Pain Into Purpose: A Personal Story

Intro:

There was a point in my life where physical fitness was my identity. As a kid, I struggled with health. Exercise was something I turned to from a young age to combat that. As I got older and healthier, my capacity and love for it grew.

It made me feel in control of my health. I clung to it. If I got angry, I’d exercise. Upset? I’d exercise. If I was happy, well, you guessed it, I’d exercise. This can be a good thing, and to be honest, I’m a huge advocate of obsession. But I’m telling you all of this because it sets the stage.

As time went on, I developed a shoulder injury. I’ll spare the details for now because it’s not important for the lesson. When it first happened, it didn’t phase me. I didn’t see the severity of it. I was young, and in my mind, invincible. I did some rehab and eventually got surgery to fix it. Or so I thought.

Surgery was something else I overlooked. Doctors today tend to minimize how invasive these procedures are and the impact they can have. After my surgery, something still felt off. I was left with more pain than before.

After years of self-educating and seeing every specialist I could, I ended up getting another surgery, this time on the opposite shoulder. At that point, I began to understand the deeper cause. Posture, poor movement patterns, and years of dysfunction had led to injuries in both shoulders.

During this time, I was working in construction as what you call a commercial painter. You can imagine what that required physically. Every day, I went to work knowing the excruciating pain that was waiting for me.

I’d come home and work on relieving the pain just enough to go back and do it all over again. This went on for years.

I remember going to my mom’s house at 5:30 in the morning before work, showing her a video, and asking her to tape my shoulder in place just so I could get through the day, hiding it under my clothes.

I became completely immersed in physical rehabilitation, trying to find a way out of what I was dealing with. It wasn’t something I planned, but I started helping other people with their chronic pain. And I was good at it. Very good. What I was learning, I passed on, and I realized how much I cared about helping people who felt the same way I did.

So I made a decision to go to school for physical therapy. I also needed to quit my job because of the pain it was causing. The only problem was I was an adult with real living expenses, and I had no skills outside of physical labor. My options were limited. But I made up my mind that I didn’t care what it took.

The only job I could find at the time that wouldn’t cause a lot of pain was picking up trash and dog waste at an apartment complex. So I took it.

Around that same time, I had yet another MRI on my shoulder and got the diagnosis. These new specialists recommended another surgery on the original shoulder. I remember getting the call while I was with my girlfriend at the time. I took it in without much emotion. I was numb to it. She actually cried for me.

After that surgery, once again, there was no improvement.

I could say you can imagine the strain this put on my life, but if you haven’t been through it, you can’t.

It bleeds over into everything. I was in a long-term relationship, living together, and without a doubt this whole process played a part in the abrupt dismantling of that relationship. Not everything, but an important part.

One day I came home to an empty house. Still recovering from surgery and in immense pain, I slept on the floor, questioning the direction of my life. It was one of the loneliest nights I’ve experienced.

So here I was, still in pain, going through a breakup, picking up trash and cleaning up after dogs for a living.

Nothing against people who do this work, but I had gone from a good job, making good money, to this. Something that paid a fourth of what I was previously making.

Between the surgeries, recovery, and financial strain, I buried myself in 40k of credit card debt.

It was a complete reset. In fact, it was worse than a reset. It was a major setback. And if I’m being honest, it hit my ego.

After some time, I remember there was a girl who liked me who lived at the complex. I liked her as well and I can still remember the embarrassment I felt when I’d see her while I was doing my work.

Through all of this, I was still helping people with their pain and started seeing them as clients.

There’s something strange about helping people out of pain while still living in it yourself. You watch someone stand in front of you, relieved, emotional, thanking you, and you feel proud. You feel fulfilled.

But then you go home, back to your own body, and there are questions waiting for you.
Why not me? Why can’t I be pain free?

Being in chronic pain is like being a prisoner in your own body. You can’t run from it. You can’t hide from it. You can’t escape it. You can only feel it, day after day, year after year.

That time, working that job and going to school, became a blur. I lived in my head. I always had headphones on, only taking them off to read a book. I kept feeding myself information and positive reinforcement, along with anything I could find around health and rehabilitation.

My drive turned into a fire. It consumed me and lit the path ahead.

Fast forward years later, I now run my own business helping others with personal development, their health, and chronic pain. I’ve helped countless people, many of whom have eliminated their pain completely. 

As for me, I still deal with it. But I’ve found and built a system that keeps it under control, and I’m still working toward fully overcoming it.

Reflection:

During all this time, I struggled a lot with the purpose of suffering, the reasoning behind it. I finally came to understand that it is by suffering that we can become great. It is by suffering that we can see our flaws and see our true selves. It provides the hardest lessons. You just have to have the conscious ability to learn them.

The version of me I had always relied on was no longer there. And I had to watch it die. I didn’t really know who I was without it.

Keeping my mind strong and positive helped me tremendously during this time and continues to do so to this day. Your mind can be your greatest ally or your worst enemy.

In life, there will be times where things seem stacked against you, but you can never allow your mind to go against you as well. Once you do, hope is lost. And once hope is lost, it’s only down from there.

Having a reason to move forward beyond yourself is another great contributor to getting through hard times. At some point in life, we will all run into something much bigger than ourselves. Something that will crush us. It is only by having motivation beyond ourselves that we can become bigger than the object in our way.

For me, it was other people in pain. I wanted to become the person I needed, but for others. That was the motivation that was bigger than me. That’s what kept me going.

There’s a quote I came across during that time that didn’t fully make sense to me at first.
Here it is in all its glory: “If you want to be the light, you must first burn.”

It took me years to understand that. Because burning isn’t poetic when you’re in it.
It feels like everything is literally being burned to the ground, like things are being taken from you, not given.

But that’s not the truth. What it actually gives you is the greatest gift you could ever receive.

Purpose.

By refining you. Stripping away what isn’t real. Putting you face to face with yourself. Until eventually, all that’s left is a person with a greater understanding of who they are and what they’re here to do.

Before this, I didn’t truly know what I wanted to do with my life. I had dreams and ideas just like everyone else, but the path was never this clear.

It’s a miracle to know your purpose. And many people want to. But everything comes at a price. What many people don’t know is what it can take to get there. Miracles are born from tragic things. If not, then they wouldn’t be miracles.

As I end this, there’s one final thing you need to understand. If you’re suffering with something, know that no one is coming to save you. If you’re lucky, you may get some great help along the way, but at some point, it becomes your responsibility to lessen your own suffering.

To face it. To learn from it. And to use it.

Or, you let it break you.

Those are the only two options.

And eventually, you have to choose. So make the right choice.

But don’t think that’s a choice you only make once.

Because you have to make it every single day….until you turn pain into purpose.

Action:

Follow these steps:

1. Identify what you’ve been relying on
Be honest with yourself. What have you built your identity around? Is it your work, your body, a relationship, approval, control? What do you turn to when things don’t feel right?

2. Ask what would happen if it was taken away
Don’t avoid this. Sit with it. If that thing disappeared tomorrow, what would be left?
Would you feel grounded or lost?

3. Pay attention to where life is applying pressure
Look at the areas in your life that feel uncomfortable or out of your control.
Instead of resisting, ask: What is this trying to show me?

4. Stop numbing the discomfort
Most people run from what they feel. They distract, avoid, or replace it. Sit with it long enough to understand it. There is information in it.

5. Find something bigger than yourself
Whether it’s helping others or building something meaningful, you need a reason that goes beyond yourself.

6. Make the choice daily
You don’t “find purpose” and move on. You choose to face what’s in front of you, learn from it, and act on it, every single day.

Take the Next Step:

If you’re ready to take your health, wellness, and overall life seriously, I offer personalized coaching‍ designed to help you rebuild from the ground up, physically, mentally, and personally. This is for people who want to improve their habits, strengthen their mindset, and take real ownership of their direction.

The Intentional Man is an online men’s group built for men who are done avoiding what’s in front of them. Men who want to act with intention, hold themselves to a higher standard, and build something real with their lives.