I’m no theologian. I’m no philosopher. I’m no scholar. But I am a human being and am familiar with the concept of suffering. Maybe too familiar. There’s a popular meme circulating the Interwebz: “Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes the reason is that you’re stupid and you make bad decisions.”

I have hideously brilliant blogging friends who have greater insight, wisdom, writing ability, and insights that I could ever hope to attain. But what I do have going for me is that I’m relentlessly in pursuit of authenticity. That means that I hold myself accountable for my shitty decisions and talk about them in the hopes that by me admitting my blunders (1) other people feel more comfortable being authentic, realizing that others struggle, too, and (2) I hold myself accountable publicly (well, as public as this blog is! Lol).

The thing about suffering is that it sucks. It just plain sucks. It may be God’s way to get my attention, and it surely works, but does it have to be so damn painful?

It’s been over a month since I found out about the betrayal of my once-trusted companion, G. There was a little communication here and there, but that’s since ended. It’s been quiet, and in that quiet come the tears. It’s not that I’m constantly weeping or sad, but there are moments each day that I still re-remember the betrayal and the sting is still palpable. While my ex-husband and I had *many* issues, a betrayal like this is new to me. I’ve never experienced deceit this thoroughly and this consistently. It’s kinda rocked my world.

I asked my therapist how I’m supposed to get through this pain because, especially initially, it felt overwhelming and suffocating. She told me, “Well, Jen, I suppose a little bit at a time. You can’t feel it all at once. That will overwhelm you. You do it bit by bit, when you’re able, and then you put it back in the box and on the shelf until the next time you can feel a little bit of the pain.” It’s like that old joke: How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.

I don’t want to write about this. I don’t want to fucking THINK about this. But that’s exactly what I did with my mom’s death and all that did was send me into a spiral of depression/suicidality for years. And while this is in no way comparable to losing a parent like that, it’s still a mourning process, and I still have to move through it. While I did nothing to deserve the deceit that I was dealt, I played my part in this relationship. It’s the same damn part that I’ve been playing my whole life.

My mom called me her “little ray of sunshine”. A therapist called me “Tigger”. Multiple persons in mental health have talked about the mask I wear which is in direct contrast to the severe depression that, at times, plagues me. There’s a theme there: I like happy things. I like being happy. I like smiling. I like laughing. I do not like suffering. I do not like pain. I do not like admitting things are not perfect or good or at least have the CAPACITY/POTENTIAL to be good.

Ay, there’s the rub: my undying belief in life’s potential coupled with my penchant for denial. That combination has lead me to stay in unhealthy relationships. More than once. More than twice. With partners and with family. With friends and with neighbors. I absolutely love that I believe people have the capacity to change, learn, and grow. I’d be a crappy psychiatric nurse without that belief. However, that belief in conjunction with my love of denial has allowed me to accept some pretty unacceptable behavior. We say it in the mental health field all the time: The best predictor for future behavior is past behavior. Objectively, I know this to be true. You wouldn’t know it by my actions!

I’m forty-freaking-four years old. It’s time to start trusting my gut. It’s time to start paying attention to that little whisper that says, “Something isn’t right.” I’ve ignored that voice for YEARS and you know what that’s brought me? Pain. Suffering. More pain. More suffering. The sad fact is that some of this suffering has been unnecessary. I could’ve avoided a fair amount of the pain in my life if I’d just listened to the whispers of my gut. My heart is an idiot and my brain overthinks …. But my gut? It’s right on.

To be clear: there is a difference between my suffering being unnecessary versus my suffering being pointless. Because pointless suffering is, to me, the absolute tragedy. To go through pain and heartbreak AND to learn nothing? I can’t imagine much worse.

Sigh. Says the girl who keeps making the same mistakes. Lol. At least I’m consistent!