Accepting Reality I: Accepting the Pain

(This is the sequel)

(This is the final part)

(Philosocom's Subcategory Directory on Despair and Surrender)

(Background music)

Accepting Reality I: Accepting the Pain

The years 2008 and 2009 marked the end of my ability to relax naturally. It was then that a seemingly endless physical pain in my muscles began—ushered in by a literal scream of pain. That moment initiated a state of intense, non-stop chronic stress that would accompany me for over a decade. The only time I was free from it was when I slept.

I tried everything to reduce it. Psychologists, physical therapy, yoga, anti-anxiety medication, meditation, and alternative medicine. All of them failed. The pain could occasionally be repressed by my unconscious mind when I was heavily distracted, but even then, it lingered in the background. No matter how many deep breaths I took or how much I exercised, all my investments and efforts went to waste, proving either entirely feeble or effective only in the short term.

How did I manage to endure for so long without giving up? The answer is not a grandiose philosophical revelation. I simply accepted this reality as inevitable, because I chose to live, and let the pain make me stronger.

The Philosophy of Strategic Defeat

People often view "defeat" as a sign of weakness. However, sometimes defeat is simply the refusal to engage in another health-wasting conflict.

I eventually accepted defeat because I was too busy being miserable over something deemed more "valuable" by society, such as surviving the education system. It is hard to imagine a reality without this pain accompanying me. It acts like a demon that follows me wherever I go—a demon I use to motivate myself and to justify my avoidance of the masses.

Pain is an inevitable physical reality, but suffering is the resistance to that pain. By dropping the resistance, the suffering decreases.

Conflict is an infantile human behavior that has been normalized and integrated deeply into society. Choosing to be "defeated" by the desire for peace is not weakness; it is a tactical acceptance of a reality where the odds are against you.

In solitude, we rest and heal from the physical and mental pains of society. This healing is the key to finding strength against the verdicts of a reality beyond our control—a reality shaped by the tyranny of circumstances and our actions.

If you cannot improve your external reality, your optimal strategy is to look within.

The Toxicity of Unrealistic Hope

Hope is a vital mechanism when there is a genuine possibility of salvation or redemption. However, when you become obsessive about an impossible hope, it morphs into a nuisance—a distracting disturbance to your daily functioning.

The more grandiose and unrealistic your hope is, the more miserable it will make you. Instead of compelling you to work, it paralyzes you. Hope must be strictly limited to our realistic potentials. The more we engage with mental fantasies, the more we refuse to accept reality as it is. Eventually, this friction causes us to despise the world and humanity.

There is a profound, bittersweet liberation in specified hopelessness.

When you become hopeless about a situation you know you cannot change, it becomes easier to accept its presence and authority. Hopelessness does not always mean pure despair; sometimes, it simply means there is no longer a logical reason to expect a change. You stop fighting the current. You just float.

The Ascetic’s Peace

What has my pain brought me? Anxiety, physical exhaustion, and an ascetic mentality.

I am a healthy person, but I am healthy in solitude. I find society sickening, both literally and metaphorically. The toxic behaviors that people normalize have caused me trauma, creating a strong desire to lay low. The world is stressful, and to recover while still writing philosophy to help others, I live in deliberate social isolation.

Do I like this world? Not at all. But if I did not accept the moral depravity of this world as an unchangeable fact, I would be far more depressed. Giving up on trying to be part of this world directly reduced my stress. I have found peace by giving up the need to partake in the greater reality. Peace is found first in acceptance.

Another person might feel deeply uncomfortable or victimized by having carried this physical and societal pain for so long. But for me? It was Tuesday.

And as such, when people complain about discomfort or lack of pleasantness, I can't help but pity them. They couldn't handle what I handled. And as such, I accept not only the inevitability of pain, but also the distance my strength created between me and the rest of society.

Eventually, the pain receded, but it remains a stark memory; a shadow haunting me and helping me remember that trying to fit me into society was a mistake. There is far more peace and recovery in solitude.