The past few days have brought some uncomfortable revelations around my relationship with pain. Not because of anything external, but because I’ve seeing myself more clearly — confronting the parts of me I can’t rationalize, justify, blame on external circumstances, or look away from anymore. Coming back to this letter helped me open up more and relate to what I’m feeling differently, so thank you, Ronit. 🙏
What became more apparent is how quickly I still default to override discomfort (through numbing, distracting, intellectualizing, or trying to “think” my way out) rather than of staying with what I’m actually feeling and experiencing in my body. It also helped me see something I’ve been afraid to admit — the realization of how much avoiding pain has also resulted in avoiding intimacy, first with myself and inevitably with others. Not consciously, but in subtle ways like when care, support, and truth is right in front of me and I stay guarded, distracted, or numb instead of letting it in.
I saw this clearly in how I behaved to the care someone offered me this week. Even though the support was significant, I wasn’t present enough to slow down to receive it, acknowledge it, or allow it nourish me. It wasn’t intentional, but that doesn’t change the impact. Reading your letters is helping me understand that resisting pain doesn’t actually “protect” me—it creates distance, more disconnection, and more hurt (internally and with others). It’s sobering and surprisingly comforting to learn that pain isn’t the enemy here; it’s just the signal I haven’t been willing to listen to yet. And I'm beginning to.
I’m so glad this letter and all of the letters exist here. I keep coming back to this one especially. Such an incredible tool for anchoring myself when the world feels so dark, cold, and disconnected. I’m able to feel my humanity and trust that pain is purposeful. 🙏🏾
The past few days have brought some uncomfortable revelations around my relationship with pain. Not because of anything external, but because I’ve seeing myself more clearly — confronting the parts of me I can’t rationalize, justify, blame on external circumstances, or look away from anymore. Coming back to this letter helped me open up more and relate to what I’m feeling differently, so thank you, Ronit. 🙏
What became more apparent is how quickly I still default to override discomfort (through numbing, distracting, intellectualizing, or trying to “think” my way out) rather than of staying with what I’m actually feeling and experiencing in my body. It also helped me see something I’ve been afraid to admit — the realization of how much avoiding pain has also resulted in avoiding intimacy, first with myself and inevitably with others. Not consciously, but in subtle ways like when care, support, and truth is right in front of me and I stay guarded, distracted, or numb instead of letting it in.
I saw this clearly in how I behaved to the care someone offered me this week. Even though the support was significant, I wasn’t present enough to slow down to receive it, acknowledge it, or allow it nourish me. It wasn’t intentional, but that doesn’t change the impact. Reading your letters is helping me understand that resisting pain doesn’t actually “protect” me—it creates distance, more disconnection, and more hurt (internally and with others). It’s sobering and surprisingly comforting to learn that pain isn’t the enemy here; it’s just the signal I haven’t been willing to listen to yet. And I'm beginning to.
I’m so glad this letter and all of the letters exist here. I keep coming back to this one especially. Such an incredible tool for anchoring myself when the world feels so dark, cold, and disconnected. I’m able to feel my humanity and trust that pain is purposeful. 🙏🏾
A great pain can often become the innermost core, the best content and value of our life.