Note: Last week’s posts were pretty damn depressing. But, I feel ready to talk about the other side of the coin (assuming I have time).
“Uhg! You wouldn’t believe what happened this past Friday!” one of the few high schoolers in my college class sighed as she sat down near her lab partners (who were also all college-attending high schoolers).
“What?” one of her tablemates eagerly whispered as he leaned in.
I too, tuned into their drama, curious to see what trouble they’d gotten themselves in that time. I’ll spare the boring details, as all of it was petty, high school valedictorian drama revolving around the gifted students’ apparent rivalries. Still, I felt envy rising up out of my soul, as I was drowning in grief, guilt, and anxiety while the students a table away from me were “struggling” with the fact that Becky got to read her essay in front of the class, even though her rivals didn’t think her essay was worthy compared to theirs.
As I took my laptop out of my backpack, I silently mulled in my heart, “Oh, if only I had so little going on that I could’ve spent my high school days stressing over petty shit like that. Those kids have no idea…”, when, out of nowhere, a new thought came to mind.
“Are you sure?”
For a brief moment, I stood frozen as I processed the question that my internal monologue had delivered. It felt like someone had lassoed my legs together and ripped them out from under me. But, it was the sharp remark I so desperately needed at that moment, as badly as it stung.
While I couldn’t ponder on it immediately, the question remained in my mind, nagging at me from the back burner. I vowed to explore it as soon as class ended and I got back to my Xterra. But, at the moment, I knew I had to stop my eavesdropping, finish setting up for class, and get things done for the day (as usual).
A couple hours later, I briskly left the college campus for the day, the sun shining through fair skies and a gentle breeze brushing across my face. It was a cool, mid-fall day: a perfect day for a hike. As always, I placed my backpack down in the backseat, clambered into the driver’s seat, and cautiously drove through the college campus and onto the highway towards home.
It was while driving on the highway that I recalled the events and thoughts I experienced just before class began. I thought about what my younger valedictorian classmates were bickering about, and further reflected upon where I was when I was around their age. That, “Are you sure” question also came to mind, full-force, and I began to tackle it head-on as I often did with hard questions.
When I was a senior in high school, I was genuinely baffled to even be a senior in high school. Let alone, holding A’s and B’s in all my classes (which Eric taught, so that probably explains the high grades), and still finding time and energy to properly take care of myself and spend some time out-and-about. I even got to go on a weekend pronghorn hunting trip, as well as visit with loved ones I otherwise wouldn’t have been able to visit had I not been able to take school with me on my laptop.
Sure, life was far from perfect in those days. I had several health scares as a senior in high school (and just felt like shit in general), and my mom’s relationship with her soon-to-be-ex boyfriend was in shambles. Yet, I managed to press on, finish high school on-time with a very impressive GPA, and get on with life.
Compared to what I heard from my younger classmates in college, my life seemed to be impossibly difficult when I was their age. Oftentimes, it was. But, it also wasn’t all bad. I mean, I got to spend the last couple years of high school at home, with an awesome teacher, surrounded by family and friends, and I had more time than ever before to just focus on staying alive and as healthy as I could. I also went on numerous adventures and learned many valuable lessons as a result of my physical and mental struggles.
Could I trade that for a life so boring and devoid of struggle and adventure that I’d either live like Steve-O from Jackass, or base my whole identity and lifestyle on my ability to be a perfect teacher’s pet? Abso-fucking-lutely not!
While suffering never feels very good to the sufferer, oftentimes suffering builds people up and spurs people into action, whether or not they realize it. If humans were happy all the time, we would still be living in caves. After all, if we were already happy, what would've driven us to progress as a society, as beings God made in His own image to be creative and to rule over creation? Why would a perfectly happy, cared for creation want to pursue hard tasks and make things better than perfect?
A huge lesson I've learned through suffering is that suffering is a main driver of progress, and largely makes things better in the long-run. Because I suffered, I tried new things in an attempt to escape my suffering (as did my family). Subsequently, we helped to further progress science for the world as a whole, and I'm among the first people to ever take medications that literally change the hardware of my cells so they work better (it's not DNA/gene therapy, but it's pretty damn close to it).
My family has helped to raise thousands and thousands of dollars towards medical research, and have also learned many valuable things along the way. Because of me, my family learned how to eat healthier, why it's important to stay as physically and mentally active as possible, and my suffering is what has spurred a lot of people in my family and among my friends, who were previously anti-vax to get vaccinated, thus saving more lives.
Suffering has also made me much more appreciative of what I have. Sure, I'm often full of resentment and envy because of my conditions (and sadly towards people who have no idea what it's like to suffer like I have). But, after nearly dying more times than anyone can count, and experiencing literal miracles no doctor who has seen me or read about my case has been able to scientifically explain, I've come to really, really appreciate the tiniest things in life. I find immense joy in observing grasshoppers leap from one blade of grass to another, in being able to breathe without coughing or congestion, in being able to hike unabated, and simply in being blessed with existence. Most people in my age group tend to take everything for-granted, and I've noticed hardly anyone slows down enough to notice the things I do. But, because of what I've been through, I have learned that nothing in life should be taken for-granted. Each day is a gift, especially since tragedy can happen to anyone at any time. And what a wonderful gift existence is!
Suffering has also made me a much more caring and empathetic individual. Ok, I really suck at expressing my love and loyalty towards others (including towards God at times). But, I do the best I can to be there for others and care for others. Just, instead of hugs and daily phone calls, I express my love and appreciation towards others by giving people things like art and meals, doing chores and other tasks for people, and providing help and support to whoever in my life needs it. I've also learned that it's okay to be curious, to ask questions, and most importantly, to just have faith in the face of uncertainty. Faith in others, faith in myself, faith in God, etc.
Suffering has also taught me vigilance. Being vigilant isn't the same as being afraid of what lurks behind every corner. If anything, it's quite the opposite.
To be vigilant is to know the risks, take the precautions to mitigate the risk, but still go out and live one's life. Throughout the covid pandemic, I've remained vigilant for its entirety (and am still very alert and cautious), but never let myself totally succumb to fear. Sure, the fear was ever-present, but I still got on with life, albeit in anti-viral masks and a constant watch on the local virus cases. Had I been only fearful, but not vigilant, I probably would have spent the entire pandemic in my house, never stepping foot into a public place, and never allowing anyone to come within six feet of me. Therein lies the difference between fearfulness and vigilance.
Yes, I am often very much afraid. I often do succumb to that fear. However, that doesn't make me weak, especially since I never let my fear keep control of me forever. I credit suffering for that, too, as it has taught me that no matter how much fear I feel, more often than not, I have to face that fear. Once I do, I often find out that what I was afraid of wasn't something to be afraid of at all, such as driving. Driving still sometimes scares me, but my fear of driving no longer prevents me from getting behind the wheel every day. Of course, I must be vigilant at all times in the vehicle, but oftentimes the fear part vanishes once I'm on the road, and my lizard-brain finally figures out that I can, in fact, keep in control of a 4,500 pound vehicle.
Suffering has also given me (and everyone else) the chance to create meaning and purpose in life. Without suffering, we would have no reason to evolve or progress in life. We would have no reason to venture out into the world and explore, or to find creative solutions to complex issues. There would be no love, no gratitude, no joy, or hope, or happiness, as those things require us to understand what hate and hardship are like. In order to truly understand hate and hardship, we must experience it first-hand. Without suffering, we would simply be blank, emotionless, slates, never knowing or caring enough about anything to do anything ever. Honestly, I find such a world the stuff of nightmares.
Everyone endures suffering, and deals with it differently. Being angry and resentful, no matter how right one is to be angry and upset, achieves pretty much nothing. Begging God to change your circumstances so you can avoid suffering, and then getting pissed at Him for not answering your prayers, achieves pretty much nothing. Fighting over what is the "correct" answer to the question, "If an all-good, all-powerful, all-loving, and all-knowing God exists, then why do people still die from cancer", is simply a waste of time.
What makes things better is action, and figuring out what to do next. Instead of just sit on a sinking ship, wallowing in the fact that the ship is sinking, and cursing God for letting your ship sink in the first place, you need to figure out how to fix and/or survive the sinking ship. Shit's going down regardless of how you feel, or what you think. It's best to ask, "What now?" instead of, "Why me?"
It only took me five years to figure that one out.