The Art of Suffering for Nothing

Would you be willing to eat a worm? Would you be willing to get electric shocks?

As bizarre as these questions may be, they were part of an experiment whose findings were revealed (among others) by the psychologists Ronald Comer and James D. Laird in a 1975 article. The experiment went like this: the subjects were informed that they would need to perform the task of eating a worm and they were left to wait in this “negative expectancy” for 10 minutes. At the end of this time interval, however, the subjects were told that they were able to choose either to eat the worm or to perform a totally different neutral task. This is what the subjects decided to do:

Almost 80% of subjects chose to eat the worm.

Moreover, some of them took one step further and chose to be given electric shocks after eating the worm.

In their attempt to account for these absolutely paradoxical findings, Comer and Laird argued that during the 10-minute interval the subjects had prepared for the anticipated suffering by going through one of the following three changes in their concept of themselves and the situation: 1. They deserved the suffering; 2. They were brave. 3. The worm was not too bad.

Making sense of your future suffering is important, according to Comer and Laird, as a coping mechanism; nevertheless, when the threat disappears, then it is counter-intuitive to suffer willingly.

The question that inevitably springs to my mind, and probably yours, is:  why would one choose to suffer when it’s absolutely unnecessary?

Suffering knocks at our door anyway. Uninvited. Undesired. Unpleasant.

Father Teofil Paraian once said that when suffering comes, we have to face it with dignity. It’s important to find a meaning to our suffering by asking ourselves how to become more patient, how to preserve our inner peace, how to use the suffering for our spiritual growth, how to transcend our limits. There are situations when suffering paralyses people and they cannot do anything but focus on it, not on its meaning. However, essentially, if we don’t learn anything from our pain ot means that we suffer for nothing, meaninglessly. On the other hand, Father Paraian pointed out that “suffering isn’t natural and it’s not natural for us to want to suffer.” 

So, if wanting to suffer is unnatural, why do we still do this? Why do we choose to suffer every single day in dysfunctional relationships or in toxic working places, for instance, when we can opt out?  Why do parents who invest in their child suffer so much that they get depressed and/or fall ill when they see that their child turns into an adult who doesn’t embody the parents’ ideals?

I believe that we choose to suffer because suffering is what we have become familiar with, what we have managed to handle, what we know.

Suffering is our default option.

This option is rooted in the limiting beliefs about ourselves and the world that, regrettably, we still rely on as adults although we are no longer six years old, the age when we started believing that we are worthless, nobody loves us and we don’t deserve to be happy.

Looking up the etymology of the word “belief,” I found out that the oldest use of the word originates in the West Germanic leubh- which meant “to care, desire, love.” Although this meaning was unfortunately lost in time, it sheds light on an aspect that we overlook too often: to believe in somebody, including ourselves, means to love and care about that person.

In her famous Gifts of Imperfection, Brene Brown highlights that when the need for love is not met, “we don’t function as we were meant to. We break. We fall apart. We numb. We ache. We hurt other. We get sick.” Because we are built biologically, cognitively and spiritually to love and be loved, “the absence of love will always lead to suffering.” Brown also claims that “loving and accepting ourselves are the ultimate acts of courage.”

Caring about yourself, stresses Jordan Peterson in 12 Rules for Life, is a moral obligation. How important it is to treat ourselves as if we are somebody we are responsible to help, meaning to do what’s truly good for them. Doing good doesn’t refer to doing what you want or what makes you happy. When you give a child sweets, you make him happy. This doesn’t mean that all you need to do is to give children sweets. You must teach them how to brush their teeth, you must teach them how to get dressed when it’s cold outside (even if they hate it).

“You must help a child become a virtuous, responsible, awake being, capable of full reciprocity – able to take care of himself and others, and to thrive while doing so.

Why would you think it acceptable to do anything less for yourself?” Peterson rightfully asks us.

I’d like to recommend the following exercise: let’s imagine that you work in a place where you are bullied: your confidence is crumbling, and so is your self-esteem, your anguish is building up relentlessly, you are slipping into depression. You try different approaches to deal with that situation, but nothing is really working. You are left with one viable solution: handing in your notice and leaving that harmful work environment behind. However, you don’t do this as the uncontrollable negative voice in your head reminds you: “I just can’t do this. I am a coward. And an idiot. I’ve always been like this and I’ll never change. At least I have a safe job.”

Let’s also imagine that somebody who you love deeply (your child, sibling, partner, etc) were in the same situation as you are and, when they asked for your advice, you would tell them this: “Listen, you know you don’t have the guts to go. You’ve always been like this: a coward and an idiot. The guys at work simply noticed what’s written on your forehead. At least that place is safe and you make some money. Who cares you’re miserable? Just grin and bear it.”

You wouldn’t say that to your child, would you? What would you say instead?

When we suffer, it’s essential to self-analyse, to ask for help if necessary, in order to make sure that we don’t sabotage ourselves. If we suffer for the sake of suffering and we imagine that we are martyrs, well, we’re not.

Nobody will give us a wreath for this.

If our suffering is justified, it is essential to be open to understand, sooner or later, the message of past pain for us. What can I learn about myself? What can I do to become a better, courageous, authentic human being? What can I teach other people who pass through the same hard times?

As artists of our own lives, why would we suffer for nothing?

Where’s the dignity in this?