I suffered a huge disappointment the other day, and as usual I began comparing my hurt to that of friends. A child who died. A husband who faced a terminal illness. A mother who struggled to meet the daily needs of her severely disabled son.
And I did what I normally do. I beat myself up for feeling sad at all. "Look what they're dealing with. You have it easy compared to them. What right do you have to feel sad? You have so much to be grateful for."
While I did have much to be grateful for, I also had something real to feel sad about. Comparing my losses to others' wasn't helping me process the emotional pain I was experiencing.
I told a friend what happened to me. "Oh well," I said, "it could be much worse."
"Yes, it could be worse, but remember what you told me after my husband died? I was afraid I was complaining about my circumstances too much, and you reminded me that my pain was my pain. It was okay to feel bad. Acknowledging the hurt was the only way I could get to the place of accepting what had happened."
Light bulb moment. My pain was my pain, and it was real. I wasn't to wallow in it, of course, but I needed to acknowledge it, process it, come to terms with it, and talk to the Lord about it. I allowed myself to experience the sadness until finally I reached a place of acceptance.
