There’s something wonderful about this in-between phase, empty pages between the chapters of a book without an answer or an end. The story’s begun. The future’s unknown. In the blank space before the start of the next chapter, I doodle. Take notes of introspection; dream.

I couldn’t be more excited about the life I’m pursuing, the actions taken every day to make my delusional aims a reality. These are challenges I voluntarily signed up for, as I know that nothing worth pursuing will come without grit and dedication.

It’s the challenge I didn’t ask for, however, that has been the most formative of my life.

I had my weekly call yesterday with the Back Ability Blueprint group, comprising other individuals like me striving to heal their chronic back pain.

Some are in worse condition, some better than where I’m at. It doesn’t really matter where we are on our journey — we share something profound.

We’re battling, out on our own in our day to day lives, going through our individual highs and lows, victories and trials.

Normal life isn’t put on hold when you’re in pain. You learn to deal. It could mess with you just trying to act as if things are alright.

Yet I’ve learned that it’s okay to break down. 

It’s okay, even necessary, not to suppress the pain you feel, whether it’s physical, emotional or mental. I’ve cried frequently to my friends, my family, and I’m sure I’ll need a release again in the future.

Yet at a certain point, we must decide who’s in control.

It doesn’t matter what we’re going through. Our perspective makes us, or breaks us. It’s how we choose to see our challenge. How we choose to act, despite the struggle.

I’m all out of tears, only fire remains.

On the call, Brendan, our coach, brought up how unusually kind everybody is in the chats and on the calls.

It’s very refreshing, pretty abnormal, he said.

Warriors of Pain, he said, see the world differently. It doesn’t matter if it’s illness, chronic pain, catastrophe, death, or even something seemingly insignificant.

If you’ve been through life and you’ve dealt with shit and it hasn’t broken you or turned you cold, you’re a Warrior.

Warriors of Pain are caring, empathetic, light, for we know how it feels to hurt. We just want to live, wanting nothing but freedom in our bodies and hearts.

If we’re gonna hurt during this season, a lightness towards life, a humor regarding the absurdity of it all, seems like the best way to remain free.

Obviously, there are moments of intense frustration. The darkness seems to close in, as if there’s no escape. The point is not acting as if the pain doesn’t exist.

That suppression will rear its head in other ways.

It’s an understanding — one I believe we all share in the BBB group — that the pain won’t win.

We’re on that weekly call to break down and build ourselves up. To battle. To laugh. To struggle and ultimately succeed together.

Once a week, the call is an open discussion. There are two other weekly calls where we focus on the specific workouts. Yesterday’s discussion lasted almost two and a half hours.

It’s usually like a class where we listen to Brendan share his knowledge from years of being in our position. He also answers specific questions about the program and our individual circumstances.

Yesterday, however, near the end of the chat, there was a handful of us left. We started really opening up, telling stories, encouraging each other. It felt so fucking cool, for that is why we’re in the group: to know we’re not alone.

The stories shared by others brought tears to my eyes. We won’t stop fighting. I won’t stop smiling. Because while the pain sucks, it makes the simple gift of life so, so poignant.

Life is a blessing. The human body is miraculous, healing itself, defying logic, as if by magic.

I told the group that I’m a writer, although I don’t usually write about my pain because I don’t want to bring people down.

When I started making fitness content, said Brendan, I used to do gym spoof videos. That’s what everybody else was doing at the time. I thought that’s what people wanted. 

Everything changed when I started putting out real shit about what I was going through. It’s not that people want to read about your pain. They need to. 

Talking about my pain has never been about complaining. I gave that up a long time ago.

I hope this serves as motivation, inspiration, fire, to help you overcome whatever you deal with. There’s so much I want to share, so much about our challenges that consume my thoughts on a moment to moment basis.

So much that I’ve learned.

Maybe it’s time I start sharing more.

On a walk early this morning while stretching in the park, there was a man with his dogs. He was calling out to them, enjoying himself and their company.

Soft pink clouds drifted through the blue-gray sky as the sun came up.

Imagine you’ve died and come back to life and this is all just extra, says the writer Ryan Holiday, imparting a Stoic principle.

There are trees. There are passing, smiling faces; there’s delicious food and parks of grass; there’s fresh air and music. There’s coffee. What a world, beautiful in all of its darkness and rain, sunshine and light.

Perhaps you’re in a difficult spot. Instead of viewing it as an unsolvable problem, make it an adventure. Explore. Be curious. There are mysteries to unlock, puzzles to solve, and you are the key.

Difficulty is inextricable from the wonder of being alive. I feel this every day: the mind seeking, the body pushing, the heart wondering. Caught amid my longing for answers I’m woken by a notion; a sight; a smell.

Faces pass just like me, on the surface, still as a pond in the woods; beneath the heart wonders, the body pushes, the mind seeks. We’re no different. The man in the park and the sunlit faces blushed from the cold, walking on the road. We’re no different, committed to this human condition. We’re here, and we may feel the warmth of the sun in the morning and the fresh cold air and the blood in our cheeks and the pain in our soul, which slowly wanes as we talk to a friend or read the pages of a long forgotten book, a human being hundreds, thousands of years ago. The eyes widen, the pain lessens, hope strikes the spirit like lightning. We are alive, unlike the individual who wrote the words in the book, but the words are alive and they help us now. They help us see. We’re all struggling, battling in one way or another, beneath our longing eyes and silent lips. It’s been this way since the dawn of time. That’s what makes this life so, so beautiful.

Keep the faith, for you are a Warrior.