Pain In Every Language

According to the books, life is supposed to be beautiful — full of wonder, laughter, and love. Fairytales taught us that after the storm, there's always sunshine. That pain is just a chapter, and happiness is the ending.

But for some of us… that ending feels like fiction.

Because sometimes, life doesn’t hand you peace. It hands you people who tear you apart with every word they don’t understand. People who poke at wounds they didn’t cause but make worse. And suddenly, the life you were supposed to love becomes the one you’re trying to survive.

No research can explain that kind of pain. No questions need to be asked.

They just don’t get it.

They don’t get you.

And that misunderstanding — that invisible wall between your soul and their vision — it breeds a quiet kind of agony. One that doesn’t always scream out loud but burns behind the eyes, in every fake smile, in every “I’m fine” that’s a lie.

Pain is diabolical.

It echoes. It haunts.

It shows up in your sleep, in your silence, in the things you no longer say.

It crawls into your chest and makes a home there, convincing you that maybe joy just wasn’t made for you.

It becomes your shadow — not just following you, but consuming you.

And yet... somehow… you wake up again.

Not because it’s easy. Not because you feel strong. But because something deep down refuses to quit.

That something — it’s wild. It’s fierce.

It’s the roaring lion in your spirit that says, “I will not die in this.”

Some people endure. Some break.

Some numb themselves just to make it to the next hour.

Some beg God for a way out — for the pain to make sense.

And others… they walk into the fire again, hoping that this time, they won’t get burned the same.

But the truth is, this race we’re in isn’t about speed — it’s about strength.

It’s about waking up on the days you don’t want to.

It’s about holding on when there’s nothing, but thread left.

It’s about believing — even with tears in your eyes — that this isn’t the end.

Because somewhere in the chaos, God is still moving.

Even when we don’t feel Him.

Even when we don’t see it.

Even when it looks like all hell has broken loose — He’s still working.

And that alone is reason enough to stay. To breathe. To hope.

You might be in the middle of your breaking,

but God is in the middle of your building.

And maybe, just maybe,

this pain you're carrying isn’t punishment.

Maybe it’s preparation —

for the kind of joy that doesn’t leave,

for the kind of peace that isn’t shaken,

for the kind of strength that can’t be stolen.

One day, the pain will stop.

And when it does,

you’ll look back at the ashes of your old self

and realize that everything that tried to destroy you…

was actually what God used to deliver you