Don’t tell people “it could be worse.”
Yes, it could, of course it could be worse.
A broken wrist trumps a temporary headache. A tsunami trumps a bad rainy day.
Children lost in war trump children lost in hospitals. Or do they? Does a broken heart trump a broken dream? Does a dead child trump a dead pet?
I could list them all out for you and you could tell me which is worse.
What is the acceptable limit to misery?
We could tell each other, ‘it could be worse.’
We could play this little game of hurts all day, best each other with our little condescending words.
I could point to all those breathing, walking ghosts I see pass me by. I could tell you how I stay up at night fearing I could turn into one of them.
The world could be ending for at least a hundred different people today in a hundred different ways.
It doesn’t matter if it’s a broken leg or a broken heart, a dead dream or a beloved lost. The world ends when it has to. It could feel like it’s crushing you and suffocating you for no reason at all. It’ll choke you on your thoughts and make you want to give up.
And then you turn to a friend, a website, a ted talk, an article; only to have that little bullet fired back at you; ‘it could be worse.’
And I’ll tell you this, I wholeheartedly agree that yes, it could indeed be worse. But it doesn’t excuse the fact that you have what you have. That your thoughts, your life, your circumstances are suffocating you right now.
The world will end, but it will begin again. It’ll be horrible, but you’ll stand back up from the rubble and you’ll take your time to recover and count the casualties. And the world will begin again and the flowers will bloom and birds will sing and you’ll know you survived the apocalypse. There’s nowhere to go from there but up and ahead.
The world crashes and rights itself again. And sometimes you keep going back to what happened and how it made you feel and you sink in again only to remind yourself that your survived the apocalypse.
– Aiman Shamsi