Two months ago, my son died shortly before being born, after a pregnancy that felt interminably long and was excruciatingly physically painful for me. Birth is supposed to be that beautiful thing that emerges from physical pain, but for me it just led to even more suffering. So my existence, lately, has been more of the pain of grief than of physical pain. But I still experience this same cycle, where I completely am consumed by the pain and I have to tolerate each excruciatingly long second, until it inexplicably lifts and I am struck by the intensity of existing in the world again. A week after he died, I drank a glass of wine for the first time in almost a year, and the pungency and flavor of it just completely punched me in the face. I momentarily could emerge from the pain and experience world in that hypervivid, intensely saturated way. I can't ascribe any meaning to my son's death, or to my suffering, but there is a sort of beauty to the occasional receding of the pain, even if it's just momentary.
I know this isn't really what you were writing about here; it's not really the same. But you've still made me feel less alone, and maybe a little more hopeful. So, thank you.
I’ve been trying to think of metaphors for meaning/suffering based on what you said at the end and it’s interesting because you described suffering as something that is so all consuming that it blots out thought and comprehension which kind of puts into mind blinding light, but the idea that suffering exists in the larger story of meaning makes me think of darkness, something that makes room for light. Maybe it can be compared to both, like bookends encapsulating a spectrum in which meaning lives. The moment between death and rebirth.
wow, i’m only halfway through but this is speaking to me so clearly. i have my own experience with chronic illness, both in myself and in other people i love deeply, and making sense of it has felt so impossibly wrought that i often have to stop myself from going there because the emotional pain on top of physical pain is actually soul crushing. i think illness is not something we celebrate talking or making art about because it so acutely reminds us of our mortality, a realization that humans are famously unwilling to come to terms with. i love the way you write about it though and have found a lot of comfort and understanding in others’ expression of chronic illness in art when i’ve managed to come across it.
i really, really relate to this. i too want so desperately to find meaning out of the suffering myself & my loved ones experience due to chronic illness but, likewise, often have to stop myself because the emotional pain feels insurmountable. thank you for sharing, i'm glad to know someone else has felt this too
this reminded me of the life and work of Frida Kahlo. She depicted her suffering all the time, her physical pain and her deep emotional pain that emerged from it. She was suffering almost every minute of her life but she had such a good outlook on life, she was in love with the world and wanted to change it for the better. I think she knew God. maybe you could read about her I think you can relate a lot to her!
There’s a book I recommend on this topic, “seven ways of looking at pointless suffering” by Samuelson that I highly recommend. This article touched me. It’s hard to articulate the suffering that comes with chronic pain (and the people who love them), and isn’t that what art is for? Thank you
Recently I've been going through something called status migrainosus, which is a prolonged and relentless form of migraine. My head started hurting and hasn't stopped, even when it gets better. Reading this made me cry, which is something I try hard not to do because it makes my head hurt worse. Just like how you write of the nailing to a Meaning that we didn't quite know was there, I felt like this post was nailing me to some emotion I was trying really hard not to feel. For a lot of the time I just try not to suffer. I just consider the pain another item in my daily to-do list. I sometimes live like a machine, operating on the barest automatic and pretending I am at full functionality. I sometimes write poetry to try to make up for that, but it usually ends up being very abrasive. I feel like here, I've read an amalgamation of hopeful and hateful things I'm too psyched out to write myself. This essay makes me feel human; it reminds me of the faith and embitterment that colour my life. Thank you.
i feel like i needed to read this piece, i'm so glad i came across it. thank you for sharing it. i think i will come back to this time and time again. i have, for over a decade now, dealt with chronic pain due to chronic illness, and i so desperately want to ascribe some sort of meaning to it, for there to be some reason for it to have happened as it has. there's that quote (from bojack horseman i think?) about how if there's no meaning, and no reason, then it's not good damage, it's just damage. and i've always found it hard to reckon with that, with the idea that this has all happened for no reason.
I had to literally stop reading this part way through because it was making me nauseous. Not at all a criticism of the piece! I've just been thinking about pain and chronic illness and hell lately and you captured so much of it well, and brought thoughts I was avoiding to the forefront. Definitely worth it to get to the end.
This has given me so much hope, and I am grateful to have come across this beautiful piece.
I have a genetic blood disorder that led to avascular necrosis which brought my life to a grinding halt and turned my world into pain for the longest duration I have ever experienced . I couldn’t reconcile the pain and suffering with my faith in a purely good and loving God, and remarks from certain people about how “if you have enough faith you’ll be healed, if you believe enough you’ll get a miracle, blah blah blah” was not helping. But I couldn’t bring myself to truly give up my faith, that was the only thing I had to convince myself that life was worth living. If I truly gave it up, I knew I would give up on life too. It was hell; I couldn’t keep believing in God, but I couldn’t stop either.
Even now, as I recover from joint replacement (another painful experience), I linger in this purgatory. I don’t think I will ever believe that any of the pain I’ve experienced was necessary and I don’t understand why or how to keep believing that the world isn’t at best indifferent to my plight (and the plight of humanity at large), but here is this beautiful piece that acknowledges the unnecessity of pain and suffering and still holds on to faith. I am still confused and lost but maybe, maybe if I hold on and keep trying, I could find a way to hold both these truths at the same time too. Maybe I could even find a way to make some beautiful with it too. Yes, it’s not a prerequisite to make beauty, but if you must be stabbed with a knife then might as well carve with it too when you can.
Thank you. This has helped me more than I can express.
Physical suffering – and the inherent mental anguish it brings – is close to me.
I'm an Orthodox Christian. I curated an ongoing Google Doc 'On Suffering' that I would like to share with you. It is primarily theological and religious, but a decent portion of it is secular.
This resonates with me. When I'm in pain, I am at peace and a certain part of me comes alive. I may not be as excited but the creative part of me comes alive. I write better; poems articles, and short stories.
Two months ago, my son died shortly before being born, after a pregnancy that felt interminably long and was excruciatingly physically painful for me. Birth is supposed to be that beautiful thing that emerges from physical pain, but for me it just led to even more suffering. So my existence, lately, has been more of the pain of grief than of physical pain. But I still experience this same cycle, where I completely am consumed by the pain and I have to tolerate each excruciatingly long second, until it inexplicably lifts and I am struck by the intensity of existing in the world again. A week after he died, I drank a glass of wine for the first time in almost a year, and the pungency and flavor of it just completely punched me in the face. I momentarily could emerge from the pain and experience world in that hypervivid, intensely saturated way. I can't ascribe any meaning to my son's death, or to my suffering, but there is a sort of beauty to the occasional receding of the pain, even if it's just momentary.
I know this isn't really what you were writing about here; it's not really the same. But you've still made me feel less alone, and maybe a little more hopeful. So, thank you.
thank you for sharing this, Perry ❤️
This is so fucking clairvoyant. I have been thinking about the concept pain and suffering too !!! whats in the air omg this is so epic so humansauce
I’ve been trying to think of metaphors for meaning/suffering based on what you said at the end and it’s interesting because you described suffering as something that is so all consuming that it blots out thought and comprehension which kind of puts into mind blinding light, but the idea that suffering exists in the larger story of meaning makes me think of darkness, something that makes room for light. Maybe it can be compared to both, like bookends encapsulating a spectrum in which meaning lives. The moment between death and rebirth.
wow, i’m only halfway through but this is speaking to me so clearly. i have my own experience with chronic illness, both in myself and in other people i love deeply, and making sense of it has felt so impossibly wrought that i often have to stop myself from going there because the emotional pain on top of physical pain is actually soul crushing. i think illness is not something we celebrate talking or making art about because it so acutely reminds us of our mortality, a realization that humans are famously unwilling to come to terms with. i love the way you write about it though and have found a lot of comfort and understanding in others’ expression of chronic illness in art when i’ve managed to come across it.
i really, really relate to this. i too want so desperately to find meaning out of the suffering myself & my loved ones experience due to chronic illness but, likewise, often have to stop myself because the emotional pain feels insurmountable. thank you for sharing, i'm glad to know someone else has felt this too
this reminded me of the life and work of Frida Kahlo. She depicted her suffering all the time, her physical pain and her deep emotional pain that emerged from it. She was suffering almost every minute of her life but she had such a good outlook on life, she was in love with the world and wanted to change it for the better. I think she knew God. maybe you could read about her I think you can relate a lot to her!
This reminds me a lot of John Green's episode in his podcast The Anthropocene Reviewed on Viral Meningitis
Thank you for sharing. This reminded me of the song 'Wasteland' by NeedtoBreathe
There’s a book I recommend on this topic, “seven ways of looking at pointless suffering” by Samuelson that I highly recommend. This article touched me. It’s hard to articulate the suffering that comes with chronic pain (and the people who love them), and isn’t that what art is for? Thank you
Recently I've been going through something called status migrainosus, which is a prolonged and relentless form of migraine. My head started hurting and hasn't stopped, even when it gets better. Reading this made me cry, which is something I try hard not to do because it makes my head hurt worse. Just like how you write of the nailing to a Meaning that we didn't quite know was there, I felt like this post was nailing me to some emotion I was trying really hard not to feel. For a lot of the time I just try not to suffer. I just consider the pain another item in my daily to-do list. I sometimes live like a machine, operating on the barest automatic and pretending I am at full functionality. I sometimes write poetry to try to make up for that, but it usually ends up being very abrasive. I feel like here, I've read an amalgamation of hopeful and hateful things I'm too psyched out to write myself. This essay makes me feel human; it reminds me of the faith and embitterment that colour my life. Thank you.
i feel like i needed to read this piece, i'm so glad i came across it. thank you for sharing it. i think i will come back to this time and time again. i have, for over a decade now, dealt with chronic pain due to chronic illness, and i so desperately want to ascribe some sort of meaning to it, for there to be some reason for it to have happened as it has. there's that quote (from bojack horseman i think?) about how if there's no meaning, and no reason, then it's not good damage, it's just damage. and i've always found it hard to reckon with that, with the idea that this has all happened for no reason.
thank you, again, for this piece.
I had to literally stop reading this part way through because it was making me nauseous. Not at all a criticism of the piece! I've just been thinking about pain and chronic illness and hell lately and you captured so much of it well, and brought thoughts I was avoiding to the forefront. Definitely worth it to get to the end.
This has given me so much hope, and I am grateful to have come across this beautiful piece.
I have a genetic blood disorder that led to avascular necrosis which brought my life to a grinding halt and turned my world into pain for the longest duration I have ever experienced . I couldn’t reconcile the pain and suffering with my faith in a purely good and loving God, and remarks from certain people about how “if you have enough faith you’ll be healed, if you believe enough you’ll get a miracle, blah blah blah” was not helping. But I couldn’t bring myself to truly give up my faith, that was the only thing I had to convince myself that life was worth living. If I truly gave it up, I knew I would give up on life too. It was hell; I couldn’t keep believing in God, but I couldn’t stop either.
Even now, as I recover from joint replacement (another painful experience), I linger in this purgatory. I don’t think I will ever believe that any of the pain I’ve experienced was necessary and I don’t understand why or how to keep believing that the world isn’t at best indifferent to my plight (and the plight of humanity at large), but here is this beautiful piece that acknowledges the unnecessity of pain and suffering and still holds on to faith. I am still confused and lost but maybe, maybe if I hold on and keep trying, I could find a way to hold both these truths at the same time too. Maybe I could even find a way to make some beautiful with it too. Yes, it’s not a prerequisite to make beauty, but if you must be stabbed with a knife then might as well carve with it too when you can.
Thank you. This has helped me more than I can express.
This was so poignant and spot on for me. Thank you for sharing. 🌹
Pardon the brevity, I loved this. Bookmarked.
Physical suffering – and the inherent mental anguish it brings – is close to me.
I'm an Orthodox Christian. I curated an ongoing Google Doc 'On Suffering' that I would like to share with you. It is primarily theological and religious, but a decent portion of it is secular.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1BSpB-1Wtg0UBafFch1IrJE-sjcGW6SElFSCzSLCI9pc/edit?usp=sharing
Hope it's a salve.
Subscribed.
___
Found you via internet princess' 'suffering mix': https://open.substack.com/pub/internetprincess/p/suffering-mix?r=svkn&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web
This resonates with me. When I'm in pain, I am at peace and a certain part of me comes alive. I may not be as excited but the creative part of me comes alive. I write better; poems articles, and short stories.