You and I and all of humanity - how mightily we wrestle to reconcile the heartaches and losses, debilitating diseases and devastating betrayals, and it's a beating sometimes, this pervasive pain. Why do we have it? Why must we suffer?
I don't know that there's one solid answer.
But in the last few months, through the decline and eventual death of a favorite, long-time client, one thing I'm reminded of is that suffering can be a proving ground. It's where we can learn for ourselves who we really are, who we want to be, what we have to give.
Up to the very end of her life, Barb worked to impart her hard-earned wisdom about cancer, and how to persist with grace, even in the ugly face of it. She would have gladly given the (gorgeous) wig off her head to help someone else through what she knew was a terribly difficult road. I'm still so proud of her for that.
Barb didn't ignore, hide from, wallow in, cover up or forget her difficulties; she used them as fuel to embolden and educate herself and others. That's her brave legacy.
How can we do that? I mean, if we're going to suffer - and all of us will in one way or another - how can we get something, anything good out of the misery? Try this:
Remember what you learned that's of practical value, and share it.
Example: Hospitals are strange and intimidating places, with their own cryptic rules and codes, and squads of trained professionals speaking often indecipherable languages. More than anything, I hate spending time in the hospital, but I've done it a lot, and along the way learned some tricks to make it a little more pleasant. So I try to step in for my friends if asked, and help them be more informed and comfortable patients.
Remember that you didn't break.
As long as you're still alive, you've probably got it pretty good, and things might even get better. Example: My friend Mary's beautiful and perfect daughter Aspen lost her foot in an accident when she was four. Now she's six, competes (and wins!) in gymnastics with all the other girls her age, and is still beautiful and perfect. She's also really, really tough.
Acknowledge the positive things this hardship brought into your life.
Example: When our oldest was twelve he was very ill, and took steroids that, in addition to some awful side effects, made him ravenously hungry all the time. Nothing I cooked was enough - he always wanted MORE and BETTER - so he read cookbooks and learned to make what he liked. Fast forward six years and he's been accepted into Texas A&M's food science program, makes a stunningly delicious paella, and brings our family joy and pride with every meal he serves.
If you are struggling to find your next steps during or after a hardship, I'd love to help. My first session is always free and confidential. Give me a call when you're ready.
