Sometimes we only recognize the value of certain things when they are no longer there. But do we really have to go through hard times to understand happiness? Perhaps we should talk less about what suffering has taught us
Benjamin Trinidad Segura
5 min read
When was the last time you were truly happy?
Not content. Not relieved. Not simply in a good mood.
But happy.
And how did you know?
Was it a special moment? A major achievement? A goal you had worked toward for a long time?
Or was it something completely ordinary?
A dinner together. A conversation. A quiet evening. The feeling of having nothing to worry about.
Perhaps the strange thing about happiness is that we often recognize it only when it is gone.
We humans have a remarkable ability: we get used to our circumstances.
To the good just as much as to the bad.
What made us happy yesterday may already feel normal tomorrow.
Our first apartment. Our first proper paycheck. A relationship. A career success.
At some point, our standards change.
What used to be a wish becomes an expectation.
And as we focus on what we still lack, we sometimes lose sight of what we already have.
Not necessarily because we are ungrateful.
But because we are human.
There is this idea that we need hard times to understand what happiness really means.
I understand what people mean by that.
Someone who has lost financial security may see a steady income differently.
Someone who has experienced loneliness may especially appreciate when someone stays.
Someone who has lost a loved one knows the value of time together in a way that is hard to describe.
But I think we should be careful with this idea.
No one has to experience hunger to be allowed to appreciate food.
No one has to lose someone to be able to love them.
And no one has to be unhappy first to know what happiness means.
Difficult experiences may change how we see things.
But that doesn't mean we needed them.
We like to say that hard times make us stronger.
Maybe that's true sometimes.
But not always.
Some experiences make us more cautious. More distrustful. More fearful.
Some leave wounds that don't simply disappear just because we've learned something from them.
And some people have to devote a considerable part of their strength to coping with things others never had to experience.
It would be unfair to try to turn that into a success story across the board.
Not all suffering has a higher purpose.
Not every loss leads to personal growth.
And not every difficult period makes us better people.
Sometimes something was simply awful.
And somehow, we still had to carry on.
Perhaps real strength doesn't lie in the fact that we suffered.
But in what we do with our lives afterward.
We often look for happiness in extraordinary things.
In big goals. Achievements. Experiences. Changes.
In doing so, we may overlook the conditions that make such moments possible in the first place.
Security.
Health.
People we trust.
The freedom to make our own decisions.
A home where we feel comfortable.
For someone who has all of these things, they may not sound very remarkable.
For someone who has long been without one of them, precisely that can be a source of immense happiness.
But we shouldn't romanticize this either.
A safe home, enough food, or human affection are not special rewards of life.
They are basic needs.
We should be glad when someone finds security again after a difficult time.
But we shouldn't forget that this security ought to be taken for granted.
Perhaps we should also stop comparing our happiness with one another's.
One person is happy about a promotion.
Another is happy to finally be able to pay their bills.
Someone is happy about a new car.
Another is happy to be able to get up again without pain.
Which of them is happier?
And why should we have to decide that at all?
Our experiences influence the meaning we give to certain things.
What one person takes for granted can be another's lifelong dream.
But that doesn't create a ranking.
You don't have to be less happy just because someone else has less.
And you don't have to downplay your problems just because other people have bigger ones.
Gratitude doesn't mean we can no longer have wishes or worries.
Both can exist at the same time.
We can't prevent our lives from changing.
People come and go.
Plans fail.
Certainties disappear.
And sometimes we face situations over which we have no control.
But perhaps we can influence how attentively we move through our lives.
Perhaps we don't have to wait until something is gone to recognize its value.
Perhaps we can ask ourselves today:
What in my life would I miss terribly if it were no longer there tomorrow?
And which of those things am I treating right now as if they were a given?
Not so that we live in constant fear of loss.
But so that we notice more consciously what is here.
Not every beautiful experience has to teach us something.
Not every happy moment has to be earned.
Not everything has to have a deeper meaning.
Sometimes we are simply allowed to be happy.
About someone.
About a conversation.
About a good day.
Or that nothing bad has happened for once.
We don't have to go through a dark time for a bright moment to have value.
Perhaps the art lies in noticing the light while it's still there.
And what if we can't see any right now?
Then that doesn't mean it can never become light again.
Maybe not today.
Maybe not tomorrow either.
But someday.
And sometimes this change doesn't begin with our lives suddenly becoming perfect.
But with discovering something we can look forward to again.
Discussion
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