I've hurt. Everyone has. We have all experienced some degree of physical pain.
I once subjected myself to an experience meant to cause physical pain. My legs shook. My face tingled. I felt hot all over. I neither cried nor howled; I did not lose conciousness. I just felt that voluntary pain for a prescribed moment in time. Then it was over. It was passing.
Beyond that one experience, to date, thank goodness, I have never experienced a physical pain powerful enough to provoke an extreme reaction. I may hurt for a particular moment in time to a finite degree. Then it's over. It is always passing.
My experience with emotional pain is so incredibly different that it's almost amusing. I have felt emotional pain that left me reeling for days, weeks, months on end. I know it when it's sharp, chronic, and exacerbated. I have experienced emotional pain that took the sun out of the sky, did away with the stars and moon, and made hope and better seem like fairy-tale intangibles. Recovery was make-believe.
Yes, I know emotional pain provocative enough to cause wailing. I cried myself to sleep. I sobbed while bargaining with God. "Can this be over? I don't want to feel again." I cursed morning when it came. I cursed the chemical composition of my brain. I mourned life and breath. In the darkest hours, I contemplated the relief of death; on more than one occasion I became a threat to myself.
I've hurt enough to know that pain is subjective. It's not easily measured and varies based on perspectives. Yes, we all know what it's like to experience pain, but no two experiences are the same. Maybe generosity includes offerings of acknowledgement and compassion for the singularity of every experience, each other's unique and valuable feelings. Maybe this is integral to our collective healing.
