Avoiding Pain And Chasing Satisfaction. Can We Do Both?

If so, what would that look like?

My husband embraces me to say goodbye and kisses the top of my head.

We normally depart with a somewhat sloppy kiss, but I’ve had some dental surgery and pretty much my whole face has been tender, swollen, bruised, and is off-limits right now. He’s careful not to squeeze too tightly so that my head isn’t pressing against his chest, and he rubs my back.

He doesn’t know that what hurts most right now is the possible kidney stone producing an ache from the middle of my back down through my hip.

He doesn’t know it woke me up last night.

He’s trying to protect what he thinks is hurting me by putting his focus somewhere else. But that place hurts too - maybe more.

I had an issue with my surgery while travelling and had to find a dentist to help - the area outside the office was scattered with these beautiful sculptures. Something great to focus on.

I don’t want to tell him, mostly because if I did, I’d also have to admit it to myself, and I’m not ready to do that quite yet. What if it’s just a pulled muscle? Or did I sleep weird? Passing a kidney stone is a 3-5 day affair that is painful, exhausting, and sometimes debilitating. I’m not ready to deal with that, physically or mentally.

So, I’ll wait and not tell him even though I know this is something he’d want to know.

I’ve been thinking a lot about pain, the ways we resist feeling it, and why that is.

I’ve also been thinking about the concept of satisfaction, what it feels like, and how it seems to surpass happiness or even joy. I’m experimenting with the idea of what it might be like to chase satisfaction above all else.

Take the moment with my husband, for instance. There is discomfort, yes, but it’s more than that. There is a lot going on besides the pain. There is so much good in our goodbye - the embrace itself, and also the sentiment of not wanting to leave each other.

The goodbye is good indeed. It is satisfying.

I wonder if I hold both the pain and satisfaction equally, which will I allow to take up more space? Can I let one run wild while the other sits still?

As a woman, I am a vessel. I’ve learned to gently hold love, beauty, nurture, and, of course, pain. Not only my own but that of others as well - my children and those I love.

As much as I might be used to holding pain, I run from it, too. We’re consistently after the thing that will bring us the least amount of pain.

What if instead, we started chasing the most amount of satisfaction and put our focus there?

One is defensive, the other is offensive. Do you see it?

Power versus victimization: advance vs. retreat.

From life, from yourself. From your connection with others.

I read something on Co-Star today that really resonated:

‘Someone who continues to hurt you will never be able to keep you safe.’

It made me think about the people who have hurt me, the times I've hurt others, and this intricate dance we all do between wounding and healing—or sometimes, getting stuck in the wound without ever reaching the healing.

Sometimes, it feels like this whole life, this whole world, is a dynamic game where we hurt and heal, and then get hurt and heal again. Or maybe we don’t do the healing part, and we’re just stuck there, in the pain.

I wonder sometimes if I would be happier if I were the only person on the planet. Would I be more fulfilled? If I were wandering alone in the pristine natural beauty of this world, and my only friends were, say, the birds and the elephants, would I be happier and more satisfied?

I might experience less pain in that situation, but it would never be satisfying - because I am made for love; to give it, to receive it. To connect with others. Being among others with the expectation that I won’t experience pain is a delusion.

Here's what I keep coming back to: I cannot control anyone else—what they do, what they think, how they feel, or especially how they choose to treat me. This truth becomes crystal clear when I look across the landscape of my relationships. By some people, I am cherished. By others, I am overlooked, unloved, or treated unfairly.

Same me - different them. I cannot control how they see me.

When someone hurts me, does that make them bad and me good? For a moment, maybe. It helps me process the pain by creating a simple narrative of villain and victim. But systematically? Forever? No.

No one is ever just one thing, though it feels so much cleaner to think of it that way. Nothing is ever just one thing—just like my husband's embrace that morning, which held both pain and profound tenderness.

So, here are the questions that matter most:

Will I allow the pain I've experienced to define how I see myself?

And more importantly, can I shift my focus enough to chase satisfaction and simply let the rest exist without demanding my constant attention?

The answer, I'm learning, might be found not in choosing between pain and satisfaction, but in expanding my capacity to hold both, allowing satisfaction to lead. In contrast, pain follows but is not in control.

This is where I want to live: in the fullness of experience, chasing what nourishes me while neither denying nor being defined by what hurts.

Do you allow your pain to define how you see yourself?

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I appreciate each of you so much.

LYLAS -

S

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