James Horton, Ph.D
3 min readMar 2, 2022

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Maria,

Thank you for this comment but given the context I think you are seriously misunderstanding what I am saying.

I can understand why, too, because in the interests of keeping things concise I focused more on the point that I thought was most important at the time, which is that suffering matters and shouldn't be devalued. That's not the same as arguing that there's no growth to be taken from it; I just object to people who use the idea of "grow from it" to devalue the experience of people who are hurt--like the lady who Alison was discussing in this article.

That's what I meant when I said the "silver lining" philosophy is simplistic. Also, when I said that at its worst it can be nasty, stupid, and wicked, I meant the "at its worst" part. Not every version of the philosophy is cruel. But sometimes ill-intentioned or ignorant peole get hold of it and wield it against people who are genuinely hurting, and that's when I think it can start to spill over into thoughtless cruelty.

Here's the problem; you and I both know that it is possible to grow as a result of adversity and pain. I think that's a good way to live; it matches my philosophy well beause I think that it's the only shot we have at redemption; shit's going to happen and you can either let it pile up around your grave or you can use it as fertilizer and try to grow a plant or three before you go. Your call.

The problem comes when we're communicating about suffering, and especially when we're talking about other people who are suffering. Then many (but not all) people start to fall into one of a couple patterns.

1. They minimize the importance of the suffering itself by saying "well just try to make something good of it," which is kind of shitty because that often amounts to someone putting their own personal philosophy above someone else's suffering.

2. They minimize the damage that produces the suffering. Pain isn't just pain; sometimes it signifies real, tragic changes in a persons life that hampers their ability to piece themselves back together.

3. They minimize the sufferer's autonomy. The one who's hurting is also the one who is the greatest authority on the consequences of that pain for their life. They're also the greatest authority on what is (or is not) possible for them in that moment. It's their choice to determine whether they grow from it and, if so, how.

Several years ago I found out I was a Type 2 diabetic. It's not quite the same tragedy that some people face but I'd argue that finding out you have a degenerative disease at age 30 kind of sucks. I agonized over it for a week and then called my dad and told him I was going to figure out how to make something great of it. I think that was the right call.

But if I'd called a friend in the middle of my pain and their response to hearing my fear about dying early was "Welp... at least now you've got an excuse to fix your diet" I'd have recognized them for what they were right away: not a friend.

And my life is not better with diabetes than it would have been without. I'd happily swap the lessons I learned for a fully functioning pancreas.

My original post here wasn't an endorsement of wallowing. It was an agreement with what Alison was saying. When you're dealing with someone who's hurting or struggling the most important thing you can bring to the table is genuine empathy. Not positivity. The second one is appropriate sometimes, but never without the first.

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James Horton, Ph.D
James Horton, Ph.D

Written by James Horton, Ph.D

Social scientist, world traveler, freelancer. Alaskan, twice. Writes about psychology, well-being, science, tech, and climate change. Ghostwriter on the side.

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