I will never tell you that your pain is not real or that it does not hurt you. I will not tell you to stop talking about it or that it’s time to “get over” it. When you feel it, when you double over and clench your fists against the pain I will not tell you to relax or to imagine a cool, calm forest. Instead, I will be a cool, calm forest. I will breathe slow and long, stroking your hair until the wave passes. I will sing soft songs, light a fire when the cold night falls, listen in the dark and wait by your side.
Your pain is real and it does hurt you. I’m sorry that you have it. I wish that there was a way to medicate it, to take it away, to move it far from you. I wish there was a way to avoid it, friend. I wish there was a way to walk through the cool, calm forest of life without experiencing the wolves, the winds and the wild overhanging branches. The best any of us can ask is to have someone to walk alongside, to tend the wounds and sing soft songs, to light a fire at night to guard against the cold and to wait until the pain subsides.
You are not alone.