Pain Will Visit

This post has been years in the making.

Not because I’ve been writing it for years… but because I’ve been learning and storing the lessons away, knowing that I will one day compile them and put them somewhere accessible. For myself. For others too.

Looking back at the last few years of my life, seasons of pain have been a recurring feature. Pain that doesn’t seem to leave. Pain that wants to stay. Or at least it feels that way- for a long time.

It always finds a way to manifest anew. This year it’ll be failing at something, next year it’ll be heartbreak- and who knows what else next. But it feels persistent. Permanent. Never-ending. Dark.

And you can’t see yourself beyond it. Before it. You try to piece together your life before the pain- elusive. So you look ahead to imagine what your life could be after this pain has finished its’ work- impossible. Darkness.

Pain will teach you to live day by day. How will I make it to the end of the day? That’s the only way to get through- by taking it back to the beginning. Counting the steps you make. Getting out of bed. Dressing up. Eating.  

Pain also does not discriminate. It doesn’t care that it was not your fault. It doesn’t care that you’ve been praying to God every night. It doesn’t care that you’re writing a dissertation that’s due in 20 days.

Pain is the price you pay for experiencing the depth of life.

So the question is…

How can I use this to grow?

The thing is to be open to the lesson- what is this teaching me? About myself? About others? About life?

Hang on to what keeps you afloat. Move with the sea. Move with the waves. Thank you to the things that keep me afloat- colouring, tea tree oil showers, peppermint pedicures, letters from my sister(s) – small, but important.


“If you are silent about your pain, they will kill you and say you enjoyed it.” (Zora Neale Hurston) | Nairobi, Kenya

Try not to let pain make you feel small. Life is so grand. Don’t forget that you’ve been here. You’ve been living and thriving and growing and glowing. You’ve been here, shining.


© Tessy Maritim


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