Pain does not make you special

Yesterday, I was having a conversation with a friend. Down the line, I was trying to convince them to show up again for today's hike having completed the previous one. That the true measure of bravery isn't overcoming an affliction once, but going back willingly.

This was reminiscent of something I read a really long time ago, from Neil Gaiman when he was discussing about how he wrote Coraline based off of his own encounter with fear and the need to "go back".

When Coraline sets off to rescue her parents, she recalls a story to the cat about how she and her father were ambushed by a swarm of wasps on a walk. Coraline’s father, unfortunately, dropped his glasses while running away from the swarm, and had to go back and collect them. This is when he tells Coraline that he is scared, but he would still brave the wasps. This, according to Coraline’s father, was true bravery.

My friend did not go back to collect their glasses, but it got me thinking... how can I prove this?

The hikes we do are usually highlighted by an average of 2 intensive ascents. But on today's hike, Nduba, we did 4. You are exhausted by the last one. An opportunity in disguise, I reckoned this was an ideal moment to prove whether going back was brave. All I had to do, was descend, and re-climb, save this time with knowledge of the agony it took to climb it the first time. I think that's what's most painful in most situations. The knowledge of the process, the pain to come, and how bitter that makes you.

Any-who, I went down. All the way down, till the dust settled for none other than my folly. And tell you what, I despised every moment of the re-ascent. It was infuriating, but I managed to quiet my thoughts with something Ethan recommends. You just have to find a way to convince yourself that it's just pain.
And with that, in the midst of bickering and negotiations, out of the blue, I murmured a Rwandan saying that had me contemplating notions of narcissism.

Kubaho ni ukuvunika.

Translation, something close to, "To live is to suffer".

I was basically trying to remind myself, that this pain, is no different from all the pain that came before nor that which will after. No different from how we live out our lives. Ni ibisanzwe. And in that senseless moment, I went further as to wager that, I would gladly take physical pain over the kind that bombards your mind with artificial terrors. The kind that advocates for self-absorption. The kind that makes you think that just because you're having it rough, it's something worth identifying over. To hell with that. Pain is universal. It's nothing special. Nor are we because of it. Nta gishya.

This isn't some dark remark about an outlook on life. It's something simple as receiving a guide before it all begins.

Consider a mad doctor saying this to every baby after delivering them.
"This is the mess you're in, kid, deal with it."