Sadness. An emotion which has layers and complex causes, connections and consequences. It can be experienced by all, but each situation varies in degrees and reactions. We as a society have started to dissect this feeling and reduce its stigma by discussing it more openly and often. However this could cultivate an unusual concept: a sense of competition between sadness.
There are instances where I hear a dilemma from a friend or a family member. It could be a negative experience, uncomfortable situation, or a personal battle but somehow, I find myself subconsciously comparing my own experiences to theirs. Analysing each detail of both our scenarios to see who has been through worse, whose feelings are more ‘serious’. Fortunately, after reflecting on this, I realised that it was unhealthy behaviour, leading to disregarding the other person’s feelings and prioritising my own emotions. Yet I was still confused why I kept repeating these actions—what was the cause of such convoluted thinking?
Like many emotions, sadness may come in short bursts that briefly cloud the mind, but unhappiness also possesses a terrifying quality: it can be prolonged. Sorrow can grow and loom over the mind, until a thick fog hangs and only a lonely street lamp seeps out faint light. But if the fog clears and the sadness has passed, when comparing your experiences to someone who hasn’t been through as much as you have, you feel stronger. There is a sense of toughness that serves as armour—you have been through a difficult experience but have made it out alive, which seems like a close cousin to a ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ mentality. This constructs a sense of exclusivity, a quality that humans crave, when comparing sorrows.
The desire for exclusivity is to understand that you have something which another person doesn’t, and that they have to pass a barrier to be included. In this context, you could evaluate whether another person is ‘worthy’ of the reaction they have developed due to their hardships. But it doesn’t seem as though someone who has gone through ‘less’ than you could possess the emotional strength you think you have, thus creating an exclusive environment.
This exclusive nature is one of the reasons why sadness or trauma is romanticised in popular culture. This can be seen largely on social media, where mental illnesses are glamorised. People take aesthetic, pastel colour graded photos of pills, cigarettes, bruises and mascara-stained cheeks. This can root other ideas, like perceiving people who read books and watch movies that aren't incredibly sad as not ‘deep’ enough to understand misery, meaning they cannot feel emotional toughness.
Sadness is complex in itself—a whirlwind of fog, clouds and dim streetlamps which litter the pavements and crevices of the mind. Yes, it has depth, but so does every other emotion. Bittersweet feelings of exclusivity when comparing sadness and the glorification of depression in media takes away from the fact that every other emotion is multifaceted. Happiness, excitement, jealousy, curiosity and so many more also carry depth and are unique. They can make you emotionally stronger, they can make you reflect and think profoundly, just as sadness has the ability to.
Suffering is not a competition or an opportunity to invalidate someone’s feelings. Instead, it is an invitation to care and listen to vulnerability, no matter how much fog has clouded you.
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