When Pain is "Good"; Pain As Drive and Reality

As life went on, along with the physical pain I failed to cure (back pain, neck pain, emotional pain, and so on), it seems that I became almost immune to the effects of pain. I will not give you any specific examples, but let's just say that I am quick to anger, especially when I do something like easily and numerously lose in a game.

I never liked losing, because losing means there is no advancement, and without advancement, there is no productivity, and without it, I am just wasting my time, and I despise wasting my time.

As I failed to cure my various physical pains, they became a common reality I gradually taught myself to accept.

For the "common" person, these pains are very bothersome, but for me, I almost "lost" the ability to care. This is related to the short article where I said that apathy is, in some way, a strength. The more you don't care about something that could've otherwise been bothersome, the more mental resistance you develop against it. Hence the importance, of not being triggered by everything.

It was one day back in high school, when a teacher asked me, desperately, an important question in class, unrelated to the material: "Do you dislike the noise in the class?" I answered, Of course I do. Then, they asked, So why am I not doing anything against it? I answered, Because I taught myself to accept it.

The entire class laughed, because they thought I was joking.

And here I am, with ever-so tense muscles across my body, after a game I played that made me furious, suffering under the regular doses of physical pain, enhanced by my anger. It seems I can't play any fighting game anymore, because all I want to do is win, and watch my opponent be overwhelmed by my might.

Almost each part of my body is tense and in pain aside from the legs, and yet, I don't really care. This pain is something that happens in the background; not something that is related to the so-called "higher-self". That is also what I taught myself when I used to exercise -- it's just pain, it's just unease. There is no reason to be so obsessive about seeking as much comfort as possible.

Someone I know is like this -- far from ascetic, and always wants me to feel comfortable, without any unease whatsoever. They did not know, empirically, of the realization I attained as a result of my pain, simply because they didn't have that pain in their lives.

When I see people in wheelchairs, for example, I adore them for not complaining about back pain, because this nightmare of a pain began in me simply because I sat most of my childhood and wasn't very physically active.

And still, no matter how many pills I take, how many exercises I try to do, the pain is there, laughing at my incompetence to get rid of it. It was in these moments that I realized that pain had become my teacher. Their lesson is -- endure as much as you can, until the inevitable arrives.

Endure as much as you can, so you can write as many articles as possible, before leaving this world. The pain you feel, is but a reminder that you too are breakable; make sure that you do not give up to pain's temptation, if you wish to leave as big a legacy as possible!

As I wrote in an article about suicide -- one of the reasons people seek suicide, is to end their suffering. Death, so it appears to me, is the only solution to end my over-a-decade long period of physical torment, which in turn, reflected poorly on my mental health. However, I will not kill myself, for I accepted pain as a reality.

Pain is good, not because it is enjoyable, or because it makes you feel manly. Pain shows us the potential, hidden within us, to endure the many issues we may face throughout life. By abstaining from this world, I have failed thus far to reach a long-term feeling of serenity, simply because of that irremovable pain. Whenever I am not aware of pain, my actual hunger increases, and even though I eat well, food is one of my main subjects of thought, even after a well-deserved meal.

I guess that, in short, pain not only made me significantly stronger and apathetic, but also physically massive, even though I don't work out often. Even my normal shirts, sized XXL (or XXXL?) are sometimes too small for me, because of how much I eat.

Eating is the only physical remedy I have for this pain, and that remedy is short-term. Since I eat a lot of chicken, I also get very muscular as a result. Chicken appears to be one of the few meals that satiate my huge hunger; even then, one is never enough...

It is only through pain that I have become the man I am. A physically massive monk who constantly fails at his attempts at long-term attainment of serenity. Pain made me a reactive individual, quick to anger when something did not go the way I wanted it to.

It made me the modern-day equivalent of a Mongolian warlord, per se. I only abstain from this world just to keep that reactiveness in check, and it was the primary reason why I disabled commenting back on Quora -- the comments of haters only made me angrier, more frustrated, and more obsessive about succeeding and conquering my goals. Isolation is not a cure; it is a way to better protect myself from the unproportionate energies stored within me.

The catalyst for my success as a writer, thus far, has largely been this pain, which is not exclusively physical. With each day that passes without me writing, I only get more irritated, angrier at the fact that I'm wasting the life I was given here by whatever source. Even if I finish an article on a particular day, I might be tempted to write even more on another day, simply because of how rewarding and pain-relieving it is, to write!

Those who lack this pain-caused-drive, shouldn't seek to hurt themselves. They should seek to better themselves and use their emotions as a proper catalyst for their work, and their role, in this existence. The pain I am trying to describe to you is a pain embedded with merciless passion and iron-willed discipline; a utilized pain, a pain that is manipulated, to be used as a means to an end! Not the pain of a masochist, but the pain of a worker, of an ascetic.

Therefore, I write! Because my life is painful. Ever since that girl at kindergarten screamed right into my ear, it seems that life has changed forever for me. Instead of getting out, I have confined myself to forced solitude, just to get a glimpse of peacefulness, which I have thus far failed to achieve, due to my desire to write as many articles as possible. It is only when I write, that I affirm to myself, that the reasoning behind my existence, is justified.

Because of this pain, I will eventually leave the Philosocom legacy to you, dear reader, and because of this, my pain is, productively wise, a good one. However, it began spreading its goodness, only when I realized, that I couldn't ever fully satisfy it. Like a dog, I always remain hungry, and probably will be, until the day I die.

Perhaps, when I began sitting in front of computers, this "curse" began developing within me; a rune of continuous pain; a Rune embedded within me, by my body, punishing me for over a decade, for not giving it the physical exercise it once so desired; a Rune of Punishment; a Rune of Atonement; to atone for my "sins — for endless days of sitting, of junk food, and of neglect. My neck pain, the worst of all, is something I have felt without any break since elementary school.

Now that this "rebellion" of the physical body is too strong to ever be disposed of, regardless of health, it is now that I only further realize, that my life as a philosopher is "set is stone", and that other paths in life are now too late for me. I philosophize to cope with the pain, and to use it to be more productive as a writer, so I would feel better about myself, that I'm not a leech.

And finally, of course, there is this thing I also mentioned in my earlier articles: that the world is shallow by default. That is the one reality I find hard to just submit to. Hence the very existence of this site! Hence my passion to write more and more, so, like stairs, I'll be able to climb further upwards, away from the darkness below...

The darkness of nihilism is this: that all of this, is for naught.