Have you noticed that pain hurts, no matter how bad it is? Whether it’s physical or emotional, whatever pain we’re having at the moment seems worse than anything we’ve had before.

That’s because we’re feeling it right now, in the present.  We might have actually had worse pain in the past, but it’s a memory.  We remember previous pain, but we feel the current pain.

I’ve had two hernia surgeries over the past few years.  After the second one, the doctor told my wife: “He’s going to complain about how much worse it is this time.  But it’s not.  It’ll be the same as it was last time, but he won’t be feeling that previous one.  He’ll be feeling this one, and it’ll seem bigger than anything before.”

He was right.  I hadn’t heard that conversation, so I whined appropriately. 

My wife just smiled.

Comparing Pain

We’ve all probably been going through something painful, and we tell another person about it.  We’re looking for support, but they describe a time when they went through something similar – and how it was worse than yours.  The unspoken message is, “You think you’ve got it bad – let me tell you what happened to me.”

It’s not very comforting.

I learned an amazing lesson about comparing pain a few years ago, from a good friend that had developed the wisdom of experience.

Roger and I were driving together from Phoenix to Prescott, Arizona.  He was a friend, and the pastor of a church outside of Phoenix.  I was going to be speaking at a retreat he had arranged for the men of his church at a mountain retreat center.

My kids were teenagers at the time, and they were being . . . well, teenagers.  It had been one of those weeks where they were making choices that didn’t make sense to me.

All parents have been there, wondering why the doctor didn’t send home an instruction manual when the kids were born (or at least a return label).

In one challenging conversation with my teenage daughter, I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t accepting my advice (which was very wise, of course, in my own eyes).  She and my son were really such wise and mature kids, but sometimes they were insistent on making some crazy choices.  At the end of one conversation my daughter said, “But, Daddy . . . I want to make my own mistakes.”

It just didn’t make sense, and my mind was swirling with frustration.  It had been all-consuming for several days, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind.

Roger offered a good listening ear as I shared my pain.  I knew things would turn out OK, but I was in the middle of the battle — and it was painful.  All I was focused on was my feelings, and Roger helped me gain perspective.

But after whining for a half-hour or so, I suddenly felt ashamed.

I was rambling on about the pain I was feeling — pain that would soon pass as my family worked through our issues.  But Roger had an 8-year old son who was dying of cancer, and had about 3 months to live.  

Talk about pain.

I had been so wrapped up in my own pain that I had forgotten what he was going through.  My pain was temporary; his would be permanent.

I couldn’t believe I had been so uncaring and callous.

“Roger,” I said, “I can’t believe what I’ve been doing.  I’ve been whining about my kids being kids, and you’re about to lose yours.  I’m so sorry . . . my pain is nothing compared to yours, and I haven’t even acknowledged it.”

I’ll never forget his response:

“Don’t worry about it.  Pain is pain.  That’s one thing I’ve learned through all this.  When you hurt, you hurt.  What I’m going through will last longer, but that doesn’t mean you’re hurting any less.”

He continued: “Nobody likes pain.  Yes, I’m going to lose my son, and it hurts like crazy.  Sometimes it’s all I can think about.  But if you break your arm or burn your hand or lose a job, it hurts like crazy.  We can’t compare.  We just care for each other in our pain.”

A Fresh Perspective on Pain

His words have stuck with me for years.  Here’s what I’ve learned about pain:

• Pain hurts – no matter where it comes from.
• If I think my pain is bigger than yours, I’m telling you to suck it up and quit feeling.
• If I think your pain is bigger than mine, I’ll feel guilty for feeling the way I do.

Your pain is real.  My pain is real.

Maybe we should stop comparing.

Here’s a place to start:

Think of a friend who’s going through a really tough situation:

• Maybe their most important relationship is dissolving.
• Maybe they have an illness that could be chronic or terminal.
• Maybe they’ve just lost a family member and are grieving the loss.
• Maybe they’re watching a dream disappear, or an opportunity vanish.
• Maybe they’ve been given notice of termination at their job.

Now, think of the toughest thing you’ve faced recently (or are currently facing).  What does it feel like?  Capture that feeling in as much detail as possible.

When you compare your pain with your friend’s pain, what goes through your mind?

How can you capture an accurate perspective on your own pain, and allow yourself to feel it honestly?

And how could you support your friend in his or her pain without measuring it against your own? 

What will you do in the next week to walk with them in their journey?

You won’t take their pain away – or your own.  But you won’t be walking that journey alone.

When have you shared your pain with someone else in pain, but did it without comparison? I’d love to hear your story, so post it in the comments below.