Walking along the beach in the heavy sand by the water’s edge, I step in other people’s footprints. They’re everywhere, and it takes less effort. But I think, make your own footprints, even if it’s harder. Chart your own path, even though it seems like there’s not much available space — there’s always a way.

I turn around. I thought I was just going for a walk, but I start to run from one end of the beach to the other. I hit another gear, and on my way back at twilight, the spectrum of color in the sky reflects on the receding water that lingers on the shore, and it feels like I’m running on the rainbow road from Mario Kart.

I finish the run and the sky’s a deep purple. I’m warm and the water’s inviting, so I jump in without a towel and just stand there with my hands together, letting the cold waves wash over and through me. I’m reminded of living in San Diego in my early twenties. I was a different person in many ways, but in others, I was just the same kid.

I feel like I have this indefatigable energy, a fire raging that won’t die out. I think it’s because of what I had to endure physically to get to this point; pain gave me such a desire to be free. Now, I don’t take any of this for granted. I’m in this magic pocket of potential.

I’ve been combing through every article that I wrote while living in Japan for nearly three years, as I’m using much of the material in my next book, based on my experiences there as an English teacher. A lot of the stories were about chronic pain.

I thought that by going to Japan, perhaps I could run away from this mysterious pain in my body. In a new environment, I hoped my body would forget. But it only got worse. By the end of my time there I was in the worst pain of my life, and it was unrelenting.

Now I look back and read examples like the following from this story, and I can hardly describe the emotion I feel:

“Yesterday I could barely stand up straight, but I walked to the nearby park. Even when I’m laid low, getting fresh air always helps. I watched a group playing soccer, and emotion washed through me.

The night before, I dreamt of playing soccer with my high school friends, a dream I often have. I’m playing basketball, lacrosse, soccer or surfing carefree in my dreams. Pain free. Yet that hasn’t been me for a long time, the entirety of my twenties.

I’d be lying if I said I don’t get jealous of watching others playing sports without thinking about their backs; but that jealously quickly fades. There’s nobody to blame, it is what it is, and we all got something we’re dealing with. But living in a state of pain messes with you. I find myself watching actors in movies, wondering how their backs feel. I even watch animations, comedy specials, literally everything, wondering about people’s pain — it’s wild.”

I simply can’t believe that’s not me anymore. I’m sitting here on the other side, when in reality I couldn’t understand how things would ever change. I kept breaking, again and again, and I was miserable.

But I never gave up.

I endured the most challenging chapter of my life, never losing faith completely that things were happening for a reason. I knew — I had to believe — that the pain was a setup to take me to a higher level. And now, here I am, feeling pretty damn high.

High on life, on gratitude, on the light of the dawn sky and some strong coffee in my mug. I beat chronic pain, and I feel better than I ever have in mind, body, and soul.

I’ve had a handful of flare-ups in the nearly two years since starting the mind-body work, but they haven’t laid me half as low as they did when I thought the pain was because of a physical abnormality. They’ve been less and less frequent as my mind becomes less and less fearful of the things I’ve been conditioned to avoid — lifting heavy, running hard, using the back, things like that.

It’s just so wild for me, personally, to look back at all these articles, because there’s a clear correlation between when I was hurting the most and when I was the most stressed out.

Now, I’m confident I can handle whatever life presents because of what I’ve learned through mind-body awareness.

Relax into life and the sensations if you have them; what you embrace you erase.

Let all of it in — the emotion, the pain, the sadness, the love. We are vessels for life to flow through, so open yourself up and let it flow. And honestly, that’s it. A daily practice, not an answer. Less fear, more life.

I’ve been 80–90% better in the last six months from where I was two years ago. But now — there’s very little trace of chronic pain left.

There’s still so much to learn, being kinder to myself at the forefront of my aspirations, as we are all a continual work in progress. But right now, man, things are clicking. I have to believe it’s because of who I was when in the depths of the valley that makes me who I am as I climb this mountain as high as it can go. The following passage from this story back in Japan is pretty cool.

“It’s not always easy. There are days when my back pain makes me feel completely despondent. And that’s when I have to dig deep. I look for signs and ask the universe for help. That’s precisely why I’m not only healing here to get back to where I was.

I’m building something new out of this experience: a deeper, more vulnerable and antifragile soul. I’ve realized that I can handle any challenge as I laugh and I cry and I pursue what lights me up inside, often while simply managing the pain. It feels like this injury has taken so much from me.

Yet the path to healing has given me so, so much in return, for overcoming this test with my spirit, my joy, and my smile intact isn’t only getting me back to where I was. It’s taking me to a new level. I know I’ll be pain-free one day soon. All I can do is cherish this ride, both the ups and the downs, because when I look back it won’t be the pain which remains, but beauty shining through the cracks of time.”

Time is our ally. It’s leading us somewhere we can’t possibly imagine. In our careers, our spirituality, our friendships, our love. But maybe we’re not ready yet. Every day of pain in those seven years taught me something. And now I’m learning something new every day. We can’t and shouldn’t want to get to the end without every necessary step. So I’ll take it all in stride with faith that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be here and now. I’m doing the things I once dreamt of, running as fast as I fucking can on the beach in January. What more is there to ask for?

Whatever you’re going through. Zoom out. Take the pressure off yourself. Stay curious, ask questions, and trust the universe to guide you, as long as you’re paying attention.

For a long time I stepped in other people’s footprints, believing the pain had to be physical. Every chiropractor. Physical therapy. Acupuncture. Everything in between. None of it helped. So I turned around and I ran inward, deeper and deeper into an inner landscape that only I could understand, everything bathed in the light and shadows of dusk, where I’m still taking steps to know myself. And let me tell you it’s rather beautiful in there if you have the courage to wade through the mud for a while.

Things change in time. I swear it, they do. Have patience, keep your head up, and cherish every damn day of the beautiful ride.

You can learn about my chronic pain journey here, with links to books and individuals who have helped me heal.