I have long been a proponent of people having a sense of proportion when it comes to suffering. Someone complaining about an imagined slight from a friend when another in earshot is mourning the loss of a family member always seemed in poor taste to me. Sure, just because someone else is suffering more than you doesn’t invalidate your own, but some pains are just insignificant compared to others. Or so I thought.
Though I have had a few moments in my life which really should have told me how wrong I was, it wasn’t until someone I cared about had an issue I would have previously scoffed at that I realized my mistake, but since theirs isn’t my story to tell, I’ll use one of mine to explain.
There was a time at school when I was rather downtrodden. Every facet of my physical appearance was mocked and ridiculed, I was spat on, thrown down flights of stairs, my possessions were stolen and thrown away, then at home I would be looking after my sister and walking a tightrope trying not to trigger my dad's temper. You would think these are the things which have stuck in my side to this day, but strangely no, they were my routine. The thought of what I could have been if I were encouraged rather than oppressed bothers me, sure, but what triggers my fury the most is a joke I had thrown back in my face.
I made a self-deprecating joke, and rather than a joint laugh and moving on, my brother chose to hold on to it as a great point of mockery for years to come. A joke. Not a big deal, until you unravel WHY it hurts.
As a result of my “routine”, I became extremely guarded and defensive. I didn’t make connections, not even within my family, and I have always refused to show any vulnerability. However, on that day, I was feeling strong and I wanted to connect to them again, by making a single attempt at showing some vulnerability in an innocent and risk-free way. I made a joke at my own expense… and I paid heavily. To this day if my brother tried to bring it up again I would most probably tell him to go fuck himself no matter what kind of scene I would be making.
A single joke going badly is a tiny thing, but that’s why it hit home so badly. I thought I was safe and I let so many of my hopes ride on it. I held my heart out for the first time in years and dared to hope to be accepted, i dared to trust my brother with a tiny sliver of vulnerability, and I paid for it with repeated humiliation and mockery for years to come. Like the torpedo sent through that unguarded vent on the Death Star, the tiny and insignificant opening that we don’t even bother to guard can lead to the greatest of pains.
In the end it is not the size of the event or the circumstances which matter, but the pain it caused. Who are we to say what matters to another, what emotional weight is attached to a specific event or action? Who are we to tell someone else what in their heart is worthy or not? But it goes further than that, because all those years of people's hubris in telling each other what we should or should not find painful have programmed us to think that way about ourselves, even in the face of our very real emotional pain. When we are wounded by the things we hold sacred and guarded, everyone gathers around us, we indulge in their support and process our pain, however, when we are cut deeply in a place that seemingly holds no significance, we can be nothing but stunned. Far from just others not seeing the problem, we deny ourselves the right to process our emotions. We tell ourselves we are being silly, let our wounds fester and even mock ourselves for our weakness, convinced that it doesn’t matter when the truth is that it is not the circumstance, but the pain itself, that matters.
No one hurts for no reason, whether a spoiled upbringing left a person unprepared for real suffering, whether someone always on guard got betrayed in a moment of trivial vulnerability, or whether someone lost something massive and precious… When a person hurts, they hurt, and no hurt should be beyond compassion.
A "People Watching" Thread by Dante, and mercifully proof-read by Auri.
For more like this, visit https://www.suicideforum.com/community/threads/people-watching.168702/
Though I have had a few moments in my life which really should have told me how wrong I was, it wasn’t until someone I cared about had an issue I would have previously scoffed at that I realized my mistake, but since theirs isn’t my story to tell, I’ll use one of mine to explain.
There was a time at school when I was rather downtrodden. Every facet of my physical appearance was mocked and ridiculed, I was spat on, thrown down flights of stairs, my possessions were stolen and thrown away, then at home I would be looking after my sister and walking a tightrope trying not to trigger my dad's temper. You would think these are the things which have stuck in my side to this day, but strangely no, they were my routine. The thought of what I could have been if I were encouraged rather than oppressed bothers me, sure, but what triggers my fury the most is a joke I had thrown back in my face.
I made a self-deprecating joke, and rather than a joint laugh and moving on, my brother chose to hold on to it as a great point of mockery for years to come. A joke. Not a big deal, until you unravel WHY it hurts.
As a result of my “routine”, I became extremely guarded and defensive. I didn’t make connections, not even within my family, and I have always refused to show any vulnerability. However, on that day, I was feeling strong and I wanted to connect to them again, by making a single attempt at showing some vulnerability in an innocent and risk-free way. I made a joke at my own expense… and I paid heavily. To this day if my brother tried to bring it up again I would most probably tell him to go fuck himself no matter what kind of scene I would be making.
A single joke going badly is a tiny thing, but that’s why it hit home so badly. I thought I was safe and I let so many of my hopes ride on it. I held my heart out for the first time in years and dared to hope to be accepted, i dared to trust my brother with a tiny sliver of vulnerability, and I paid for it with repeated humiliation and mockery for years to come. Like the torpedo sent through that unguarded vent on the Death Star, the tiny and insignificant opening that we don’t even bother to guard can lead to the greatest of pains.
In the end it is not the size of the event or the circumstances which matter, but the pain it caused. Who are we to say what matters to another, what emotional weight is attached to a specific event or action? Who are we to tell someone else what in their heart is worthy or not? But it goes further than that, because all those years of people's hubris in telling each other what we should or should not find painful have programmed us to think that way about ourselves, even in the face of our very real emotional pain. When we are wounded by the things we hold sacred and guarded, everyone gathers around us, we indulge in their support and process our pain, however, when we are cut deeply in a place that seemingly holds no significance, we can be nothing but stunned. Far from just others not seeing the problem, we deny ourselves the right to process our emotions. We tell ourselves we are being silly, let our wounds fester and even mock ourselves for our weakness, convinced that it doesn’t matter when the truth is that it is not the circumstance, but the pain itself, that matters.
No one hurts for no reason, whether a spoiled upbringing left a person unprepared for real suffering, whether someone always on guard got betrayed in a moment of trivial vulnerability, or whether someone lost something massive and precious… When a person hurts, they hurt, and no hurt should be beyond compassion.
A "People Watching" Thread by Dante, and mercifully proof-read by Auri.
For more like this, visit https://www.suicideforum.com/community/threads/people-watching.168702/
