When I was in middle school I experienced my first relationship break up. After 3 weeks, she said, “I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore.”
I was crushed and I cried for a good few hours. What helped me to feel better… was telling stories in my mind about how she wasn’t a good person. I had to justify my pain somehow, I had to find a reason why I hurt so badly.
My friend saw that I was hurting and asked why? Did I tell him that I was confused about reality and was chasing illusions, and hurt myself in the process? No, I didn’t; I had no such awareness. Rather, I shared stories with him about this terrible person who broke up with me. Painting a very clear picture of how she was at fault for my pain.
In my pain, I even made up wild stories and exaggerated other ones, in order to ‘save face’, so I wouldn’t look bad, so I wouldn’t look so ‘out of control’. However, at the time, it didn’t seem like I was doing that, I felt rather justified in the stories I told. I had convinced myself of something that made sense, it just wasn’t true. However, in my pain, I didn’t care about what was true, I only saw what I saw, and that was my pain.
I relished in the support of my friend, which turned into support from more friends. A group, a tribe to agree with me, someone to validate how I felt and comfort my wounds. Also, someone to help me get revenge, to get justice. We strategized on how to get back at her, to make her pay for what she did to me. All in agreement that this would solve my pain.
Oh the rumors we could spread, the things we could say, the pain we could make her feel so she knew just had badly she hurt me.
No, it didn’t solve my pain. It helped me hide from it while projecting it onto someone else. I kept running into that damn pain everywhere I went, taking it into my next relationship, and watching it play out there in different ways.
Eventually, I had a “holy shit” moment. Realizing, that my pain had absolutely nothing do with these other people. This pain was a frighten ego who couldn’t find anything to hold on to, anything to truly call my own. My pain was my own confusion. In that clarify, I saw how all those people I blamed, were actually… helping me see the truth.
Just by them being them, by them being uncapturable, by them not having what I wanted, by them not doing what I wanted, was the perfect teacher for me to wake up from the illusion of my pain, from the illusion of me chasing and blaming.
What I find to be so fascinating **in my own experience** is how, when in pain, the ego looks for survival, it doesn’t look for the truth. In its quest for survival, it will say just about anything to avoid taking responsibility for the pain being experienced inside itself.
When the ego sees that the pain was self-created, it is the end of the ego as a real thing. The ego survives on the idea that it’s someone else’s fault for it not being real, for it not being seen, for it not being validated.
I can’t help but bow to all the experiences of pain I’ve had. To see them clearly, they’ve all been invitations to awaken from the illusion of my imaginary self-importance, as if Life was about me getting something in the future, or completing an image of myself.
It was never about me, it was for me; it was me creating the whole damn drama, so I could wake up from the dream and see what’s actually happening. Life invites me to see beyond my self-idea, my self-protection, and see what’s actually true, what’s actually real.