In this piece, I want to talk about something most people would rather avoid, as much as they possibly can, but which is precisely the one thing that will help them move to the next level and achieve their goals, whatever they may be.
I’m talking about…
Yes, yes.
I’m talking about pain.
Now. Not the sharp, physical kind. This is not a BDSM newsletter (yet!).
I’m talking about another kind of pain. The dull, quiet, relentless kind that comes when life doesn’t go your way and you’re left picking up the pieces, wondering what the hell all this is supposed to mean.
You know what I mean?
That moment when the bottom drops out, like…
A breakup.
A diagnosis.
A job lost.
A dream derailed.
And then comes the worst part: someone tries to cheer you up. You know the ones:
“Everything happens for a reason.” “Pain makes you stronger.” “Just stay positive.”
Ogh. Spare me. Spaaaaaaaaaaaaaaare meeeeeeeeeee.
What if I told you the real strength doesn’t come after the pain, but through it? Huh?
That maybe, just maybe, the goal isn’t to erase it, rationalise it, or polish it into some neat moral victory, but to sit with it long enough to see what it’s pointing to.
That’s what I want to write about today: not pain as punishment, but pain as price. The price of building a meaningful life. Hold on, you’ll see what I mean in a second.
There’s crazy study in behavioural science you want to know about. Imagine this:
Two groups of participants were asked to endure small electric shocks. The first group was told they could tap out whenever they wanted. No consequences. The second group, however, was given a different instruction: for every shock they endured, a loved one (someone waiting in another room) would be spared from receiving it.
In other words, their pain now had a purpose. A meaning beyond themselves.
The result? The second group held out far longer. Not because the pain was less severe, but because they could link their suffering to something that mattered. The physical experience was the same, but the psychological context transformed their capacity to endure it.
Just notice how well this experiment illustrates the way we, as humans, interact with difficult situations. If we look beyond the surface, at situations that demand perseverance, at the reality that our projects will rise and fall, that we will face obstacles, setbacks, detours… you name it, we begin to understand something deeper.
See, pain is inevitable. It’s part of being alive.
Now. The difference lies here…
Pain that feels pointless is unbearable. Pain that feels protective, necessary, or purposeful? That’s something else entirely.
Mind you, this isn’t about being a martyr (god forbid!). It’s about understanding something very important for you, something that will change the way you live a hard situation: when the pain means something, we can hold it longer.
Aka: it’s not the sensation that changes, it’s the story we attach to it.
Like Viktor Frankl said:
“He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.”
It doesn’t say you won’t suffer. It says you’ll survive the suffering if it’s rooted in meaning.
Funny how modern life teaches us the exact opposite of what actually matters. We’re told that a good life should feel easy. Comfortable. Painless. We optimise, automate, meditate, gratitude-journal ourselves into delusion trying to always feel better.
But maybe the real work isn’t about removing pain. Maybe it’s about earning it. And by this I mean:
“You cannot wish for both strong character and an easy life. The price of one is the other.”
Read that again.
And again.
(sorry I don’t know who wrote it!)
A bit stoic for my liking, but… it’s just… true.
Because strength, integrity, and purpose don’t come from sunshine, or bubble baths with a glass of prosecco. They come from walking through hell and choosing to keep walking.
I know you’ve been there. Me too, for fuck’s sake.
A life worth living, a meaningful one, comes from crawling through days where nothing makes sense, and still getting up. From experiencing the kind of pain that doesn’t end when you want it to.
But here’s the thing: not all pain is noble. We are no martyrs or subs (at least, I won’t try to be one!). We endure pain every day for things we don’t actually care about. We suffer in silence at jobs we hate, in relationships we’ve outgrown, under expectations we never agreed to.
That’s not meaning, it’s resignation.
What’s the difference, you’d wonder?
See… meaningful pain has direction. Empty pain just drains you.
Like, pain from the hardships of parenthood versus pain from the soulless job with a tyrant boss.
So ask yourself: what are you paying for? Is the discomfort you’re tolerating a down payment on something that matters? Or are you just bleeding out slowly for someone else’s dream (i.e. that tyrant of a boss)?
Hey, you’d better answer with full honesty. Because let me tell you, pain isn’t going anywhere. So make sure you’re the one who decides whether it counts.
Pain, with meaning, gives us a chance to choose who we become. To build something that wasn’t there before (like caring for a dependent person you love, for example). To say, “Yes, this hurts. But it’s worth it.”
That doesn’t mean you enjoy it. It means you stop fighting it just for existing. When you know what the pain is for, it stops being your enemy. It becomes your resistance training. I’ve met people who’ve walked through grief, trauma, addiction, loss… and came out not unscathed, but profoundly changed. And they didn’t find peace in avoiding pain. They found it in giving the pain a role.
A role in their story, a meaningful reason for it to be there.
Maybe that’s what we’re really after. Not to feel good all the time. But to know that when we hurt, it matters.
So no, I’m not here to tell you your pain is beautiful. I’m here to ask you: what is it building? And are you willing to let it work on you?
Because if you are (if you stop treating pain like a sign of failure, and start seeing it as the cost of growing) then maybe, just maybe, you’ll find something sturdier than happiness on the other side.
One last thing, if this stirred something in you, and you’re looking for a book that won’t insult your intelligence, go read Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl. It won’t fix you (I sell no magic pills here!). But it might remind you that even the worst pain can be endured if it’s part of something meaningful.
Love,
Noemi
P.S. If you want to read it, here’s the book by Frankl.
