experiencing is for a reason, I should take advantage of what pain is teaching me, God has us grow through trials, etc. etc. etc. Now, I agree with all of these things; but to these remarks, I normally consider that if I was a prisoner serving a sentence in prison, I would do my best to make good of the situation. However, if an opportunity would come to escape or shorten my sentence, it would be very hard not to grasp onto that. This has manifested itself in ways in which I numb myself in order to not feel pain and struggling with desiring to die early.

Disclaimer: Before I write about any of the substances which are named on this list, I hold no judgment for those who choose to use them. In a controlled environment, clear mind, and moderation, they can be used to have a merry time with friends and family. However, my relationship with some of these substances have been toxic and a means of an escape, in which case help should be sought after and these substances limited.

Alcohol
Ah yes, the most classic method for numbing among not just college students, but adults as well. People have told me that it’s not possible for college students to be alcoholics because everyone is doing it. To that I respond often for why they are choosing to drink. For me, I definitely began heading toward the path of alcoholism. I would drink to forget, numb, to distract, and speed things along. I first started drinking in college because it was either that or be alone in my dorm room on the weekends. Once I started, I made rules for myself that I eventually broke as I started becoming more comfortable with it. Drink on special occasions: broken. Never drink alone: broken. Never drink when depressed: very broken. Especially with the rise of COVID, going through a semester at home and alone away from my friends at school, me developing a feeling of loneliness even when I am around people, me not understanding why, etc. During my sophomore year, I convinced my parents to buy alcohol for me so that I could experiment with writing poetry while drunk. Really it was just an excuse for me to have some steady access to alcohol while trying to cry for help. Even though its a bit metaphysical, this poem can reveal where I was:

Tail of the Drunken Poet

12oz

1. What will we do with a drunken poet?
2. What will we do with a drunken poet?
3. What will we do with a drunken poet?
4. Put him at his wit’s end!
5. What’s the result of a drunken poet?
6. What’s the result of a drunken poet?
7. What’s the result of a drunken poet?
8. A soul that’s broken in writing!

9. All who have entered the craft have
10. been put face to face with the door of the unconscious 
11. and can choose to open it to embrace treasures of untold value that lay
12. past its threshold!
13. However, these treasures come with a curse, nay, a weight!
14. This weight seems but a small price, 
15. but drags those who wield it down through the dirt and 
16. breaks their bodies and minds only so that they may 
17. deepen their soul’s reach.

24oz

18. What will we give a drunken poet?
19. What will we give a drunken poet?
20. What will we give a drunken poet?
21. A chance to be a heard voice!
22. What will we take from a drunken poet?
23. What will we take from a drunken poet?
24. What will we take from a drunken poet?
25. Everything that matters!

26. There once lived a boy from Arizona.
27. Sometimes he felt like a lona’. 
28. He said what he did,
29. and did what he said,
30. but after all that ended up dead! 

36oz

31. What will we see from a drunken poet?
32. What will we see from a drunken poet?
33. What will we see from a drunken poet?
34. A life of questions and whiteout!
35. What will be said of a drunken poet?
36. What will be said of a drunken poet?
37. What will be said of a drunken poet? 
38. At least he put his heart out!

39. Of what do we know is pure?
40. Of what do we know for sure?
41. Where do we go when we die?
42. Where is the kingdom of the sky?
43. How is this life a blessing?
44. How is our God this testing?

48oz

45. What will be heard from a drunken poet?
46. What will be heard from a drunken poet?
47. What will be heard from a drunken poet?
48. Absolutely nothing!
49. What will be remembered of a drunken poet?
50. What will be remembered of a drunken poet?
51. What will be remembered of a drunken poet?
52. Absolutely nothing!

53. To try and find perfection in writing is to try and find meaning in everything.
54. To try and find happiness in everything is to try to see and be blind to the tangible.
55. To try and be blind with sight is to try to remove one’s mind and soul from the world.
56. To try and remove one’s mind and soul from the world
57. is to become the world and feed the world with your body.

60oz

58. How will it end for the drunken poet?
59. How will it end for the drunken poet?
60. How will it end for the drunken poet?

Yes, I know, humorous over your first read. However, there are some lines I read and I think “Damn… I was not okay.” For example, lines 56 and 57 are in reference to me feeling that it would be better that I die and allow my body to be nutrients to the Earth because, at least then, I’ll know I would do something of value. My death would be more significant than anything my life could offer.

It would also suck because there were also people who knew I was not okay when I drank and they looked at me like that. Whenever I would begin to drink, it felt like I was treated like a baby by some people. It’s not that I cared that I was being treated like that. I just cared that I was being treated differently than everyone else. I was being treated like a burden and responsibility instead of a peer.

After this summer, I realized I desperately needed to remain sober the fall semester and just not touch anything. It helped, but it didn’t cure me. I found myself whenever I was feeling depressed or anxious very much wanting some gin or rum. It was especially hard as the people around me are turning legal drinking age this year and want to celebrate and go out drinking more. I like being around them, but it’s hard to be the only person in the room who’s sober. I certainly know some people in my friend group look down on me that I am not drinking, but they have also never asked why I stopped in the first place, of which I hope this is illuminating.

I decided to break my sobriety during winter break three times. The first two were fine, I was around good company and having a great time. The third, not so much. On New Year’s Eve, my roommate insisted I come with him to a New Year’s Eve party instead of being alone in the apartment. I grudgingly accepted, not really wanting to go. I had a decent time though. I danced, I had a little bit of party juice, certainly not as much as I had the other two times, but I was having fun.

And then it turned midnight.

There are two events of the year that are hard for me personally: New Year’s Eve and my birthday. They both represent an explicit passage of time, reflection over what you’ve accomplished, and turning a new leaf to what is ahead, looking back on previous birthdays and New Year’s events, etc.. However, the problem is that most reflection I do is depressing because I feel alone in my reflection, feel as though I have accomplished nothing, and fear turning a new leaf will result in deafening loneliness and the continuous, uncontrollable death of relationships around me. I can grasp as hard as I can to what I have, but it will be taken away nonetheless.

Upon this mental flooding, I went outside and simply sat down in my buzzed state. Soon after, a sober ride brought myself, my roommate, and a couple others back to our complex. I went back to the apartment while my roommate went to someone else’s apartment in our complex to continue hanging out. So there I was, alone with the thoughts of my mind.

I tried to cut my arm open about 25 minutes getting home. It wasn’t intended to be suicidal, just a distraction from what was going on in my head. I didn’t end up doing it. Not because I couldn’t physically, but because I thought about those I was close to. I felt as though I couldn’t put my family through even more stuff going on (they will also most likely read this, so sorry). I felt incapable of being able to express my pain and simply had to sit and marinate in it, feeling like I had to cry but being incapable of doing so.

So because of this, I am now sober again. My 21st birthday is in about two weeks, I am scared as to how my mind will react upon another symbolic day of “progress” and what I imagine will be an incredibly high social pressure to drink.

Let me establish that I personally do not believe that alcohol is inherently bad. I think under the right contexts, it is a great thing. In Luke, Jesus turning water into wine was the first miracle that he performed in his ministry. It should be used for occasions of celebration and life such as birthdays, weddings, holidays, etc. However, I feel as though I am confined in an area and culture that uses any minor excuse as a celebration to drink. “It’s Friday! Let’s drink!” “It’s Saturday! Let’s drink!” “It’s two days before Halloween! Let’s drink!” “The vibes are on! Let’s drink!” “We are going to do ____ and get drunk for it!”

This unfortunately puts me in the situation of being in a difficult environment full of tempting substances that I know will bring me to a hole in my mental health or be alone, which is also not good for me.

Marijuana
I have never had an “enjoyable time” smoking weed. In the moment it can be fun, but the next morning, I feel like I did absolutely nothing. During high school, I held weed at a very long distance. I was an athlete (and a long distance runner, at that), if I were to ever smoke, so many of my opportunities would go out the window if I were to fail a drug test/get caught. Then I go to college and experienced my demons from my upbringing following me and creating a difficult reality that made challenges near unbearable. Toward the end of my first semester, I tried smoking for the first time. It’s funny, a couple hours before hand, I was at Cru and our speaker insisted that we end the year “on a high note.” The irony of this statement is not lost on me.

I was most likely giggly during my first experience and the occasional times I participated in it. It was a way for me to be able to hang around people and some of my friends. Instead of some of them saying “we’re gonna smoke” and then I go off by myself, I could actually join them in the festivities. The occasions that I want to smoke though are when I am already under the influence of alcohol. It doesn’t matter what I am using as long as it would cast me further from sobriety.

Further from having to feel pain that wasn’t unbearable, but to me seemed unending.

It’s infuriating. This is literally my comfort to pain because afterwards I can just sleep it off and pretend it was a dream. Kendrick Lamar says in his song “Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst,” “I’m a dreamer and sleep is the cousin of death, really stuck in the schema of wondering when I’mma rest.” I’m essentially dreaming my fantasy, or really what it is is “un-reality,” and then trying my best to just drift off into the closest thing to death that a human can experience. For people who struggle with suicidal thoughts, the train of thought isn’t we want to be done with life, we just want a break from it, but there is no break without just ending it, so we suck up the latter.

At this point I’m done with pornography and lust and just going to go on a tangent on suicide and death (the former of which I’ve struggled with and the latter of which seems to be constantly teetering between the forefront of my mind and my subconscious). I remember seeing this post about “30 reasons why life is worth living” or something like that. It goes into these things I’ll miss like “falling in love,” “the places you haven’t gone,” “liking a new book” etc.. I regret to say that I approach this thinking with an air of cynicism. Most of the things listed aren’t promised in this life. It is very possible I go my entire life without being able to experience what I consider to be authentic love-falling. And are books and exploring really what life is about? Sure, they can be seasoning to the meat of it; but without some real substance, then I’m just eating spoonfuls of spices that leave my mouth dry and in need of water.

I didn’t put love on the “seasoning” part of the metaphor because I do think that love is worth living for. God’s love sustains us and human love (however flawed) shows us a glimpse of who God is. In response to the KKK putting a flaming crucifix on his front lawn, MLK gives this response to the media about love: “Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.” That is what I think that life is about. If loving each other is how we show people God, then we are turning thorns into roses, rotted wood into strong oak, walking dead into true life.

That’s why for me, relief from pain doesn’t really come from things that distract me from whats going on inside me. I love going out to eat with people, going outside to just walk around and explore, and just talk about whats going on inside of them and how the outside is affecting it. Some of the most memorable conversations I have with my friends are the ones of how we are struggling and are willing to just help each other through it however we are needed. Even though our struggles are different, pain in of itself is still pain. It is felt by everyone and needs to be felt in order to understand a deeper longing of what we as human’s need.

Theres this idea going around about not texting or reaching out to people because then you see “who the real ones are.” That idea seems stupid though because if everyone followed that idea, no one would ever be the first one to reach out. I know I need to be better about reaching out to people. I kind of just hope that I run into them and say “hey, let’s get lunch this weekend.” But sometimes that just doesn’t happen. I’ve gone through almost a month of classes and know who I’m not going to see now.

So my thing is just reach out to people. Desire to understand the why of their character. Understand that there are things going on that we can’t see that people may feel scared to talk about because they may be seen as less, weak, or unworthy of love. But love is what is needed for healing.

-Nic