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I have rolled my eyes so many times when hearing different spiritual teacher’s pronounce that, “Suffering is Grace.”

Bullsh*t, my mind balks.

My ego wants to resist this one big time. Sometimes, it feels like this is just another “positive my way out” method. Just another “everything happens for a reason” to attempt to make sense of the horrible pile of dog crap I find myself in. To slap a cheerful Band-Aid on my pain so that I don’t completely lose it.

Even as a therapist, who encourages others to “be with their pain,” I still find it incredibly challenging to really embrace my own pain when I’m faced with it. My inner resistance to pain can be so strong.

Right now, it feels like the pains of my life, including (but not limited to) grief, heartbreak, loss, and trauma are so intense. And what I’ve found is that the stronger the pain, the stronger the resistance, and the stronger the suffering.

This morning, I was feeling the lowest of the low, in the thralls of a massive suffering sh*tstorm. I couldn’t stand being with all of the pain. My heart was breaking, I was filled to the brim with pain, and it all felt so incredibly overwhelming.

So I went for a drive to give myself the space to feel it. I parked my car in a naturey desolate area, played all of Taylor Swift’s saddest songs, and cried and cried, and breathed, and cried, and paused, and cried. And then to my surprise, I began watching the trees flowing around me in awe. During my cry sesh, a few dragonflies visited me, making me feel less alone. I could feel the paradox. It felt oddly comforting that while I was having a massive breakdown, the dragon flies kept flying, and the leaves in the tree’s kept swaying, and the wind kept blowing, and the sun kept shining. After really diving into the pain, I started to feel resolve.

And now, as I write this just hours later, I am feeling more present. My mind is much quieter. I can hear the sound of the typer buttons on my computer typing so clearly. I can hear the silent murmur of the air conditioning. I can hear my own breath. Because my mind is not buzzing with a million thoughts, trying to resist the pain, I can actually hear what is here. I have learned this to be true, but I’m re-remembering in this moment, that when you really lean in, you meet presence.

Would you call this grace? I think I would. Just this morning, all I was feeling was hate and despair. And now, I feel love, presence, and the flow of my own heart. Maybe suffering and grace are different sides of the same coin.

I’m even starting to believe that this suffering and heartbreak is actually serving me. To come home to myself and to my own beautiful heart. Back to a space of love, worthiness, and wholeness. I’m even feeling some gratitude for the people who have hurt me because they helped me to come back to myself.

I think that sometimes when pain is a light to medium intensity, it sort of stays within us as an uncomfortable itch. It’s there, we are half aware of it, but we are also subconsciously resisting it. And it’s this subtle resistance that keeps life and the moment we are in at bay from us. When we do this, there is a hidden disconnection that we feel as “blah” or a feeling of dissatisfaction. However, when the pain is so intense, we can’t miss it. For me, this morning, the pain got so loud I had to go in; I had to confront it.

As Thich Nhat Hanh says, “The way out is in.” And I really feel that. By going within in, I feel a relief. And I really feel that this pain is in service of my awakening, of a bigger heart, more love, and of a closer and more tender inner-connection. As my heart breaks, I let in more love, and my love for myself and all beings grows.

I’m starting to learn to trust the pain, and trust the unfolding. This pain is bringing me back home, and I know it from a place deep within. And I’m not trying to convince myself of this from a superficial, spiritual bypassy place. Because I also know that there is more pain to be felt and processed.

But I’m relearning that when I truly honor the pain, it does transform. Not in a way that I honor it to get rid of it, because that would be faking myself and it wouldn’t really work. I really have to honor it, truly, authentically, and then it starts to move.

Ram Dass teaches that all of the painful experiences that life throws you are not an accident. That you can actually use the pain of life to awaken, or to suffer more. He calls this “grist for the mill.” Suffering can actually help you awaken to your own loving and intuitive heart.

So yes, I think suffering is grace. The word grace comes from both the Latin root word “gratus” meaning pleasing and thankful, and the English root word “grateful.” I think when we truly allow ourselves the full experience of suffering, there is a feeling of gratitude there as well. You might miss it if you don’t pay attention, but if you open yourself to it, you may find that it’s right there. That when we really allow the experience of pain and suffering, we are able to be in the presence of remarkable grace and divinity.

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