Walking Through Pain: The Path to Transformation

Our minds—and even more so, our bodies—instinctively seek to avoid pain. Built-in mechanisms, created by a higher intelligence beyond our own, work autonomously to protect us from repeating painful experiences. As babies, we quickly learn that "hot" hurts. The mere sensation of heat causes us to pull our hands away, avoiding the pain of burning skin on a stove or a curling iron. We are wired for self-preservation, flinching at even the sight of another’s pain as if we were experiencing it ourselves.

So it is with emotional pain. We learn to shut down, avoid intimacy, guard our hearts, and keep our suffering inside—all in an attempt to avoid heartbreak. Whether it's the crushing weight of grief or the subtle sting of a memory, we treat emotional pain like a physical wound, something to be avoided at all costs.

Some of us have become so skilled at avoidance that when an uncomfortable emotion arises, we no longer recognize it. Instead, it manifests in sickness, chronic pain—migraines, fibromyalgia, back pain—or even in depression. It’s easy to dismiss these as purely physical conditions, ignoring the emotional wounds and karmic paths we are meant to navigate.

When we finally recognize the emotional aspects of our pain, we seek healers—physical therapists, massage therapists, chiropractors, doctors, psychologists—to help us release what we have carried for so long. Yet, at the edge of breakthrough, our instincts tell us to retreat, to protect ourselves from the discomfort of grief, guilt, or self-loathing. But what is truly more painful? Living with its manifestations, or facing it head-on—trusting in another, processing our emotions, and allowing ourselves to cry?

To really cry. Not just a tear or two, but the deep, gut-wrenching sobs of someone who has lost everything, who has regrets deeper than blood, who has taken life and had innocence taken from them. The kind of crying that feels like being punched in the gut, gasping for air under a crushing weight. This pain—the raw, spiritual, and physical anguish—is also the birthplace of transformation. It is where empathy is born, where purpose emerges, where we learn to channel our suffering into service for others.

It isn’t the weak or broken who embark on this journey. It is the brave. The courageous. The heroes. The ones willing to look in the mirror and see both their flaws and their light, to acknowledge the pain they’ve endured and inflicted, to uncover what in them still seeks to shine.

This is how we grow. This is how we serve. This is how we fulfill our purpose in this world of duality. Not by becoming bitter, but by walking through the bitterness. Not by avoiding pain, but by moving through it and emerging on the other side with peace, forgiveness, joy, and gratitude.

It takes unwavering bravery to face your fears, your past, your misconceptions. But most of all, it takes unconditional love—for yourself.

Walk through the pain. Dive into the cold, uncomfortable waters. You will experience pain again and again in life, but each time, you will emerge stronger. Without pain, your joys, your pleasures, your love, and your peace would not shine as brightly.

If you find someone who can walk through the pain with you, or trigger emotions you didn’t even recognize, stay with it. Work through it. Let it go. Be grateful.

This is why we are here—to help each other, to be vulnerable, to be open. It’s easy to stand by someone in moments of joy. The true gift is finding someone who will sit with you in sorrow, pain, and disappointment.

After lifetimes of trauma, how do we begin to break down the walls around our hearts and allow light, love, and joy back in?

We are meant to live in joy. That is our natural state.

This is why, even after heartbreak, disappointment, and loss, we still seek happiness. Beneath the hardened layers, we are all sweetness. We are unconditional love. We are excitement, curiosity, and childlike wonder. The simple joys—a sunset, an apple, the smell of fresh bread—are still within us, waiting to be rediscovered.

We owe it to ourselves. By healing, we do not just free ourselves—we break cycles of pain that have been passed down for generations. Start small. Start slow. Keep going.

You will feel overwhelmed. You will want to quit, to hide, to return to the comfort of the known. But stay. Trudge through the mud. Find the light again.

I dare you.