The value of suffering

I. Suffering

The relationship with my abuser feels like both a lifetime and a moment ago which places my fear and anxiety in a precarious position. It’s been long enough for me to have learned to cope on a daily basis, consciously acknowledging that it has no immediate effect on me now, but still horrific enough to still be ingrained in my subconscious. I am not used to the feeling of security, not yet at least. Even after all the time, progress, and happiness I’ve experienced since, I still find my fists clenched and feel knots of tension bloom in my limbs when I’m reminded of my abuse. It could be a thing, a place, a word, or even an action that stirs my anxieties. Nonetheless, my mind will start running faster and my breathing becomes shallow as a veil of panic falls over my mood, all unknowingly to me.

When it comes to carrying my subconscious anxiety, some days are better than others, and some days are worse. Sometimes, it’s all I can do to ignore how I feel push through, one foot in front of another. Other times, I can almost reflexively ignore the fact that something is nagging at my mind. Of course, dismissing the uneasiness doesn’t make it go away, but it’s hard to tell if a bit of anxiety will pass in time or if it’s a sign of something worse on the horizon. Kind of like having a leaky roof that you’re hoping won’t be any trouble later on, so you decide to wait it out for now. I spent so many years keeping fear and anxiety at bay that it’s almost second nature to ignore my emotional state as a means of survival and maintaining sanity (Though now I’m trying very hard to unlearn this emotional numbness). Because of this, anxiety and panic can come at me in a wave. As if the small leak in my roof had become a flood and the water was quickly rising over my knees.

Experiencing triggers and emotional exhaustion throughout the day can make me so sensitive and susceptible to waves of fearful panic and anxiety. It’s tough to stop or prevent the flood when I am still so unaccustomed to listening and acknowledging my feelings in the moment. To be honest, I fail to stop from breaking down more often than I want to admit. When my anxiety peaks, I’m thankful I have my boyfriend, Steve, who offers the empathy, love, and comfort that I don’t have for myself. He has seen me from my very lowest to where I am now, and never fails to tell me how proud he is of me. One thing he mentions is how much I’ve grown because of what I’ve experienced. His words are well meaning and originate from a place of honest love and pride, but they become bittersweet when they reach me.

It’s common wisdom to position hardship as the necessary fuel for growth, and yet, thinking that I needed to suffer leaves a sour taste in my mouth. It’s hard to fully accept that I could not have become a better human without suffering; a suffering that has not only left many parts of me in disrepair but has also harmed those around me. How could I ever be thankful for such a vile and wretched experience? It feels wrong to simply accept my experienced trauma and its aftermath as unavoidable and irreplaceable evils on the path to a better life. If anything, I disservice myself by believing that I “needed” to be hurt to experience growth. A “need” for suffering treads a fine line with believing that I deserved to be abused. The irony of this is that if I gained nothing else over the past two years, the singular piece of knowledge I have definitively gained is that I am valuable. I am worthy of love, and nothing less. Abuse, or anything close to it, will never be in the equation.

In short, yes, I concede that something was gained, but at a horribly steep cost. For a long time, I believed that growth or change, of any kind, needed to be accompanied by extreme sacrifice. This idea is harmful, wrong, and was one of toxic ideas that kept me with my abuser for so long — I thought being hurt was apart of the process. It’s taken a long time to acknowledge this, but it is braver and wiser to have sympathy for yourself.

I do not need to suffer to grow, I never did. It’s toxic to discredit someone’s character by claiming that their growth was due to whatever cruel and random circumstances they faced. The trauma I experienced was not the reason I have become a person, but it was my own ability to change my behaviour, life, and future. That is the most empowering truth in the world.

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