Me and my pain...

I have emerged from the last little rocky boat of psychic pain, a little unsteady and with a whole bunch of new insight. It wasn't any different than if I had whacked my thumb with a hammer. Man, that hurts! I always feel that it is unbearable in the beginning, but, of course, it isn't. And it only hurts at that level for a few seconds. Then it settles into this kind of continual moaning pain, throbbing with my heartbeat. I apply ice, and maybe some arnica, if I can find it, and persevere until it settles down. Notice that I do not yell at it, or say that I shouldn't be hurting like this, or feel that it is unfair. In the weeks that follow, I forget about the pain, until I bump up against something that triggers it again. That is always a surprise, when that happens. And it always does. Happen, I mean. That is the stage I am in at this moment. A stray thought will start the pain up again. It is only a shadow of the original, though. The only thing different from the hammer blow and this process is that I am not sure of the instrument of my torture. I have needed to do some sleuthing in the messy mire of my subconcious mind to find the source. It is old, essential pain this time, something hard-wired into my screwy psyche. Whatever, I am still glad to be me, glad that I have friends who will listen to me piss and moan, glad that I have a mind that can do the detective work, and a heart that can still break, and be patched up, yet again.