I am at something of a loss for what to write this morning. I have a bit of brain fog from my migraine medication lingering. Migraines are crushing pain and I don't wish them on anyone. When in the grips of one, I tend to hide in a dark room and whimper in pain until I pass out. It was worse before the doctor gave me this medicine, for which I am deeply thankful.
One of the things that having a migraine brings up in my thoughts is how it connects me to the suffering of Anna. Or perhaps how it connects Anna to my suffering. It's a puzzle to phrase and difficult to fully describe, but I am going to try. Our Lady, especially through the season of Moura, passes through suffering to bring us reunion with Déa. Every pain we have ever known, she knows and feels with a keenness of a knife.
Physical pain, emotional pain, psychological pain, and spiritual pain all are on equal footing. Pain is pain and no one gets to say that it is more or less valid given the type of pain one is suffering. The culture around us encourages us to compare our sufferings and try to rank them in degrees of greatness. This unhealthy competitiveness has broken many relationships and caused a good deal of harm. By simply accepting that suffering is an integral part of being alive and attempting to meet it with compassion where ever it is found helps us in our struggles with life.
The hardest place to meet suffering with compassion is when it comes to our own suffering. I tend to meet my suffering with bitter anger and sharp self criticism. I was raised to view my own suffering with scorn. It has taken me many years to be more compassionate with myself. I fail on a regular basis at this skill. I have some doubt that I will reach a level of acceptance that I can endure pain with out self flagellation. I know that there are many, many other people who struggle with this same skill set.
This is where I look to Anna. I place my suffering in her hands and ask for her to help me bear it. Asking for help is perhaps as hard for me as being compassionate towards myself. It is not a matter of pride as much as a delusion of worthlessness. It is easy to feel like you are worthy of love and compassion when all things are well. It is a lot harder when you are suffering.
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