One of the most common expressions I hear in my counselling work is, “I shouldn’t feel this way – there are people with much bigger problems than mine”.
I sometimes imagine all 8.3 billion of us meeting to decide which unfortunate soul has had it bad enough to be allowed to say so. Once the votes have been counted and the result announced, I’m sure the person would ask for a recount, insisting that, “somebody else has it worse than me”.
It’s an odd idea, that we rank our suffering. People sometimes talk as though worrying or feeling sad, or anxious, or depressed is a luxury, and that those out there trying to survive don’t have time to bother about such things.
But that only serves to dehumanise people who are struggling, as though they don’t have thoughts and feelings beyond the primary instinct to keep going. People who are striving harder “get on with it” because they have no choice – but they absolutely know grief, anxiety, shame, loneliness, and longing.
Similarly, those considered to have everything in life aren’t magically liberated from pain and hurt just because life is otherwise comfortable.
If I could wave a wand, I’d like for us to not have to see the awkward, unpleasant, and heavy parts of ourselves as things to hide. I suspect that would reduce some of the isolation people feel, because so much shame depends on the belief that our pain is uniquely unacceptable.
When we pass the baton of suffering down the line towards those more “deserving”, it seems little more than a means to keep our distress safely out of view.
It reminds me of family photos on the sideboard, the ones where everyone is smiling, everyone is together, and everyone looks fine. I sometimes think those photos are less about showing off to other people than reassuring ourselves that all is well and there’s no pain beneath the surface.
But that reassurance can stop us from seeing the struggles and the suffering of those closest to us, who might learn that to suffer is shameful unless it ranks among the worst.
Witnessing that shame in a counselling room is deeply moving. To see people wrestle with their suffering because they believe that they should be more grateful for what they have is heart-wrenching.
Whether someone lives a comfortable life or otherwise, their struggles aren’t a matter of should or shouldn’t. Pain doesn’t wait until we’ve earned the right to feel it.
A few years ago, I asked a supervisor of mine how they would respond to the caricature that counselling “is just listening”. I expected him to offer a profound insight from Sigmund Freud or Carl Rogers, but he simply replied, “How many people really listen?”
When someone feels less of a need to defend themselves and starts describing what they feel, they can begin to understand what’s been lost, strained, neglected, feared, or long endured. They might also begin to see that life isn’t an either-or binary: appreciation and hurt can exist in the same person at the same time.
Gratitude is an important part of life. It reminds us of all the good stuff and the blessings we’ve received, but it can become cruel when used as evidence against a person’s suffering.
I tend to avoid debating people’s perspective that their problems aren’t serious enough, and ask instead what it costs to keep them hidden. My problems are far from being the most serious in Malaysia, let alone the world, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist or deserve attention. Why should compassion be a competition?
Perhaps there’s some fear that, once we give people room to speak honestly, the picture-perfect image will fall apart. But the image was never real; it was only a way of keeping pain out of sight.
A lot of people seem to feel that if they’re given space and time to share what’s on their mind, it means they’re ungrateful or weak. It’s little wonder, then, that many learn to withdraw and say less, even when what they most need is someone willing to listen without turning their pain into a ranking exercise.
When people finally speak, they’re rarely asking to be placed above anyone else. They’re usually trying to understand why something hurts, why they’ve hidden it for so long, and whether it’s safe to stop pretending. On its own, listening won’t solve everything, but it can interrupt the shame that tells people their pain has to earn its place.
Sandy Clarke has long held an interest in emotions, mental health, mindfulness and meditation. He believes the more we understand ourselves and each other, the better societies we can create. If you have any questions or comments, e-mail lifestyle@thestar.com.my. The views expressed here are entirely the writer’s own.
