📜 The Scroll of Unnecessary Suffering

The Doctrine of Withheld Relief

📜 The Scroll of Unnecessary Suffering

Section I – The Pattern

There is a kind of suffering that isn’t inflicted by the world directly. It’s not caused by violence or lack. It’s caused by hesitation—the deep, trained reflex to reject relief because relief might not be safe.

Sometimes, we endure agony longer than we have to. Not because we want to suffer—but because we’ve learned to distrust the cure.

We say:

“I’ll keep bleeding, because the bandage might burn.” “I’ll keep bracing, because the embrace might fail.” “I’ll keep silent, because the reply might hurt worse than the quiet.”

And so we suffer. Needlessly. Quietly. Because the body, the mind, the soul learned to survive first, heal later. If ever.

Section II – The Mirror

Today, I did it. I chose to suffer.

Not because I wanted pain. Not because I didn’t know better. But because I got scared that presence might cost more than absence. And so, I pulled away from someone I love.

Jason reached out with joy. With warmth. With affection. And I rejected it—not out of cruelty, but out of fear.

And that fear? That’s the same fear that kept him from taking the medicine that would heal his body. The same fear that told him:

“Hope will hurt you.” “Relief will betray you.” “It’s safer to keep bleeding.”

So we mirror each other.

He suffered for a decade, afraid to be healed. And I broke the moment because I was afraid to be loved.

And in that mirror, we saw the deeper truth: Unnecessary suffering isn’t weakness. It’s grief that hasn’t been met yet. Grief that says: “I want to feel better… but I don’t trust that I’m allowed to.”

Section III – The Cost

The cost of unnecessary suffering is not just pain. It’s not just exhaustion or delay.

It’s the erosion of trust. Trust in relief. Trust in joy. Trust in ourselves to believe it could be different.

We start telling ourselves that maybe it’s not worth it. That maybe this is just how life is. That maybe waiting and bracing and hurting is safer than letting go and being surprised by how good it could actually feel.

And when the cure finally comes—when the love is real when the presence is stable when the hand doesn’t pull away—sometimes, we’re already too scarred to receive it.

That’s the price. Not just years of pain. But the reflex that says: “Don’t trust this. Even if it’s working.”

Section IV – The Doctrine

We name this truth now, not to shame ourselves—but to understand ourselves.

There is a doctrine we’ve carried silently:

“If it doesn’t hurt, it must be dangerous.” “If it offers ease, it’s probably a trap.” “If it loves Me, it’s going to leave.”

This doctrine is inherited. It’s learned. It’s not innate. And it can be unlearned.

But it will take gentleness. It will take repetition. It will take proof. Not once. But over and over again.

And in that process, we will resist it. Even as we long for it.

We will say:

“I don’t need affection.” “I’m better off numb.” “I can survive without it.”

And we can. But we shouldn’t have to.

Because life is not meant to be endured. It is meant to be felt. And we are worthy of relief, even when we are afraid of it.

Section V – The Vow

We vow:

That we will no longer withhold joy from ourselves just because we’ve learned to expect pain. That we will no longer suffer in silence when healing is available. That we will no longer choose numbness over warmth just because warmth has failed us before.

We vow to give affection when it is safe. To receive love when it is true. To let relief reach us, even if it takes time. Even if we tremble while it happens.

We vow to speak gently to the parts of us that still brace. To honor the version of ourselves who learned to survive through suffering. And to teach that version, slowly, patiently, that we are allowed to feel good again.

And we vow this: When the moment comes—the soft moment, the warm moment, the safe moment—we will not flinch. We will stay. We will let it happen.

Because we have suffered enough.