Recently, I was exposed to a side of me that was new and frightening. A side I wasn’t quite aware I possessed. Unknown. Hidden. Lurking. It just snuck up on me. A little exciting. A little bit sinister.
It was that dance between pain and pleasure. That intricate web between finding yourself. And losing yourself. It was a journey of self discovery.
While purchasing all the groceries I desired at my local big box grocer, I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in the bottom of my left foot. Intense. Insistent. Incontrovertible.
I had to stop. A momentary pause to quiet the gasp that nearly escaped. A brief sojourn from the dizzying, electric shock that coursed through me.
It felt as though my soul was being eviscerated by a thousand million blades, each with a million little jagged edges, beveled to a razor point.
I knew instantly that it was the work of a hardened, stone-faced being.
I knew I couldn’t crush it. That I would have to find a way to release it from within.
But I didn’t. Not immediately.
Even though the unyielding pain surged with every left foot strike to the hard, polished grocery store floor.
Conflicted, I knew I should stop and seek resolution. But I couldn’t.
Every step awakened something deep inside me. Much like poking at a canker sore in one’s mouth.
I sought the pain. I sought the punishment that each step brought forth. It hurt so good.
I felt alive.
Until I could bear it no more.
I stopped my journey in the pharmaceutical aisle, surrounded by the sweet comforts of Tylenol and Advil, band aids, and freezing gels.
A quick fix for what cut so deep. A refuge from the brutal torment.
I pulled off my boot, turned it upside down, and listened for the sweet, soothing sound of release.
And with that, I was unchained from the bondage of pain once again.
To finish buying my produce, with a new found perspective on the pain and pleasure.