Suffering still?

Suffering.  Got this one down pat?  The Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale rates the death of a spouse as 100 out of 100, then divorce at 73, marital separation at 65, death of a close family member at 63,  jail at 63.  For me and a lot of us widows and widowers, the actual death and loss of our spouse's company is a mere 100.  It's what comes before or after death, soldiering on in the midst of crisis, that lives somewhere north of 100 on this scale.

I haven't wanted to write about my philosophy of suffering.   I am reluctantly willing to enter it if I have to.  There, I guess that's my philosophy.

I can tell you suffering ends, like all of life's cycles.  I can tell you my life has a shot at shining again precisely because I'm trying to stare that sucker down.  Here are a few things I've tried.  I've had limited success but it's gotten me this far, able to write this blog. 

Out running it gets my endorphins going.  Out sourcing it takes some of it off my plate, if I can afford the hired help.  Out drinking it puts a damper on it temporarily, but I don't recommend it as a rule.  Out shopping it is for me about as dangerous as drinking.   Out eating or out cooking it doesn't appeal, which is a blessing, maybe?  Out humoring it hasn't worked, though it seems to work for a lot of people.  Out socializing drains me, but that's because I'm an introvert.  Out suffering it makes me a matyr nobody likes to be around.  And transcending it makes me a pompous idiot even I don't listen to. 

So my next strategy is outsmarting it.  How?  By listening that little girl inside me.  Maybe I can learn to out love suffering by loving her best I'm able.