A place for a


Intolerable pain will make you a tolerable person


I have lost my appetite. The reward of however tasty food does not justify the pain of opening my mouth. That’s okay. The pulsating and sometimes cutting sensation in my ear lets me sense my heart beats. They sound like distant waves on a beach; a pulsating hiss behind my teeth.

On a somewhat official scale from zero to 10, I define my pain as a 7 or 8. 7 is called “Very Intense”, while 8 is called “Utterly Horrible”. Fucking funny names, eh? They make me laugh. It’s a somewhat uncanny laugh, like that from a movie psychopath; my neighbors have been hearing that a lot lately since I got tired of crying.

Sometimes I scream, but for the most part my body has given up the protest. I am chill. Sometimes the pain strikes hard and I lose control, my body demanding to let it out. I do let it happen; I cry, scream, sob. Then I wait for the pain level to come down to normal and continue writing. I can’t focus enough to do any meaningful work, but that’s okay. Who ever said that accepting reality makes you supersede it.

Time goes by, minute after minute. I have given up watching the clock.

It’s impossible to ignore the pain. I feel it, yet I do not think about it anymore. Do not think about the injustice. My mind has long refused to hold on to ideas that make the torture even more intolerable. I am calm.

Lying around doing nothing only makes it worse, but I am too tired to use my mind for anything else. Can’t sleep.

I remember the onset of the pain. Me, the hero, had decided to take it on all alone. No painkiller. No help. My spoiled child’s mind had mindlessly craved my mothers caress, her chicken soup, her pity at which she was so good. I had fought the wish until I couldn’t fight.

Couldn’t fight because the state I was in was becoming unbearable. Fighting means to be on alert. Fatigue, stress. Cortisol floods the body. After about two days, I felt depleted, the whole of my body felt gray and dead. There was nothing to fight, nothing to be won. And within a timeframe of a few hours, I would helplessly watch my mind reprogram itself.

Negative, combative thoughts I had been having for months were purged. Compassion for myself and other people in harsh situations started to be present. The wish to cling to my mother gently subsided. The drug addict in me who had craved food and, desperately, women, became quiet. Bodily pleasures lost their overarching appeal since whatever happiness they had promised me, they would not be able to provide now. If I had to choose between being pain-free and having all the women in the world, I would blindly choose the former.

The pain didn’t go away, but the stress did.

Think about it. Being negative puts you in a superior state at times. It feels comfortable, ironically. But not in the long run. Be in a state of alert for long enough and you will not decide, but be forced to give in and think past short-term pleasure. You will be forced to think of good things. You will, suddenly, not feel empty.

I am suggesting you to try this. I am certain that most confident men are used to this. Nevermind that.

Next time you have a bad headache or something almost unbearable, don’t kill it. Let your mind learn the language of your body. And it will be a curious experience for you may not be used to actually feeling pain for extended periods of time without even intending to or being able to still it. My mother always had some pills; this woman has robbed me of knowing my own body. Anyway. For the horrid displeasure it may be, it will make you a wiser man. It will make you appreciate the hardships of fellow humans and it may put into context cravings for women. Don’t know for how long. Time will tell.

That doesn’t mean don’t see your doctor.

Does it not make total sense that people who grow up in harsh circumstances will develop mental resilience and fortitude against all hardships of life? That their confidence will be unshaken in the face of everyday inconveniences?

On my trip to Peru, I met Peter Gorman, an apparently famous author. He offered me to try Sapo Frog poison. I did. He said it feels like dying and to a certain extent, I agree. But it only lasts 15 minutes. Long enough to break my constructed self-image of being tough, not long enough to do it thoroughly.

Peter Gorman has a big gaping wound on his lower right leg – flesh eating bacteria. He said he was taking dozens of Ibuprofens every day just to be able to bear it. I have never met a man who was so calm and strong. Look at the second video in the linked petition; listen to his tone of voice. I am not claiming to know that this serenity came from him being in a lot of pain – hearsay suggests that he always had been a strong person. He was a real man and I enjoyed being around him – despite the fact that I wasn’t able to show it due to my anger.

My perception is a steady stream of thoughts and feelings, good and bad, coming and going. I’m not holding on anymore. Will this prevail? Who knows.

Have you had an experience like this, when your mind would simply be forced into positivity? Tell me.

1 vote
  • Jack Turner

    Love it, email me at Jackrhionturnerempire@gmail.com i’d love to create a dialogue between us!

  • Wald

    The more pain you endure, the more you can take. When you take more than you ever thought you could endure, anything less feels comfortable in comparison.

    I imagine a lot of “coming of age” ceremonies are full of pain, more, in theory, than the boy has ever experienced in his life. Then, when he thinks it will never end, when he thinks he will die before he endures another second, it’s over. While he wouldn’t do it again, he realizes, he could, if need be. This belief, unshakeable, forms a core confidence that nought can take away from him. Now he is a Man.


    • The next best thing I did to that was a frog poison ritual. I actually ordered some kambo sticks to do it at home. It is quite an experience. Afterwards, you feel elated and cleansed and like you want to jump around and do something. Everything is vibrating and intense.

      If I ever get the chance, I want to do this ritual:

      • Wald

        That looks extremely painful.

        Seen that video once before.


        • During my second frog poison ceremony, I cried like that. I felt completely and utterly alone. No father to watch out for me, so to speak. No love in the darkness. Today, I think I am better prepared to tackle it, with god, which is why I want to do it again.

  • Micah Geni

    There is def. a point in this. Though it is a sensitive subject. Mainly because it can be used to justify traumas into children. “I did it for your own good”. blah blah.
    The better way to induce trauma-learning, is to let kids play, and have accidents. To accept that accidents may not be the end of the world. On the contrary, they can be life inducing.