I Asked Suffering
Are you my Punisher for sins of this life,
or the crimes of my lives before memory?
Are you my Teacher, my Preacher of patience,
stirring surrender and empathy?
Are you a Gift to the few who can bear it?
A Grantor of strength through the struggle?
Are you the Builder of character, inspiring
heroes who endure endless trouble?
Are you a Lens to show me perspective?
A Sieve to sift through what matters?
Or are you a Ghost of imagined affliction?
My psychosomatic disaster?
Is the universe Evil, delighting in pain?
Is it Good in design of my growth?
Or is it Indifferent, oblivious, uncaring—
which somehow seems worse fate than both?
Is Suffering my Curse or Blessed Afflictor?
Perhaps you’re the same and yet none.
Whatever your name or nature may be,
our dance to the death is not done.
For though I would gladly break free of your burden,
my pleading has not changed my plight.
Fight though I might, or accept my affliction,
both show a single insight.
Regardless of what others tell me of you,
you are what I make you to be.
The Thorn in my side. My Guide in disguise.
My shapeshifting Frenemy.
Author’s Notes:
Living with MALS, autoimmune disease, immunodeficiency, long-haul COVID, and the resulting chronic pain and fatigue, I’ve had plenty of years to contemplate a complicated relationship with suffering.
There are layers to suffering. The physical pain and fatigue while muddling through one more day. The mental strain for solutions while pushing through the medical system. And the emotional turmoil of asking why, of pleading for help, of hoping against hope for release.
A lot of people with good intentions try to tell us what suffering’s purpose is, how it makes us stronger, helps us be grateful, or might be God’s tool of punishment or instruction. These people are as helpful as Job’s friends and would do well to place a hand over their mouth.
The truth is, suffering just sucks. No lessons and learnings change that.
Still, sometimes suffering has helped me see what’s most important. I’m more grateful for the small things. I’m so much stronger than I thought I could be while so much weaker than I’d rather be.
As my constant companion, my suffering is a familiar friend. Yet, it is my enemy as I strive daily to douse and conquer it. We dance to the death in a tension of struggle and acceptance.
Ultimately, no one should tell us what our suffering should or shouldn’t be. It doesn’t have to teach us anything. It simply is. And it’s okay to just get through it.
Our journey and our suffering are our own to shape and be shaped by.