Hierarchy of Suffering. Who wins?
Originally Published on Velveteen Mind
Suburban Oblivion recently complained that her two year old had been replaced by demon spawn. She welcomed any interest in buying him on eBay.
As luck would have it, someone took her up on the offer. Someone that apparently can not have children. Sara responded with an exercise in gratitude, expressing that it sometimes takes getting bitch-slapped in the comments to remember how good you have it.
What followed was a discussion in Suburban Oblivion’s comments that touched on a topic that I take very personally. The topic of gratitude and our right to be ungrateful some days. This is something that I’ve been meaning to write about for some time, but always back down. Sara is a great fire-starter, so here goes.
In response to Sara’s post on gratitude, CharmingBitch said that “some days off-handed comments about selling children hurt worse than
other days. Just like most days with your kids are great but some suck…” I’m paraphrasing. Apparently, some of Sara’s readers took part of CharmingBitch’s comment to suggest that she wanted Sara to be a man and stop complaining. Again, paraphrasing. Actually, that’s conjecture. Nevertheless, CharmingBitch was inundated with emails telling her that Sara has a right to complain about a bad day and to back off.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
To paraphrase my own comment left on Suburban Oblivion: of all people, CharmingBitch knows that playing the “who has the worse life?” game is pointless. More specifically, the “I have no right to complain because your life is worse than mine” game is ridiculous.
Bad days are bad days.
The hierarchy of bad is irrelevant.
CharmingBitch further responded (this was before my comment, by the way):
“I never said Sara (or anyone else for that matter) doesn’t have the
right to complain or vent about a bad day. I know that one life cannot
compare to another and that we all have our own crosses to bear; I get
that, honestly.”
Amen. I have a right to complain about my house washing away. I also have a right to complain about my car looking like a ghetto-fabulous poop heap. It’s all relevant because it is all me.
My problems can not compare to yours, but they are mine.
Do you read CharmingBitch? Let me tell you, my problems could never compare to hers, and yet I don’t hesitate to share my problems with her. Why not? She never tries to “one up” me in the problems game. She could always win, but homey don’t play dat.
After Hurricane Katrina, there developed something of a hierarchy of suffering along the Gulf Coast:
- You lost the bottom floor of your house? I lost my whole house.
- You lost your whole house? I lost my house and my job.
- You lost your house and your job? I lost my sister.
- You lost your sister? I lost my whole family.
- You lost your whole family? I am dead.
That’s right, the ghosts of the dead walk the streets of the Gulf Coast. Their presence is always there, reminding us that it could be worse. We could be dead.
Bullshit.
Your life could always be worse. Someone will always have it worse than you. Seriously. But does that mean that we have no right to complain about the mundane? Hell no.
I’ll complain about our Bar exam woes and the fact that I haven’t had a manicure in forever… all within the same breath. Because they are my problems. They are important to me. Screw you if you don’t think I am grateful enough to keep them in perspective. Your insinuating that I am not keeping my problems in perspective is an insult. Your suggesting that I am not grateful is an outrage.
I got gratitude for you right here. Bend over, let me show you.
The next time someone tells you, “Well, it could be worse…” just slap them for me. What they are saying is that they have no idea what to tell you, you are making them uncomfortable, and they would like to deflect the conversation and preferably end it right there.
“Our bills are killing me. I don’t know where I expect to get the money this month.”
“Really? Well, it could be worse. Your child could have an incurable flesh-eating disease and be deathly allergic to painkillers.”
Wha-what? Um, yeah, you’re right… I don’t know… I mean, I just… Uh, okay, I, uh, well… Okay.
Conversation killed. Now let’s talk about how your mother-in-law insulted your housekeeping, because that is important.
Look, our problems are our problems. We own them. They are ours. I’m not trying to beat you in the competition for who has the worse life. In the end, if you win, what have you won, anyway? Hey, I’ll just give you that one. Congratulations. Your life sucks.
Now I’m still going to talk about how my diamond shoes are too tight. Because they are and I don’t like blisters. So sue me.
I am grateful for everything and everyone that I have in my life. I know how good I have it. But damn it if I have to couch every single fookin’ thing that irks me with “I know it could be worse but…” Hell. No.
The other day, I guest posted over at moosh in indy and dared to complain about how being the wife of a young lawyer sucks. Ass. A big hairy ass. I said that I’m sick of my life being about my husband and had the balls to ask, “When is it going to be about me?”
I then demanded a Volvo wagon, an annual spa vacation, and a housekeeper.
Oh yes I did.
And you know what? I’m going to complain freely when my Volvo breaks down. I’m going to whine when my massages aren’t deep enough. And I’m going to bitch when my housekeeper doesn’t scrub my toilets the way I like it.
I don’t expect you to care. But I do expect you to listen. Because if you love me, you know me. You know that I am grateful and you know that I am not a raving idiot that has no perspective. You know that I know what is important.
And yet you will still let me vent about the small stuff.
Because if you don’t let me vent about the small stuff, I will utterly blow my lid when it comes time to deal with the big stuff.
Get it?
Editor’s Pick by Heather from The Spohrs Are Multiplying: I came across this post when my infant daughter was hospitalized for the third time in her five short months of life. I was tired of other parents in the hospital telling me that her problems were nothing compared to what their own child was going through, thereby diminishing her suffering - and my own. Life isn’t always a contest. I wanted to print Megan’s words and hand them to every parent in the hospital. On her blog, Velveteen Mind, Megan always finds the way to perfectly express what so many of us feel. Read her original post (and the thought-provoking comments) here, and subscribe to her feed so you never miss a word.
Editor
Heather
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August 20th, 2008
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Category:
Anxiety, Depression, Author- Velveteen Mind, Channel- Overcoming Adversity, Coping, Editor- Heather Spohr, Introspection, Self-Awareness, Loss, Grief, Overcoming Adversity, Personal, Philosophy, Psychology, Psychiatry, Mental Health, Relationships, conflict
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A bit twitchy, were you Megan?
A c t u a l l y, you’re spot on. Our stuff IS our stuff, and because it’s what’s affecting our respective little worlds, it’s PERSONAL. Family and close friends do a great job of keeping you grounded, allowing room to vent the everyday.
I have no idea what in our culture started the whole “my junk is worse (better???) than your junk” mentality, but if that ain’t junk I don’t know what is!
BTW, congrats on finally making the Blog Nosh cut! Those editors are tough, huh?
I love this post for the reason I love everything you write, Megan — because you aren’t afraid to jump into the hard topics and to take a real position instead of some namby-pamby, “I’m good you’re good”, non-position. And you are so right about this: a contest of suffering is pointless and detrimental.
I think the issue of friendship, the “you know me” that you raise, is a big one here, though. In real life, our friends should just listen, sympathize, neither judge nor compare. Online, it’s sometimes harder to know whether people consider themselves our friends or just our fans — the latter of which often makes people entitled to be our critics, or at least our judges. And with that sense of entitlement often comes not only a feeling that our words are worthy of critique, but so are our lives. It’s clear you don’t think that people *ought* to have different standards for how they respond to the lives of people they know only online, but do you think they DO anyway? And is there a way (apart from sending them all to read this great post!) to deal with this?
Let me start by saying that I am a ridiculously positive person most of the time.
That being said, I sometimes think I do edit any complaining because of this very reason, SOMEBODY is going to say, “it could be worse”.
Well, duh. Of course.
Yeah, I have four kids. And sometimes I have a serious complaint about SOMEONE. Then I think, no, I can’t bitch about that, it would hurt somebody’s feelings. Because I was actually there once, using drugs to get pregnant the first time during a time where my fertility was in serious question.
Then, I get pissed because, why CAN’T I voice frustrations??? It’s my blog, and it’s the only place I have to get my shit out of my system and make sense of it.
This is so well written. And you’re so right, it’s hard to satisfy everyone, because somebody is going to be hand-wringing more and have it worse. It’s kind of like that “eat your green beans, there are starving children in Africa” argument I was given to guilt me into eating as a kid.
So, on my blog, most of the time I eat my green beans. But sometimes, I don’t fucking want to.
Heather-Great Choice!!
Megan-Great Article!
So dead on. Sometimes I feel like I can’t complain about something because it is so ’small’ in the grand scheme of things but sometimes it really helps to complain a little, get it off of your chest, and happily move on-without resentment. I have to say to my husband “Just listen, don’t interrupt, and I’ll be done and over it.”
This is what I love about the blogging community-most of us get this concept.
This post is wonderful and so true! Everyone is entitled to their own feelings and I get so tired of the “one-up” mentality, those that just can’t let you alone with your issues. You can still have sympathy without empathy if that is how you feel. Just allow us our feelings too without making us feel bad for having them. Bravo!
“Queritor ergo sum,” as Descartes would have said if he’d been me (and if he’d used one of those dicey-looking English-to-Latin translators on the web). I whine, therefore I am.
Still love this post, Still love Megan.
OMG… Have I known Moosh that long, too? LOL!! Thanks for referencing my comment to her. I had to click on it to see WHO SAID THAT, BECAUSE I ALWAYS SAY THAT!! Wouldn’t you know it was me?
Great post, Megan. Another fantastic find by Heather.
Wow, awesome post!
Thank you for spelling it out for me and beating those nagging feelings of guilt I get when I whine.
Guilt, you lose! I am human, hear me whine!
This was a good one for me to read tonight. I’ve been feeling really small for my post recently, asking the internet to help me replace a lost hat.
It’s just a hat.
Guilt, and the hierarchy of pain, you’re so right.
Many worse things happen than losing the perfect hat. And you know what? I still want to find it again, to have someone contact me with one they want to sell. I want that piddly little miracle.
And world peace, of course.
This is still the best post ever. EVER.
holla.