I just watched a movie called “Happy,” produced in 2011. You have to watch it. I was so moved by people’s stories. One story that stood out for me was that of a woman whose face was crushed when she was run over by a truck. I don’t feel like writing much at the moment, but the narration around that story, as well as the story itself, really touched my heart and resonated.
One of the hardest parts of my journey through suffering was when people would say to me that I had bad luck or bad karma, when they would tell me bad things kept happening to me or accusingly ask me why that was the case, and so on. As if it was not enough that I went through a long stretch where I’d rise above and then get knocked down again. Honestly, that was the hardest part of it all – the lack of compassion, the implicit accusation, the blame, the ridicule, the shaming, all of that psychological and emotional crap. Forget the physical pain.
And something in the narration of that part of the movie really spoke to me, because it was challenging how we think that happiness only comes when everything is rosy, and we think that trying times will destroy people. But that’s not the case. And I always wondered why people placed so much meaning and heaviness on things I had to encounter – completely ignoring me in the process. Completely missing the fact that I was a scrappy-assed fighter full of life and fire and determination and tenacity. I wrote about these matters in my post, Pain and Suffering, a while back.