The truth is painful.

“You let her go,” said the monster.

“I didn’t let her go!” Conor shouted, his voice cracking. “She fell!”

“You must tell the truth or you will never leave this nightmare,” the monster said, looming dangerously over him now, its voice scarier than Conor had ever heard it. “You will be trapped here alone for the rest of your life.”

Albeit necessary, the truth is not always pretty.

In Patrick Ness’ book, A Monster Calls, readers are taken through the nightmarish journey of a young boy as he comes to terms with tragedy, pain and loss.

“It’s my fault,” Conor said. “I let her go. It’s my fault.”

“It is not your fault,” the monster said, its voice floating in the air around him like a breeze.

“It is.”

“You were merely wishing for the end of the pain,” the monster said. “Your own pain. An end to how it isolated you. It is the most human wish of all.”

Within this tale, readers are shown the raw, obscene reality of pain and how it relates to truth.

On the surface, one could assume that pain and truth are in constant conflict with one another. Each one looking to assert dominance over our lives. And while that is accurate, there are really only two outcomes for our impending doom – to release the pain thereby accepting the truth, or to die a slow, painful, isolated death as we fight to avoid the truth.

Ness captures the essence of this struggle in one of the most brutally common examples – the pain in death.

As Conor O’Malley, Ness’ young character, struggles with pain and guilt, I am reminded of ways in my own life that I have refused accept the truth and let go of my pain.

“The answer is that it does not matter what you think,” the monster said, “because your mind will contradict itself a hundred times each day. You wanted her to go at the same time you were desperate for me to save her. Your mind will believe comforting lies while also knowing the painful truths that make those lies necessary. And your mind will punish you for believing both.”

“This is why I came walking, to tell you this so that you may heal. You must listen.”

We have all been faced with our own fear of tragedy. Some worse than others. But this mind numbing, heart breaking suffering can only be healed when we accept the truth and let go of the pain. Then, and only then, will we be able to move on from that tragedy.

While death is one of the most common – and most painful ways that we suffer, pain can take many different forms.

Over the last few years of my life I’ve learned how crippling that pain can be. And just how dangerous it is when you start to find your identity in that pain.

Like the truth, pain is unavoidable. Unchecked or untethered pain becomes a monstrous killer that will drag you to the darkest, deepest pits of your very own living hell.

There is nothing glorious in pain. It is just a burden that we cling to because we are too scared to accept the truth, but like Ness’ monster says… “we must tell the truth, or we will never escape the nightmare.”

Everyone accepts the truth and lets go of the pain in their own way, but if that is you, struggling with a pain you think no one else can understand, think again.

Whether its through prayer, therapy, family, friends or a combination of all four, the first step in accepting the truth is to speak it. The first step in releasing pain is to talk about it and acknowledge that it exists.

“You do not write your life with words,” the monster said. “You write it with actions. what you think is not important. It is only important what you do.” 

There was a long silence as Conor re-caught his breath. “So what do I do?” he finally asked.

“You do what you did just now,” the monster said. “You speak the truth.” 

“That’s it?”

“You think it is easy?” The monster raised two enormous eyebrows. “You were willing to die rather than speak it.” 

When you speak that pain you are accepting your truth, and in the end, that truth will save your life. Why? Because that truth is who you are, and the first step in saving yourself is releasing your pain. Only you can save yourself.

“Ibf you speak the truth,” the monster whispered in his ear, “you will be able to face whatever comes.”

And so you speak that truth. The truth that life hurts, and with it come some moments that are so painful they’re almost unimaginable.

And so Conor looked back down at his mum, at her outstretched hand. He could feel his throat choking again and his eyes watering.

It wasn’t the drowning of the nightmare, though, it was simpler, clearer. He took his mother’s hand. She opened her eyes, briefly, catching him there. Then she closed them again.

But she’d seen him.

And he knew it was here. He knew there really was no going back. That it was going to happen, whatever he wanted, whatever he felt. And he also knew he was going to get through it. It would be terrible. It would be beyond terrible.

But he’d survive.

So many times, like Conor, we think that if we don’t speak our pain it won’t become part of our truth – but here we are, the edge of the cliff where you either let it go or it pulls you over the edge.

“You’ll stay?” Conor whispered to the monster, barely able to speak. “You’ll stay until…”

“I will stay,” The monster said, its hands still on Conor’s shoulders. “Now all you have to do is speak the truth.” 

And so Conor did.

He took in a deep breath.

And, at last, he spoke the final and total truth.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said, the tears dropping from his eyes, slowly at first, then spilling like a river. “I know, my love,” his mother said in her heavy voice. “I know.”

We’ve all been in this moment. Too afraid to speak the pain because it becomes a reality.

Conor held tightly onto his mother.

And by doing so, he could finally let her go.

What is your pain? The pain that is slowly killing you from the inside out?

If you’re looking for somewhere to start, look no further than Patrick’s book, A Monster Calls.

Speak it, before you die…