Pain is a reminder of limitations

I want to cry or scream. The pain is bad. I'm breathing heavy and trying to deal with it, hoping it won't be here too long. What else can I do? I've got Tylenol, coffee, and my cigarettes. That's all I've got besides my strength and tolerance for pain. It hurts just like that image above. It hurts less when I stay seated. It hurts more when I stand or walk. I feel like the Tylenol had no effect - like the pain is so much bigger than the Extra Strength Tylenol. I try to accept that. I tell myself it will pass, and pain is temporary, like happiness. But the mood is different than my strength. The mood gets angry and depressed. The mood thinks about death. The mood makes jokes about how Death is the Messiah and eliminates all suffering. I think gruesome, dark thoughts - like how I've seen people get killed, and how some of their deaths were so quick and seemed painless. That's what pain does to me. It reminds me of the blessing of mortality and death. It makes me grateful that we don't live forever. I can only hope that my death will occur when I'm in great pain so that I can be grateful to both death and pain.

I mean think about it - I don't think that anyone wants to die when they are feeling happy or pleasure. That doesn't make any sense at all. But when someone is in pain, Death is the Messiah. Take it away, Death, Take it away.

If I get past this period of pain, and get to that day when I get to enjoy walking and doing whatever without the pain, I will appreciate the living and being again, but no one will think that I do because they will still hear me complaining about something and they will still see me smoking. They will assume that I don't care about life because I smoke and complain, and they will be wrong in that assumption.

I don't know why I woke up this morning, or yesterday morning. Was it to clean the house? Was it to make my bed? Was it to write an article? Was it to sell a craft? Was it to buy some cigarettes? Was it to plant a flower? Was it to listen to someone talk? Was it to say something to someone? Was it to feel the pain in my back? Perhaps.

I don't like pain, but I can make jokes and pretend that I'm a masochist. The truth is the pain is in my way busy bee way. I wanted to do other things besides sit here and feel the pain and think about pain. I wanted to keep nurturing the garden. I wanted to sweep and mop the floor. I wanted to clean up the kitchen that I painted yesterday. I wanted to finish the laundry and put the clothes away. I wanted to do what I do all the other days when I'm not feeling pain. But pain is here regardless of what I wanted to do, and the pain will not allow me to do all those things that I usually do. So now that I can't do all the things that bring me pride and satisfaction, all I can do is sit here, feel the pain, tell you about the pain, and wait until the pain is doen with me so that I can resume doing the things that bring me happiness, satisfaction, and pride.

Today there is no happiness and pride. No, just pain. I can only take some satisfaction in knowing that at least I was able to produce this article as I sit here in the pain. At least, I was able to do something, which is better than nothing, and if the pain gets even worse than it is today, it could be nothing. And doing nothing is the worse, in my opinion. Just laying there completely unable or disabled, waiting for Death the Messiah.

Something is better than nothing, so I hope you didn't hate this article about pain. Pain wears me out quick. I feel so tired after just one article. Without pain, I get so much done.

I got snappy with my roommate yesterday. He likes to criticize every good thing that I do. Never says "good job" and never says "thank you". That causes me an emotional pain that is different than the back pain I have today. I told him yesterday that he doesn't do anything around here. That's how I feel about the roommate situation. It reminds me of the group projects that I was forced to do in high school and college. I do all the work, and the group gets all the credit. Truly bothers me.

But then today while I'm in this pain, I think about how he has suffered a lot of pain. And how he isn't the same person that I admired 10 years ago. No. He's not that person at all. He can't do all the things he did 10 years ago. He couldn't fix my car when I had one. He can't fix my bike. He can't even put a toilet seat on the toilet. Probably because he's too old and in pain. Oh well. I guess that's his version of aging with grace. Pretending there is no pain. Pretending he's the same person he was 10 years ago, when he's not.

Pretending doesn't bother me. But criticizing me when I'm doing my best, that does bother me.