Owning My Suffering

For most of my life I have taken my suffering out on others, mainly the ones who love me most, like my mother for a very long time, and then my husband, as well. We hurt the people closest to us; they are the only ones who tend to take it. I didn’t really know this until this past year. Only recently have I become aware just how much I have made others suffer for my emotional turmoil.

Just because I became aware of this doesn’t mean I stopped doing it, regrettably. However, I did become more aware of the aftermath; it was exhausting. The hurt feelings, the damaging words, the guilt and shame, followed by regret. I was feeling more and more like a monster, and not at all like the gentle woman that I longed to be. But I couldn’t seem to help myself. That was until I read the following sentence by Byron Katie:

Your suffering is never caused by the person you’re blaming.

I let that sit with me for a moment, then cried tears of shame, regret and sadness for how I had made my husband and mother suffer for so many things that they were in no way responsible for. I realized I had been blaming or taking out my pain on them for 90% of my suffering, when in reality they were responsible for far less.

The statement stayed with me and I spent more time thinking about the true causes of my suffering, which is a difficult thing to do. Then one day I was really upset; I was feeling great sadness and fear and confusion and I couldn’t stop crying. My husband wrapped his arms around me and this would usually be the moment I would lash out at him. Even in that moment, I pinpointed it; I felt the heat rise within me and tasted the tinge of insults on my tongue. But instead of blaming and attacking him; instead of projecting my pain onto him, I let him hold me and I cried into his chest and let my body wrack with sobs.

When my sobs subsided and I felt all cried out and tired, I sat down on my bed. I had a private moment and I realized that for perhaps the very first time I had owned my suffering.

I wasn’t left sitting there feeling the need to apologize for hurtful words, or feeling guilty, or left with an angry husband in the other room. There was no hurricane of rage and therefore no aftermath. I owned my pain, and I actually felt better having owned it and cried it out. It was a tremendous empowering, enlightening moment.

But change is slow, and these things take practice. It is amazing when you can see that practice pay off little by little. Already, my world is a more peaceful place at times, since I am learning to keep the storm contained within and not blame others for my suffering.

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