Part 25

I have been amazed at the blessings that have come from writing this blog. I cannot describe how much it means to me when I hear from someone who has been affected by what I have written, especially when it is another survivor who says reading my stuff helps make them not feel so alone.

I have often wrestled with the idea that there must be some point to all of this. How could I have any faith in the world or other people or myself if people could do what my dad did to me and there be no point to it?

I mean, I don’t really think of their being any point from my dad’s perspective. At this time, I don’t really give a shit what his perspective is. From what I know of his childhood and his past, I can definitely see how he suffered, too, and how he could have gotten so fucked up. That might help me to not take what he did so personally, but it certainly in no way makes it okay.

I took a philosophy class a few years ago – it was called “Great Questions.” One of the great questions was whether or not god was real. Another was whether there was any such thing as pure benevolence. I can’t remember what the third one was, but it was a good one, too.

Anyway, from the midst of this class came the debate about why a purely loving and benevolent god would allow pain and suffering. The argument was made that if there was no suffering, there could be no joy. How could you know what happiness is if you have never known what it was like to be sad?

How can you know what good is if you have never known what evil is? One of the foundations of this theory is that in order for happiness and joy to actually be happiness and joy, it has to be experienced comparatively to pain and sadness. Self-awareness of a state of happiness is inherent in the meaning of “happiness.”

Following, self-awareness of pain is the only way to experience the self-awareness of happiness and joy. The height of joy realized can only be the opposite of the amount of pain previously realized. Basically, the more pain you feel, the more happiness you will also be able to feel.

You can’t know how wonderful and beautiful and incredible life is if you never know how hellish and hateful and painful it is, too.

When I ask the insidious question, “why,” I am satisfied by this explanation. I could not experience and comprehend pure joy and pure love if I had not also experienced and comprehended pure evil and pure hate and pure pain. But then I ask myself whether the residual ability to experience such heights of joy worth the necessity of having to experience such depths of pain.

Is ignorance really bliss? Would it be better for me if I had not experienced any pain, and in return, never really been able to know what happiness is?

This is where I come to a draw: if I had never felt all of this pain, I would not even be able to comprehend what all of this happiness could be like. I would not even be aware of what I was missing. So does that mean that there can be no such thing as a truly benevolent god, because there is the option to keep me ignorant of pain, even though it would also mean I was ignorant of joy?

Here is my conclusion, which has taken a very long time to accept: it doesn’t really matter.

What is the point in wondering whether or not I would have been better off not feeling anything than feeling such extremes of everything when I obviously have no power to change what has already happened and what I have already felt and experienced?

Why stew in the idea that whatever god this is could have prevented me from experiencing all of these horrible things to begin with? I suppose it would be a good reason to be mad at that god. But I still couldn’t do anything to change it, and being mad at an omnipotent and abstract entity would just get in the way of being able to feel any happiness – or at least the full extent of happiness I have the potential to feel.

Another explanation I have found for experiencing all of this pain is that others who have also experienced this pain can be comforted by me, and I in turn can be comforted by them and by my ability to comfort.

But that just brings me right back to the question of why there would have to be pain to begin with. It is maddening, and that is why I have accepted that whatever answer there may be to that question has nothing to do with me.

I cannot do anything about changing what pain I have and have not experienced in the past, but I can do my best to appreciate the joy and happiness I am able to experience in return.

But pulling that happiness from that pain is incredibly difficult. It takes a lot of hard work, and the process is, in and of itself, painful.

So is it worth it?

I’m just going to go with yes, because I have experienced heights of joy I had never experienced before I allowed myself to feel all of this pain.

But is the amount of happiness I have experienced in direct proportion to the amount of pain? To be perfectly honest, I do not think it is. However, I have come to the conclusion that I will be eventually rewarded with the proportionate amount of happiness in relation to the amount of pain I have felt, and in the meantime, at least I am not doing all of those shitty things to add to the pain anymore.

The way I reached this conclusion was through recognizing the joy and light and love I have in my life right now. I know I did not recognize the extent of it before I was able to feel all of the pain of my past.

I also know, though, that this is just me. I did not have a choice about what happened to me, but I do have a choice about what to do about it now. I choose to face it and work through it and get my reward of peace and happiness.

This doesn’t mean that everyone else who has experienced pain should or would or even could make that same choice. I can’t say that it is the “right” thing to do. I just know how much pain I have experienced, and continue to experience on a regular basis. Maybe it will leave me one day, but as of right now, I don’t see that happening.

The pain is big, and deep, and an innate part of the person I am. And I am pissed about it. I am really fucking pissed that my dad took so much from me – including my opportunity to have a loving and kind dad.

It has motivated me to get what I can out of life that is good. I could very, very easily be continuing the harm done that my dad started. Continuing to hurt myself would be a fantastic way to carry out that bastard’s legacy. And I am just not willing to do that.

And if that means going to therapy and not drinking and not smoking and not doing drugs and not eating tons of unhealthy food and not having sex with every willing guy I come across, then so be it.

When I read that list of self-harming behavior, it seems silly that I would choose any of them over my happiness. Happiness is not easy, though, and doing all of those bad things to myself IS easy.

But like I said, I am pissed at what has been taken from me, and if I my perfect revenge is to bust my ass to become healthy and happy, then so be it.