I have a folder in the Notes section on my phone entitled “Meaning of Life.” Every few weeks I seem to have a new focus, a new idea, a new outlook that’s meant to help me navigate this life better.
To be happy really. It all comes down to an endless attempt to be happy. Or, at the very least, to feel less pain.
But. But… that’s ridiculous. The idea of being happy or avoiding pain is ludicrous. As Friedrich Nietzsche said, “To live is to suffer. To survive is to find meaning in the suffering.” Or, as The Dread Pirate Roberts said, “Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.” So who the fuck am I to believe that I’m going to avoid suffering? Who do I think I am to believe I can avoid the plight of all humanity?
So I thought this: what if someone came up to me and said, “I’m going to give you a choice. I am going to guarantee that you will get sick; you will become frail; you will suffer sadness, depression, anxiety, fear; you will lose loved ones; you will be bored; you will have road rage; you will suffer existential angst; you will question your place in the world; you will face hate and discrimination; and ignorance. But, as the price for all this negativity, I will offer you a chance to be alive.
“Your choices are, experience life along with ultimate suffering. Or be dead. Tell me your choice.”
I would choose life. Every. Single. Time.
So. Suffering is the price I pay for being alive.
I don’t want to try to avoid pain anymore. I don’t want to beat myself up for being depressed. I don’t want to suffer twice, once over the suffering, and again for feeling guilty about the suffering. How fucking stupid is that? I’m going to pay attention to the suffering, notice it, acknowledge it, and recognize that all that pain is the price I pay for being alive. All that hardness is the price I pay for any and all joy I get to experience.
Sex And Depression 