To Those Who Keep Smiling Even When They're Hurting

 

For the past few days, I've been completely knocked out by severe stomach pain.

Strangely enough, although my stomach hurts, I can still eat. The human body is full of mysteries.

What surprises me most is that I usually recover after just one day's rest, so this lingering illness has caught me off guard.

According to my Vedic astrology chart, I'm now entering my Mars period—a chapter that will last for the next seven years.

Mars is the planet of action, so I'd spent quite some time planning ahead, organising everything so I could make the most of this new phase.

And yet...

The very moment I was ready for my grand start, this happened.

Honestly, I couldn't help thinking,

"Seriously? Now?"

I'm sure you've experienced something similar.

Recently, I redesigned my logo. I went through countless versions—adjusting, refining, questioning every symbol and every detail until it finally felt almost complete.

Feeling rather pleased with it, I showed it to my partner.

He looked at it and said,

"I think this part would work better if you changed it."

"And this section could be improved like this."

Now, I know he was saying it because he cares.

But in that moment, it felt as though someone had slammed on the brakes just as I was gaining momentum.

I even replied,

"I'm not looking for advice right now."

...and then quietly went back later and changed exactly the parts he'd suggested.

Funny how that works, isn't it?

Have you ever felt that?

You've worked so hard, only to feel as though something suddenly stops you.

Perhaps it's another person.

Perhaps it's your circumstances.

Or perhaps, as in my case, your own body decides you're not going anywhere for a while.

But I've started to wonder whether these interruptions are actually invitations.

An invitation to notice something we've overlooked.

An opportunity to discover a better way.

I've realised something else about myself too.

I really do like being in control.

I feel calmer when I know exactly what's happening.

If things don't go according to plan, I panic.

If someone questions my way of doing things, I panic.

And I suspect that, more often than not, this comes from fear of the future.

Of course, the future we can predict feels safe.

I certainly enjoy living in that sense of certainty.

But what if we allowed room for possibilities we hadn't planned?

Perhaps life wouldn't have to be quite so difficult.

"I don't struggle."

I imagine some people reading this are thinking exactly that.

I used to think the same.

But the truth is, I was trying incredibly hard all along.

Sometimes we convince ourselves we're not struggling because "struggle" doesn't sound like a positive word.

We quietly rename it.

We call it dedication.

Responsibility.

Perseverance.

Anything but struggle.

As I prepared for my Mars period, I planned every day with almost Tetris-like precision.

Yet when I look back honestly, I've also been helped by so many people around me.

My partner is usually strict about everything—what we eat, when we eat, and about not being lazy.

But over the past few days, while I've been bedridden, he's been making pumpkin soup for me.

Maybe life doesn't always require us to swim desperately against the current.

Maybe sometimes it's enough to read the wind,

catch a gentle wave,

and allow it to carry us, peacefully, towards where we're meant to go.

Lying here recovering, that's the thought that keeps returning to me.