What ails me?

Activists have oftentimes been seen as these tough men and women who will not back out from a fight nor be afraid of getting hurt. In my case, the first one may be true most of the time. The second one is something I’m still trying to work out.

I am deathly scared of pain.

When I was a kid, I ran from a tooth extraction operation even after the dentist has put loads of anaesthesia on my gums. Despite the number of times I was pricked by that syringe, I still cringed when that cold implement touched my aching tooth.

Eventually, the dentist caught up with me, strapped me on her dental chair and pulled hard.

That same fear of pain made me believe then that I should just call for St. Roque to avoid getting bitten by dogs. Of course, that time I didn’t mind having a patron saint for canines and none for the gaydom-kind as long as he saved me from his creatures.

Later on, I still found myself getting gnashed in the butt by our own dog. Traitor!

I was also a very well-behaved child for my father did not suffer hardheadedness and disobedience lightly. Whose dad does, anyway?

When I was about 10 though, I experienced getting switched by him for trying to outrun a bus all the way to the Batangas port on my bike.

I was also taught not to have anything red on me when I see a cow. Now I can see red just by looking at the cow of a president we have.

Looking back, though I’ve never been attacked by a cow, I was almost trampled by a carabao.

These stories are more on the physical pains. There are still the emotional pains that are even harder to face and feel. How many among us have experienced that excruciating pain that, much as we try to, we cannot easily pinpoint where it hurts the most?

Through all these pains, I realized that try as I might to avoid them, they still come and pull my insides, bite me in the ass, or impale and bleed me dry.

All I can do is to just bear them, heal the wounds and let the scar be a badge to the world that I’ve gone through hell and back. After everything and like everything, pain passes. Fast or slow, complete or not, they do.

Eventually, life always takes over and forces me to look at pain as something that it gives out to humor and teach me lessons. Cruelly most of the time.

Why am I talking about these?

Because I am in pain. I’m aching all over. I’m hurting in places I find hard to reach.

I just came back from the gym after a two-month absence. Aarghhh!