Is suffering useful?

Now and then a vision comes to me unbidden of what I would have been like if I hadn’t been shaped and mellowed by decades of depression and ME. I can just see the totally well Kaye now – so physically and mentally strong that she judges and criticises others who are not as robust, rides roughshod over others because she is so confident that she knows what is best for them and has no understanding of their reality. I mean I’m bad enough as it is! Without these illnesses to show me what a frail and fragile person I am, to make me (slightly!) humble, to give me insight into how hard life can be, I would be a much harsher person.

In the past I’ve thought that the world would be a better place if no one suffered. But from the vantage point of five decades on the planet I don’t think I’d want to live in a world where there was no suffering to learn from. Hmmm… does this make me a masochist? Don’t get me wrong – it hasn’t been fun having these illnesses. I haven’t enjoyed it. But as with a physical workout, once the pain and effort is over I can see the benefits. I think I am more compassionate, empathetic, non-judgmental and simply nicer as a result of the pain. I know how much it means when I am down and someone offers a kind word, when a bus driver sees me running for the bus and waits for me, then smiles instead of snarling. Knowing this I try to show the same kindness to others myself.

It’s not a view I held in my twenties, but in my fifties a world full of people with no personal experience of what it is like to be lonely, sad, scared, frail or miserable seems more like hell than heaven.