It\u2019s been a few days that I\u2019ve had leg pain. The back of my calf and my right ankle hurt intensely, and the pain worsens when I walk. I suspect I overdid the stretching exercises during yoga. When a part of your body aches, no matter what else you\u2019re doing, part of your mind remains occupied by the pain, lowering your quality of life. To relieve the pain and improve my quality of life, I\u2019ve tried various painkillers \u2013 from black seed oil to naproxen and diclofenac. During the times when the painkillers take effect, the pain subsides, and life feels normal again.<\/p>\n
In my kitchen cabinet, I keep a small piggy bank where I collect loose change. Once a year, I donate the contents to a charity and get a new one. Every time I drop money into this piggy bank, it comes with a pang in my heart \u2013 perhaps I saw a street child that occupied my thoughts, narrowly escaped danger, or felt stressed. Based on childhood customs, I somehow believe that giving to charity will make me feel better. (This, too, is one of the strange lived experiences of my generation!) It acts as a painkiller for lingering pains \u2013 a way to restore quality of life. The only thing that brings me comfort in those moments is thinking that the positive energy from the act of giving has driven away the negative energies in my life.<\/p>\n
I took the painkiller, applied the ointment to my leg \u2013 but I know I need to think of something more serious. Perhaps this pain calls for deeper healing.<\/p>\n
For years, we\u2019ve seen piggy banks in every office and at every intersection, always within reach, ready for those moments when social pain grips our hearts \u2013 a way to give and numb the discomfort, hoping not to feel it anymore.<\/p>\n
Last week, while stuck in traffic on my way home, I saw a man holding his young daughter\u2019s hand, using a wire to try to extract a bill from one of those piggy banks. I wanted to get out and help him, but I lacked the courage. I decided that today, I would write \u2013 as a reminder to myself and others\u2026<\/p>\n
Friends, we\u2019ve been dealing with COVID-19 for a year and a half, retreating into our homes. Many of us are grieving loved ones. Friends, even before the pandemic, hundreds of thousands of people in this city were living in poverty. COVID-19 added hundreds of thousands more to their ranks. And our painkillers for avoiding this suffering have multiplied \u2013 we stay home, socialize less, and rarely visit the poorer parts of the city.<\/p>\n
I have no advice to give, as I am lost myself. I just wanted to write this \u2013 Tehran is not well. Painkillers are not enough.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s all.<\/p>\n
Graphic used with the author’s permission.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Last week, while stuck in traffic on my way home, I saw a man holding his young daughter\u2019s hand, using a wire to try to extract a bill from one of those piggy banks. I wanted to get out and help him, but I lacked the courage. I decided that today, I would write \u2013 as a reminder to myself and others\u2026<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":617,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[23,24],"class_list":["post-615","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-life-experience","tag-analgesic","tag-painkiller"],"yoast_head":"\n