King’s Reflection: You Can’t Outrun Pain; You’ve Got to Face It Like a King

When I look in the mirror.

That man staring back has tried everything to outrun it.
He out worked it.
He out prayed it.
He out pleased, out hustled, out moved it.
But pain?
Pain doesn’t budge. It waits.

It’s clever.
It disguises itself as silence, sarcasm, overwork, fatigue, short tempers, and fake peace.
But it always shows up.
And if it’s not faced it leads.

Pain is patient like that.
It doesn’t announce its arrival.
It sits in the tension behind the eyes.
In the weight carried on my chest at 2 a.m.
In the subtle flinch when someone asks me, “Are you okay?”

It waits for the performance to fade.
And then it speaks.

Through stomach knots.
Through her disappointed gaze.
Through the quiet regret after another moment of betraying my own truth.

That man in the mirror he was never taught to face it.
Only to delay it.

I was taught to numb.
To suppress.
To push through.
To never talk about it.
To “get over it.”

But now I know the truth.
You can’t heal what you won’t face.

And that hidden pain?
It leaks.

Into relationships.
Into decisions.
Into conversations.
Into fatherhood.
Into leadership.

There’s nothing more dangerous than a soul disconnected from its own wounds.
Because without truth leadership turns into control.
Power turns into reaction.
Presence disappears.

But Kings don’t avoid the fire.
They walk through it.

Not for attention.
Not for revenge.
But for freedom.

Because when pain is faced, it loses its grip.
The man stops reacting and starts responding.
He stops performing and starts healing.

That pain isn’t the enemy.
It’s the teacher.
It’s the buried truth calling him higher.

Strength isn’t in avoidance.
Strength is staring in the mirror and telling the truth.
It’s sitting in discomfort without running.
It’s feeling fully and choosing posture over panic.

You can’t protect your kingdom if you won’t confront your wounds.
And you can’t lead others from a place you keep abandoning.

This pain it doesn’t just sit in the body.
It echoes in tone, silence, and distance.

But here’s the shift:

That man in the mirror he doesn’t have to stay stuck.

He can walk through it.
He can own it.
He can rise like a King who knows what’s waiting on the other side is far greater than the lie he’s been living.

Closing Reflection:

I can’t outrun pain.
 I was never supposed to.

I was built to rise into it.
Present. Grounded. Rooted in truth.

That’s posture.
Not perfection.
 Not pretending.
Just presence real and unshaken.

So if that man in the mirror is still carrying what should’ve been healed…

Let him speak.

Let him feel.
 Let him face it.

Let him rise again not for the world,
but for the King within.

👑