I woke up with my Uncle Wayne on my mind this morning. I didn’t learn much from him but what I did learn, seemed to be very important wise life lessons. He didn’t speak much, though he had the exterior of a hard man. He passed away in 2007 and I was about 13. He was there during most of my life, and lived with my mother and I during half of it. He was a biker man, long braided hair and long beard. He had a lot of trouble times in his life, but what I remember most about him was he was in a lot of pain with his back. Back then they had opioid suckers, he would often have them in his mouth a lot of times. At that time, I don’t think I really knew what physical pain was, hard physical pain, but I knew that he was in a lot.

I will never forget, one day while we were visiting him in his house, he was very angry and hateful. Not at me, but his whole demeanor was just miserable. I think I might have gotten butt hurt a little at something he said and my feelings hurt. He called me over beside him. I went over at sat beside him and he told me as he put his hand on my lap.

“Now, if Uncle Wayne sounds hateful I don’t mean to be. I’m not yelling at you. I just don’t feel good.”

That would be the first of two times I have heard that phrase in my life.

For a moment, his great pain was affecting others and he didn’t want it to hurt anyone else.

Years later, as my mother’s health started to rapidly decline when I was in high school and college, she would tell me the same thing.

“I’m sorry if I’m sounding hateful, Mommie doesn’t mean to.”

I never took her pain for blame, I knew that she was trying her hardest to not let the pain come through or show. She was the example in my life, as others, we don’t let our pain show and we definitely don’t let it control our words or actions.

I find myself in their same spot today. Hurting extremely to points where I find myself apologizing to those around me, saying that I am sorry if I sound short or hateful, I’m just in so much pain. Of course their response was the same as mine to my mother, ‘it’s okay, you aren’t hateful. I’m sorry you hurt so much.’

I feel like, at a point in my life, were it’s getting harder to be honest about my pain. For a moment, it seemed to get easier, but now it leads me into isolation. If anyone knows me, they know I’m not a liar. One, I don’t have the memory span to keep up with lies, and two, that goes against my whole character. I will not lie and I can’t stand a liar. But, one of the only lies I tell, almost on a daily basis sometimes, is when people ask me how I am.

‘I’m doing ok.’

‘I’m good, how are you?’

‘Just hanging in here.’

The other lie is not spoken, but a physical mask. My husband says my age works against me, as I appear to be a tall healthy 32 year old. But inside, I’m breaking down in agonizing pain. Only my husband sees this, at night when I cry into his arms, not even moving, just laying, and the pain radiating down my back into my hips. Both of us apologizing for the pain. He is sorry I’m hurting so bad and so am I.

I don’t express my pain to others, or try not to, because pain kills joy. It may also be a pride thing I’m working on, but I refuse to let my pain pour over onto someone else. I refuse to let my misery pour onto someone else. When someone is in pain physical or mental, I feel there is no right to put that onto someone else to carry. Most people know me as a happy go lucky kind of person, always smiling. That brings a smile to someone’s face. But we all know someone in our life, that is miserable and they bring others down with them. Misery loves company. With others, and within our self.

That’s where I pray and ask God to help me have the strength to get through things with pain. And He does.

I was reading some in Job 10:1,

“My soul is weary of my life; I will leave my complaint upon myself; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.”

He was willing to confront his suffering directly, seeking understanding from God in the midst of his turmoil. He cried out loud, others may hear him, but he would complain to himself, in his self. And to the Lord who hears us.

I pray I don’t let my pain control my attitude towards other, and that God hear my cries, and me knowing he does, help give me strength to help others aside from my own sorrows. When you keep your eyes on God through pain, you can keep a smile in front of the agony, and show what God is helping you through. Don’t let Satan enjoy your misery that pain brings and steals your joy. Let God heal your attitude and everything else will follow.