Many years ago, when I was going through some of the darkest
times of my life, I came up with a theory.
I was searching for an explanation for why I had to go through so much
hell, particularly when so many others seemed to have it so easy. My life has not been all bad, and,
comparatively speaking, I’ve had it downright easy. But nonetheless, pain, anxiety, and
depression have been my frequent companions.
While things at times seemed overwhelming, I’ve always had a
central belief that we never have more on our plates than we can handle (though
I do admit that that belief is not absolute; I have known some who were faced
with difficulty that they, sadly, could not overcome. We may be strong, but that doesn’t mean that
strength is limitless.). I consider
myself a strong person, but I have friends and family members that have gone
through things that I’m not sure I could ever endure. But these things all made me wonder: why does
pain and hardship seem to be a magnet to some people, yet not to others? Yes, we all go through plenty of difficulty
in our lives, but some seem to go through much more. Certainly, much of it comes from our own
choices, but I’ve often asked myself if there is something more to this, if
there is a reason that this is so. After
all, if everything happens for a reason, then there must be a reason that some
of us go through much more than others, right?
Honestly, I really don’t know. But the aforementioned theory was my attempt
to rationalize this train of thought. I
started to wonder if perhaps the reason that pain and sorrow are more attracted
to some people is simply because they HAVE the strength to endure, like there
is a certain amount of hardship that MUST be endured, and that it is somehow,
on some divine level, divided up according to who can handle what. Everyone has a great deal of mental and
emotional strength, and most people have far more than they realize. We generally don’t realize the depth of our
strength until we are faced with difficulty.
Hardship tests us, and repeated periods of difficulty can overwhelm a
person. But there are those who are able
to somehow claw their way through. But
then, what of the reason for these things?
Could it be that some people are meant to go through much more hardship
than others precisely BECAUSE they can handle it?
Again, I really don’t know.
I created this theory in an attempt to explain my own hardships. But I don’t know that I’ve ever taken it
seriously. I have revisited the theory
from time to time over the years, but I’m never quite sure what to make of
it. True, it has some credence in that I
have seen people endure things that are truly the definition of hell. But correlation does not equal causation, and
it tends to just feel like a cheap attempt at making myself feel better. So I tend to dismiss the theory whenever it
migrates back to the front of my brain.
Up until a few days ago, I hadn’t thought about this theory for several
years. But I found a word, by sheer
happenstance, that has made me revisit this theory once again, and I’m taking a
deeper, more detailed look at it than I ever have.
Every morning, usually right before I eat breakfast, I
review notifications on my phone. Most
of the time, they are mundane and routine; occasionally, I get an interesting
news update or email, but most are generally quite unremarkable. One of the notifications I often enjoy
checking is the Word of the Day from Dictionary.com (as an English Major, I
must confess to being a geek about all things etymological and lexicological,
so I very much enjoy learning new words).
Much to my surprise, the Word of the Day for March 31 was Weltschmerz, a
German word that was defined as “Noun - sorrow that one feels and accepts as
one's necessary portion in life; sentimental pessimism.”
When I read this word and its definition, my theory came
screaming back into my mind. I’d never
put much stock in it because it somehow seemed to be missing something. Weltschmerz seemed, in some way, to validate
my theory (leave it to the Germans to come up with a word for such an utterly
depressing state of mind). I compared
the definition given to several other sources (while I generally trust
Dictionary.com, I have noticed that its definitions tend to be somewhat
romanticized, which can, and often does, lead to inaccuracies that make true
comprehension of a word difficult).
While there was some disparity between different sources (no doubt owing
mostly to the fact that words don’t always have a perfectly clean translation
between languages), the consensus I got was that Weltschmerz is generally used
to describe a feeling of sentimental pessimism or world-weariness.
Sentimental pessimism or world-weariness. This concept makes perfect sense to me
because I lived this for so long (and I’d be a liar if I said I was completely
free of it now). Everyone has had
particularly rough patches that lead them to occasionally wonder if this is
just their lot in life. You feel the
full weight of the difficulty, but you are powerless to do anything about it. That powerlessness inevitably leads you to
question your own strength and the nature of your life’s path. It is a terrible feeling, and one that is
incredibly difficult to combat. But a
feeling is not truth. My theory was an
attempt to explain this, and, while words like Weltschmerz lend some credence
to it, I don’t believe it to be completely true. However, I also feel that I can’t completely
dismiss it.
The problem with my theory is that it is unprovable. It is rooted in the above-mentioned belief,
shared by many, that everything happens for a reason. Many people, particularly those who are
religious, believe that everything is preordained. I have never been able to wholeheartedly
believe this, but I don’t dismiss it because we simply don’t know. I may be agnostic about religion, but that
doesn’t mean I am right and they are wrong; it just means I question
things. The point here is that these
kinds of beliefs, like my theory, are inherently unprovable, and we run into
trouble (I nearly drove myself insane when I tried to “discover” the reason for
my abysmal lack of a love life; fortunately, I eventually realized the
foolishness of such an endeavor) when we rely too much on them or work too hard
to try to prove/disprove them. Rather,
we need to accept them for exactly what they are: a statement of fact that
there will always be things that are beyond our ability to control, and that
all we can do is weather them to the best of our ability.
It is natural for us to question things when we are going
through hardship. We want answers. We want to know we’re going to pull through
somehow. But looking for answers that
cannot be found can be just a detrimental, and, even if we find answers, they may
not be what we were hoping. By that same
token, giving into the sentimental pessimism of weltschmerz is no better;
believing that grief and misery are simply your lot in life is degrading and
incredibly damaging to a person’s psychological wellbeing. It will make you feel like less of a person,
like you somehow deserve this. I speak
from a great deal of experience on this; giving into these feelings has led me
to have a great deal of insecurity, and has probably also been a contributing
factor in my anxiety disorders.
The bottom line is that there is no universally right way to
handle such things, but there are many wrong ways to do so. Psychologists use a five-step process known
as DABDA (an acronym meaning Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance)
to explain how we deal with grief, but I belief that this model can be applied
to most forms of hardship because acceptance is the most difficult part. It comes after everything else because we
have to fight so hard for it. We have a
subconscious need to exhaust all other possibilities before truly accepting
something.
Concepts like weltschmerz fit into the DABDA model under
Depression because it is at that point that you begin feeling like your
hardship is simply your lot in life. As
such, it is perhaps the most difficult to combat because of how detrimental
such depression is. But, by that same
token, it is also what shows you your true strength is, and, when you look back
on it, you feel a sense of amazement that you managed to find your way through. I know I certainly do; I occasionally look
back at old blog posts and journal entries and wonder just what the hell I was
thinking when I wrote them.
These feelings of pessimism and cynicism are natural
outgrowths of pain, but we must be careful of them. It is far too easy to become caught in them,
and they lead only to bitterness. Rather,
we need to learn what we can from them and allow them to pass because they are
one of the many steps to healing wounds.
For some, traces of these feelings will always remain because the wound
was too deep to ever fully heal. But
even with such scars, one can reach a place of balance.
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