It’s so strangely beautiful the way the universe works. There is a synchronization that occurs when we lean in and trust the journey. We can reflect on our past and see the connections that existed to now, even knowing that back then we had no clue. This day 12 years ago I’d been medevac’d from Iraq for a colluded airway, Tonsillitis. I was in the midst of my trauma, struggling to find meaning and connection. I chose to go back to Iraq rather than have my tonsils removed (and go home) and for a long time I held that decision against myself. I’ve since forgiven myself, but not forgotten. Facebook helps me remember and find healing from my trauma. The following “note” from this day 12 years back is no less true today.
I’m struggling on this journey with habits and patterns that I have created at home to manage myself and my PTSD.
If I were home right now I would be sleeping, because it’s still morning. I might go out to work at Starbucks today. I may spend time painting or drawing. I would likely sit outside at the picnic table, enjoying the last days of summer with Janelle before she goes back to work. I’d have made a coffee, and then another, and likely a third. I wouldn’t have eaten anything yet. I’d likely spend a lot of time indoors, binging Netflix or reading a novel. Possibly, I would do some household chores and rearrange the living room for the millionth time. Tomorrow I would do the same, just as this is what I did yesterday. Life became stale. I was complacent in my maximum isolation. So full of thoughts, and hopes, and desires, but not moving towards anything, just talking it in circles and writing down ideas.
This morning I had one cafe con leche and a ham and cheese sandwich. I packed my bag and I hit the road. I greeted others in kindness and compassion for our mutual journey and struggles up hills. I drank lots of water. I stopped and meditated in my surroundings, not concerned with those going past at faster speeds than I. I drank more water and ate a small muffin. I heard music and I stopped to sing along as the Guitarist played Stand By Me (Ben E. King). I encouraged myself to keep moving on the hills, but to stop, look around, and look up. I discovered that what I thought were dates were actually almonds. Who knew they grew on trees in green pods? I didn’t, nor did the three French women who showed it to me, explaining in French. I don’t speak French, but we understood each other all the same.
I found an old cistern on the top of a hill and I stopped to meditate again. Maybe someone took my picture, or they were just catching the view. Someone walked by and told me “Namaste”. I continued to meditate and breathe. When I opened my eyes everything was brighter, my sight was clearer. Even the ants on my bag didn’t ruin my day. I wondered why it is that I avoid meditating regularly. Is lack of peace such a comfortable place?
I arrived at my destination and felt as if I had not come far enough today, but I’m learning I must make myself pause, even when my body insists it can go further. I fed, cleaned, and embraced my body for its strength and resilience. I interact with others through smile and greeting, feeling akin. This is a life one cannot find binging netflix in the living room. I do believe this is a life we can find by stepping out our front door. There is no need to travel, though I highly encourage it. Seeing and experiencing other cultures gives us perspectives to grow and love better. I hope and believe that everyone can take their own journey and not only finds new ways to embrace life, but like I have on this trail, find that life is embracing you back.
My first hostel stay in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port was so nice. It was a little uncomfortable at first getting in the rhythm. Laura, the host, showed if I wished to be in a smaller room with just women. I gratefully accepted. My rooomie’s were Brigit (polish or German?) and two Spanish women – Rosa and Emparo (I think). The Spanish gals some English and eventually struck up conversation with me. Rosa teaches history in London and Emparo is from near Barcelona where she does administrative jobs, but is currently between jobs.
They had stayed an extra day in SJPDP before starting and had heard about a wine festival and asked if I wanted to go. This was French wine and food, straight local! It was delicious! The wine was definitely stronger than at home. For less than the price of a Quiktrip Hot Dog I was eating an octopus salad on a black roll. It was delicious!
My plan was to do 30km on Day 1 and they thought I was crazy. Everyone raised their eyebrows when I mentioned going to Espinal. If my stubbornness wasn’t so in control, it may have been a sign for what came later. I had also booked a room in Espinal, so it felt like I had no option to change my plans. In planning my initial week I had panicked on not having a place, so I booked rooms through Pamplona. Here was a great example of my need to control things… I hope my therapist reads this, she’ll laugh. I had also made the fatal flaw of letting my ego determine this first day would be easier than… well you’ll find out. My thought was “How hard can 3/4 miles elevation gain be over 7 miles?” Ha ha ha… (spoilers sweetie)
I started at 6am to get an early start. I woke up, felt ready, and was rearing to go. I got coffee and a croissant then hit the road. It was great at first. I saw the sun rise as I hiked out of the valley and above the clouds. From the moment I left SJPDP it was uphill. The city sits in a valley surrounded by the Pyrennes Mountains. The Pilgrims Office had given me a walk through of the trail, only offering the elevated route. It’s the one I wanted, but it is weird they didn’t offer the lower route.
The higher route is called Napoleon. There are two towns on this side of the mountain, Honto & Orisson. Honto barely gets a mention as it only has Albergues. Orisson was about 7km up and was the last stop for food before another 17km. There was also not another watering point till near the top, except for a “food truck.” I’d been told the food truck barely had anything and was near enough the water that there was no need for it. In Orisson I stopped for a cafe and basque cake (there is pudding in the middle). I also bought a bocadillo para llavar (sandwich to go). I used their toilet and then hit the road. I didn’t fill my water, which ended up being a bad idea. It was only 9am and the sun wasn’t fully up.
The view on the trail was so beautiful it made me cry tears of joy, at least for the first 12km. About 4km before Orisson my heel had developed a blister that got quite large before I stopped to treat it. I patched it up, but between the incline and my sweaty feet, the bandage kept sliding. I kept replacing it, but eventually the blister popped and tore. I went through most of my supply fixing it over and over. My whole body was also feeling the incline and the weight of my pack.
Around 11am I came to a beautiful lookout point. There was a statue of the Virgin Mary on top of large boulders. My legs were jelly and my sunscreen had stopped being effective. I dropped my pack and rested. It was extremely hot and the sun was high in the sky. I’d walked out of tree cover near Orisson. I aired out my feet and soaked socks. I knew i needed to go faster to reach Espinal before midnight. My feet weren’t happy though. I tried some yoga, but couldn’t find my balance. I threw on my flip-flops to walk a while and let my heel dry out.. i got about 3km before I started tripping on rocks. It was like I was drunk! At the food truck I put my hiking shoes back on and bought a coke and water. I had run out of water at this point and was afraid of how far the fountain might be. They said it was close, but this was nothing like I was expecting. It was a good decision as the watering point was several more kilometers on and up another ascent. I enjoyed my bocadillo, which had become a ham and cheese panini in my bag through the heat, with the coke. I drank the water in small sips as needed, just in case. It felt like being stranded in a desert. At one point i considered drinking the water from a creek, but it was all pasture, with a lot of sheep… so a lot of sheep poop in the creek I’m sure.
By this time my adventurous spirit was quickly being overcome by sunburn and exhaustion. I was so glad I was walking solo. This wasn’t a misery that wanted company. My self-talk turned for the worst and I was not at all kind to myself in my stubbornness and fear to finish the day.
At the fountain I was able to feel some renewal of my spirits as I drank deep. The water was refreshing and cold. My body still hurt, my soul felt renewed.
I picked up and kept moving, hoping I was getting close to the top. I figured, especially after this, that the downhill would be much easier. As I moved I began, or more often the sheep.
I pulled out the Lego man given to me, named him Boomer and proceeded to build his story.
Eventually even that couldn’t entertain me. I was back to this miserable place with a few “oh beautiful” moments mixed in. I had no choice but to keep going. my peace was getting slower and slower. I’d been lapped earlier by Rosa and Emparo. I reached a sign at the top of a hill which showed the different routes. I thought it was the top, however anticlimactic. It wasn’t. It was followed by a soft path through trees, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I saw no one on this path, but for some sheep and I started to wonder if I had picked the wrong path. In my exhaustion had I gone off trail? Getting actually lost when I’m trying to get lost is the story of my life. However, when I usually get lost I’m rarely this exhausted, resourceless, and in the French countryside.
My fears were alleviated as I rounded a bend to find horses frolicking (yes, frolicking) across the path and a handful of pilgrims taking naps in the shade. I too took a break, though there was no nap in store for me. In the words of Robert Frost: “These woods are lovely, farm, and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.”
I didn’t know if I would ever reach Espinal, but I needed this brief respite. It was like an act of grace, so green and friendly. The oasis in the desert. The horses were beautiful, playful, and free. There were several foals in the mix just enjoying being alive. I couldn’t have kept myself from smiling.
I had to go on though. When i reached the actual summit of Lepoeder, I couldn’t even bring myself to walk the 100ft to the very tip of it. I just wanted down off this fucking mountain. The descent was easier on my heels, but never ending. I knew I would never reach Espinal walking. I reset my expectation to stay upright and moving till Roncesvalles, another 7km yet.
My mental state was also exhausted. It had tried so hard to keep me motivated. It sang songs, did math, told stories, and even planned things for the nonprofit I’m building. Though I can’t recall those ideas now, lol. It even tried to clear itself and mediate while walking. All of these things started to get jumbled in my mind. Spanish words started to get mixed in, and I kept mumbling to myself. I debated how to ask and call for help in Spanish. I wondered if I was suicidal, but no, I only wanted to go home. I’m not the same person I was when I bought these tickets, desperate to find something to hold on to. I wanted to give up. What was so important that I needed to be here and not with the on ness I love?
I kept picking up one foot after another. A French girl said hello and that we only had 3k. To Roncesvalles. I told her I was going on to Espinal. She asked why looking concerned and I blurted out “BECAUSE I’M DUMB!” She looked shocked. I had to keep moving, or I felt I may never move again. I felt the breakdown (definitely not a spiritual awakening) coming on. I was too tired for it. I just needed to get off the mountain. I lost the trail at some point and ended up on a road. It was descending, so I kept following it. I think it added an extra kilometer. I didn’t care anymore. Everything in me had turned off and my feet were using all the energy I had left. Well my feet and the fact I’d needed a toilet for 7km. It wasn’t the act of going in the woods that was the problem, it was the need to pack out my refuse, I hadn’t remembered to get baggies. You can’t bury or burn your bathroom trash.
I finally reconnected with the path and could see the Monastery in Roncesvalles through the trees. As I cleared the trees it was like walking into a different world. There were clean happy pilgrims hanging laundry and lounging about. I imagine my relief was selections to that off people traveling long distances before technology. The sweet release of connection. I entered the monastery and they offered me a bed, which I was gladly hoping to accept. Then I realized I did not have enough Euros and right then they ran out of beds anyway. So in a confusion of people, language, and expression I called a taxi.
They’re was no public restroom and the taxi was an hour away. I sat outside and tried to silently cry it out. This isn’t what I expected. I thought I was better prepared and had failed those expectations of myself. I even looked up how to change my flight home. The Taxi call had forced me to turn my cell service on, so I made the best of that connection. I did not change my flight. I did check in with home, to remember that I’m not alone. My people still exist!
Taking the Taxi to Espinal speed 6km of the trail, which doesn’t bother me in the least. This was self-care. Hostal Rural Haizea was very welcoming. It was a perfect place to be after such a hard day. After a shower I napped and felt a little better. At dinner none of the pilgrims spoke English, so it was a silent night for me.
I had walked 18.27 miles according to my phone. The map said it was 24km (roughly 14mi). The thing I learned last year was the inconsistency in the distances from different sources.
I will have better takeaways and lessons when I’m not in the midst of exhaustion. I know this was important and I’ll keep trying, but for now, today just needs to end. Day 1 complete.
Dear, brave, heart, the world is not what you expect of it.
Expectations, are not what you believe of them. They are things which are made up. Expectations are living creatures that creep up on you from the shadows and lay out a specific path for you to follow. These creatures crawl around on many legs, with many forms, and many virtues. They strive to control the person you desire to be. Expectations as they live and breathe are movable things, they are fluid, and they can be rejected. Their master is those who create them, and their slave is those who follow them. For the person who understands what in their life they can control, they will be both master and slave. They will create the creature that lays their path.
Sometimes, people yell at you, when you do not deserve to be yelled at. These are the moments when others force their expectations upon you, and they feel you fail to deliver on their creations. They desire to be the master and the expectation their muse. As master and muse they crave a slave and creation. They desire a puppet that cowers to tone and volume of their yell. All the while, they do not realize what it is they are a slave to themselves. For not a single master is not also a slave to expectations. So stay brave, dear heart. For if you know what you control, then they cannot enslave you.
Sometimes, you take a step too far past the line of respect. No matter how brave a heart may be or how much they try a heart may fail with the best of intentions. Life is a progress, not a perfection. However, there are hearts that are not as brave and loving as you are, dear one. There are hearts full of shadows, scratching claws, and gnashing teeth. They wear masks and try to fool us. They do not have the best of intentions. They walk the line of respect looking for a foothold, for a thinning of the line, where they might cross. We must be wary and watchful for hearts such as these that shed not love and instead seek to lessen us. For a heart so brave and true, you know what you can control.
Sometimes, you cannot go back on your actions. This is a thing you can control dear one. However, you can choose new ones. You can choose to change how your body moves and if it hurts or heals yourself and others. Hindsight is often known to be the clearest form of sight, but it is not a vision which can be undone. You must find strength to make new choices on your actions. Promote a world where you can be who you are, and where others expectations are not your master. So no, you cannot change the past, but you can improve the future. By choosing the way in which you reach out and touch the world you can become even braver dear heart, this you can control.
Sometimes, an attitude gets in the way. Attitudes are controllable when we are paying attention to ourselves, dear one. Emotions and thoughts can spin us around like a top on a table which falls off the edge and clatters to the floor. They affect our actions. They affect our attitudes. We feel so spun up and out of control and wrapped in our own yo-yo yarn that we forget the way in which we can control our lives. Believe in something that you struggle to see, dear heart, your own ability. Allow that to untangle you. You choose how to show what is going on inside of you. You can determine what others see in you. Shine with vulnerability, honesty, and compassion. Let your attitude be not one of division, but one of humanity and equality. Let it be an attitude of love for yourself and others. Dear heart, this will be hard, but you are brave.
Sometimes, they love you when you do not deserve to be loved. What an odd thought, dear one. That you would think yourself unworthy of being loved by another, perchance for no other reason than because it is good and right to do so. Love is a sparrow that flies across the sky to the destination which it most desires. It is difficult for us to control the flight of a wild sparrow in search of its’ chosen destination. Being loved is not up to us, if we are loved, then we deserve to be loved. It is not a gift which once given can be given back. Though, there are times that you take love back. We control our own sparrows so full of love and the destination in which we desire them to land. Do not shy away from the multitude of sparrows in your heart waiting to soar to the farthest reaches or the coldest shores. For loving is about giving unto others, for no other reason than you desire to. Dear, brave, heart, I hope you soar.
Always, you should set your own expectation to move forward. You should look for what you truly control in your life, and that which you cannot. You should follow your dreams, dear heart. You should take to the sky and continue going until your life becomes one in which you know you are safe and loved. A bird in a storm does not give up, but takes shelter for the moment. Emotions come and go, so do people. Both can be equally overpowering. Dear heart, you know what you can control. The strength in your being with each beat of your muscles continues without thought. This is why you move forward, why you keep learning, and why you can make choices in your life.
The world can be cruel and will most definitely throw wrenches into the gears of your life. Sometimes, you may wonder how to end these wrenches in life that tear you up and sometimes stop your functions. You can’t my dear, brave, heart, you just cannot. It is as much a fact as gravity on earth. There are things in life which you can control, and this is just not one of those things. These other things which you can control will be the difference between a life where you are whole and overflowing or a life where you are less than you might desire because the wrenches took control. A life of greatness awaits you, my dear, brave, heart.
In all the things that you control, just remember the basic rules. Always, if it hurts you or another, stop, turn back, reject that direction. Otherwise be you, and expect others to be them, my dear, brave, heart. Go now, walk on, take flight, and soar. Take Heart, so dear and brave.
I received the fortune pictured here while out with my coworkers for the monthly Birthday lunch at Bo Ling’s in Kansas City. The food was fine, but this fortune was even more memorable: “Remember three months from this date! Your lucky star is shining.” For 3 months I have had this sitting on my desk, reminding me of the future to come. Every once in a while I would tell my coworkers the date that this fortune should come true and we would imagine what the day would hold. I think my coworkers thought it was a joke at first when I said I was marking my calendar for 3 months from October 11, 2016. They had only known me a month and they rapidly found out that I am a high-spirited very-imaginative free spirit.
As the 3 month date drew closer I kept asking what people thought would happen. At this point I had dressed up as multiple characters for work and randomly brought sweet treats and gifts. We were all hoping for something spectacular to come on January 11, 2017. Secretly in my head I was conspiring to meet the love of my life and get married or come by some windfall that sets me up for my career. I imagined being gifted something exciting or getting a raise. I thought maybe something special would happen at work, or we would find an answer for a client that solved their problems right away.
So I woke up on January 11, 2017 and as I performed my new morning ritual with an extra bounce in my step I applied make-up, which is not often a work day task. I packed my lunch, made my cup of coffee, and made sure I was wearing pants (I may occasionally almost go to work in PJs). I drove to work listening to Tribe by Sebastian Junger, which is quite inspiring. My day started off with clients that are looking to improve their lives and working alongside some coworkers that I think are just fantastic. My AmeriCorps partner was wearing an outfit similar to mine. I only now regret not taking a photo together to show off. I had a lot of things to accomplish today and not too heavy of a schedule. As time went by I accomplished much, but time was going slow. My partner and I did our regular team download and brain storming (aka Coffee Run). We all ate lunch together and problem solved together. We laughed together and we joked about what was so special to come. Our supervisor was out of the office today, but that never makes much difference, so that didn’t seem too special.
I even showed this note to the cashier
As the day wore on the team consensus was that I needed to play the lotto. The thing about that is that I have only ever played the lotto one other time and I was super embarrassed when I had to ask how it worked at the gas station as I bought the ticket. I have always earned my luck, it’s rarely been just handed to me. So my co-workers were kind enough to explain the process and then upon seeing my still confused face they wrote down specifically what I was supposed to ask the gas station attendant for. I said that I would hold the note and read it verbatim. That is exactly what I did.
In addition to the normal work day I trouble shot some travel details for a Team Rubicon Applied Suicide Intervention Skills Training that we have coming up soon in Omaha. The task was stressful, but came out perfectly because team work makes the dream work and I love my TRibe. I chatted with a guy on Tinder that seems really nice, funny, and has great eyes! I felt good in my body because it’s Day 11 of not smoking. My apartment is clean, I rode the stationary bike (finally), and I took the time to meditate. I have said my prayers and read some books. I even treated myself to a delicious pizza. I used a new face wash that makes my face feel so soft.
So here I am, 30 minutes till the end of January 11th and I don’t think that as I crawl into bed anything really spectacular or different than usual will occur.
For $8 all together I let my imagination hope for something big to happen
The results for the Power Ball and the Missouri Lotto came out and I did not win at either. The gas station attendant had pointed out that if I had brought the fortune we would use the numbers on the backside. I left the actual slip of paper at my office. Tomorrow, just for fun, I will compare the winning numbers to those on my fortune. I also played a scratcher, and won nothing. What I find all the more amazing is that nothing matched, not a single number, on any of them. I suppose if luck is real and there is a zombie apocalypse I will be the first bitten.
But as I said, I have never just been given luck, I have always worked for it. I am not disappointed however in how today turned out. With the new year I have been dreaming of adventures in foreign places doing new things. This yearning was not fulfilled today, but in looking for my shining star I paid close attention to every aspect of my day. This allowed me to really invest in myself and my actions to try and make every moment the best possible moment. This is the idea behind setting goals, and we just need to believe it with as much imagination as me and my coworkers paid attention to January 11th.
Everyday can be a metaphorical January 11th because we can make it that way. The things I listed that happened today I was able to find great amounts of gratitude for them, knowing that in reality it was unlikely I would win the lotto tonight. I have hope for great things in my life, and you know what? I am going to keep this fortune on my desk and set a note in my calendar for 3 months from today. I don’t think my lucky star will ever stop shining, because I work hard for it, but… just in case… I will “Remember 3 months from today.” I will dream, I will hope, I will imagine, and I will keep making my own luck.
Make your own fortune and mark the calendar. What are you going to hope for? What are you going to work towards to create your own luck? I know you can do it! Good Luck!
We are all familiar with the question, “On a scale of 1–10, 10 being the worst pain you’ve ever felt, where is your pain right now?” It is commonly asked by health care providers, even if you’re at a 0. I live at a 3 most days, maybe a 2 if I’m lucky. If I’m unlucky I’m at a 6 or an 8, or stuck in bed or on my floor at a 10. It’s been this way since 2009, when I was in Iraq. My best guess is months of wear and tear just broke something so my shoulder doesn’t work right. There was no significant trauma, oh how I wish there had been.
I’ve been poked and prodded for 7 years. I’ve tried medication and physical therapy. I’ve had test after test. I’ve cried in offices as doctors proclaim that my tests show completely normal, and sometimes really great for someone my age. They’re tears of frustration that I feel the need to explain or apologize for. I wish they would find something wrong.
This pain interferes with my life. I want to feel better, so I spend time at the VA trying to discover what’s going on. It takes a lot out of me to go to the doctor so often. To put myself through tests over and over. To be on medication that helps me forget the pain, as well as everything else, including what I want to order at dinner, 30 seconds after making a decision.
As each specialist tells me they can’t help I look at them with tears in my eyes and ask that they keep trying. I’m only 29, I shouldn’t live in this much pain. It starts in my shoulder blade and effects my whole left arm and shoulder. It often effects my whole back. I’m amazingly strong they say, but it hurts to make the motions to prove my strength.
My pain presents in many ways, even in my imagination.
I was looking forward to Thanksgiving with my family coming to visit. I knew it would be a busy few days, but I’d cleaned and prepped and was ready. Then I woke up on Thanksgiving day to go get them at the airport and my 3 was a 6 with every movement and every breathe. It didn’t get better as the day went on, but I shouldered through (pun intended).
I thought that a good night’s sleep would help. I took my forgetting medication (gabapentin) and tried to forget and to sleep. It didn’t work, I awoke to a 10, feeling crippled. I breathed through it, took my forgetting meds, and prayed I would forget. I forgot except when I tried to check traffic as I drove. I forgot except when I tried to breathe or moved too quickly. In 7 years I’ve gotten used to breathing and moving carefully, but then the forgetting medication makes me forget to be careful.
I found that I spent too much time complaining about my pain, so I don’t mention it, as much, when my hand goes numb or it hurts to breathe. I try to not mention it when I’m having a bad day and can’t get out of bed, or I’m so distracted by it while sitting at my desk at work. I don’t want people to be absorbed with my pain scale, because I don’t want to be absorbed with my pain scale. I don’t want my physical injury to have anymore control over me than I do my mental injuries. So I try to not mention it. I still want people to care though, so I don’t feel alone in my pain, with my demons.
The reason I mention it now is because this thanksgiving, despite the pain, I am very thankful. My family is incredible, and they will listen to me complain and talk about my pain.
My TENS Unit (Electrical Stimulation) Angel.
They will discuss remedies and help me place my TENS unit that I can’t put on correctly by myself. They’ll place the lidocaine patches just so in order to provide the most help. They’ll claim sympathy pains alongside me. They rub my back and carry heavy bags. They do what they can to make me feel better.
I also think about everything I’ve learned in 7 years. I know so much about the human body that it made me a great EMT. I helped people feel better, even if my own pain is mysterious. I’ve learned to set boundaries and to care for myself to try and not cause more pain. I’ve learned it the hard way with chainsaws that cause my muscles to scream and people who now help me not feel compelled to pick up a chainsaw. Being in pain has made me lean on my friends and family for help, and I believe that has made us closer than if I were not injured. It has insisted I give more trust to doctors than I feel I should.
It helps me be grateful for the fact I’m alive. I think about selectively numbing things, if I had no pain, I’d have no pleasure. I think the medication I take to forget makes me funnier, just as much as it embarrasses me. I may be in pain when I breathe, but I’m breathing. I may lay in bed or on my floor for a while when it really hurts, but I have a bed and a floor under a roof.
I think about how when I’m in pain but wanting to still function I can pull it together for minutes at a time to keep going and enjoy my life. How I can accept the pain to feel the pleasure and to control my life instead of the pain controlling me. How I can breathe through it and be more conscious of my body when it hurts. It allows me to work harder to listen to my body.
Yes, I would prefer to live without pain, but I won’t let it control me. I have learned to deal with it, to still be functional and valuable in my disaster relief work. To be honest, open, and transparent with my capabilities and my struggles. For my weakness and my pain I become stronger. For this I am very very thankful.
We should accept our reality, our pain, and our struggle. It does not mean we give up looking for answers and solutions, but it means that we choose to win. We can make the choice to be thankful even in the roughest moments. I am thankful that I can do this, and I am thankful that I can share this with you. I hope it inspires you push through and be thankful even in the depths of pain.
