When I climbed my mother mountain, I was still in denial. I cried so many times. So. Many. Fucking. Times. But unlike in the movies where the characters let out their bottled up emotions by screaming and shouting and swearing and cussing, I did it in silence.
I know, because I've been there many times before. But unlike others who gave up, I lived to tell the tale.
I settled for the less physically painful, but it is the kind of pain that I would have to endure for the rest of my life. This is the kind of suffering preferred by the brave souls.