Suffering the new black?
Have you ever found yourself in the middle of a conversation where the participants are one-upping each other on what they've endured? Or how about in a conversation where someone is intentionally downplaying their suffering? Sadly, I have. I have both one-upped and downplayed. Just yesterday I was talking to a friend of mine and she made the comment, "well, I only had one loss, so I can't even imagine." Later I was reflecting on our conversation and thinking that, you know what, one loss is pretty excruciating. I am familiar with her story and the suffering she's endured. She doesn't have to downplay her loss to me to make mine feel more significant. She has been an amazing friend through my ordeal saying nothing harsh to me and comforting me the entire time on a weekend away when all I could do was sob. Every time I had a positive test she was one of the first people I'd tell. She'd pray for me and then check in with me regularly after each loss. She was one of the few people who really understood what I was feeling in those days, weeks, and months afterward. And even then because my losses occurred at 5,6,7, and 8 weeks I felt like I was unworthy of the attention she would give because her loss occurred much later than that. I'd think, "surely she had suffered more, so what's my problem?"
When did suffering become a competition?
This is purely conjecture on my part and but it seems to me that there are two extreme, and I would argue equally unhealthy ways that we're trained to handle suffering. One is silence, you don't speak about it. You tell no one. There is no airing of the dirty laundry. Strong. Stoic. Tough. The other is wearing suffering as a badge of honor and competing over who's got the worst story and is therefore by some unwritten rule worthy of the most attention. Forgive the ethnic reference, but I imagine in this scenario a stereotypical group of old Jewish women from NY/NJ sitting around and talking about all their ailments and whose kid is causing them the most heartbreak at the moment. They cash in their suffering as guilt credits that get exchanged for favors from their friends and family. They can be insufferable to be around. That again? Oy Vey!
While the family I grew up in is no where near the extreme of the second scenario, I would say it's on that side of the continuum. My husband's family is more like the first scenario. I want to talk about everything that goes wrong and how I have suffered and sacrificed for, well, him, and so therefore here are my guilt credits, please do X for me. My husband doesn't deal in guilt credits. Turns out neither do a lot of people. That can be very frustrating for someone like me who accepts guilt credits but then rarely gets to cash them in for favors or attention. It's so not fair!!
Since the title of this blog is "totally transparent" I need to confess something. I was pretty angry about my pregnancy losses. And the grief itself was just one component of my anger. What fueled my anger was what I perceived to be a huge lack of support from most of the people around me. Here I was suffering the worst devastation of my life, time and time again, and only getting a fraction of the attention I thought I deserved. And then other people would talk about their suffering and I would feel like it trumped mine so I would feel tremendous shame at wanting attention for my losses. I would work very hard to try to get people to understand how significant my loss was, you know, to move it to the top of the list of worst things to endure to secure a position of attention. I would get resentful of the attention given to others whose suffering I did not perceive to be as great as mine. I remember one woman in particular who whenever the slightest little thing went wrong had people fawning to comfort her and encourage her. Where were my adoring fans to prop me up? Then I would argue with myself over my need for attention. That voice of destruction in my head would cut me down for being so self-centered. The voice of invincibility would speak up against it and remind me of everything I did for others during that time and would give me grandiose visions of all the good I would do for others in the midst of my pain to demonstrate that I could focus externally and was by definition not selfish. I had to prove to that voice of destruction that I was not an attention hog. But the voice of invincibility wouldn't let me stop until I ran myself right into the ground.
When I reflect back on that time now from a position of stability and grounding I can see that I did need attention and it was healthy for me to receive attention, support, and care during that time. It was not selfish for me to ask to be supported. And I think my greatest mistake was seeking that support and help from a social system and environment that was more like the first scenario. In hindsight I can see that I got support from people like my friend I mentioned earlier. I was just so wrapped up in trying to change a group of people from scenario 1 using methods I'd learned from growing up in scenario 2. But neither scenario is healthy.
Scenario 1 pretends that suffering doesn't exist or that it's not "normal" somehow. Scenario 2 embraces suffering as a means for self-promotion and self-gain. We need scenario Jesus, which teaches that suffering is a normal and necessary part of life and that we are to lean on each other and grow closer together and closer to Him in our suffering. Suffering is guaranteed for the believer in the Bible and is not something to avoid, cast off or ignore. It's to be embraced for the fruit it can produce and the glory that it brings to God, not the sufferer. My hope and prayer in writing and talking about my losses and my time of suffering is to do just that, to encourage those in the middle of the storms of life, and to bring glory to God in the triumph that He has given through that difficult time. I hope that I can wear my suffering, not as a badge of honor, but as a gown of glory that points others to His unending mercies. To God be the glory, great things He has done.