When I was eleven, my sister pushed me out of a moving truck while riding on the tailgate. I was left on the road unnoticed, and I had no choice, but to dust myself off and walk home alone. When I got there, she told me not to tell my mother what she had done, and she insisted I was fine. But I wasn’t fine at all.
My arm was severely broken in three places, and the back of my head bloody, and pounding from hitting the asphalt at 35+ miles per hour.
Not wanting to tattle on my older sister, and hoping, somehow my shattered bone would heal on its own, I made it through the day holding my broken arm together with my other hand.
By nightfall, I could no longer stand the pain, and finally told my mother and her friend, a strawberry farmer, and the owner of the truck, what had happened. They took me to the emergency room, and then to pizza and ice cream. I remember thinking how amazing it was that once the bone was set and the cast was on the pain stopped, and so it is with most pain.
Do not hesitate to ask for help if you are hurting, know that your pain is a messenger, and asking for help is the cure.
Love and blessings to all.