Pain is Pain: You shouldn’t have to feel guilty for your emotions

I’m an emotional person. Ever since I was little, I’ve cried about everything. Whether it’s not getting my way in an argument with my little sister, getting a bad grade on my Biology test or watching “The Notebook” for the eleventh time — I can’t hold back my tears. 

The moment Gov. Laura Kelly announced school would be canceled for the rest of the semester, I was devastated. It finally hit me that this virus was not just another meme-able joke that would go away and the effects were actually major. No more hanging out with friends, no more last minute trips to Chick-Fil-A, even simple errands to CVS would be a hassle.

In all moments of my sadness, my happy-go-lucky dad has always emphasized the importance of gratitude. So with the coronavirus’s impact on our entire way of life, Dad’s been pushing his mantra of “look at all the things you have rather than what’s missing” more than ever.

Although I know my dad is right and gratitude is important, that doesn’t make me any less sad. Life as I knew it had been taken and twisted into a new world far from normal. Grocery store trips would have an added layer of stress with gloves, masks, wipes and the endless reapplication of hand sanitizer. All social interactions with my friends would be separated by the six foot boundary — if I was even able to interact with them at all. 

And I was rightfully sad about it. My dad tried to help me cope in the best way he knew how:

“There are people dying, and all you have to do is stay inside.” “Your ancestors had to fight in wars and battle with far worse things than this.” “If prisoners in the Holocaust were able to find joy through art and music, then you can too.”

My sadness quickly shifted to guilt. How could I be sad when hundreds of people are dying, when millions of people have it far worse? But I shouldn’t have to feel guilty for being sad, no matter what the circumstance may be. And neither should you. 

Like many things, it’s easy to turn sadness into a game of one-upping. Saying things like “at least you don’t have to deal with this” or “this is even harder for me because blah blah blah” may be your way of putting a positive spin on someone else’s pain, but it does nothing but turn it into a competition. 

It’s unfair to discount others’ feelings just because you feel as though your situation is worse. While a senior missing prom and graduation is heart-breaking, a freshman missing their first spring sport is equally as sad. There’s no “checklist” to who or why someone can feel emotion. 

For days in quarantine, I sat wondering, “Why am I so sad about this? Why can’t I just let it go and enjoy this time to slow down?”

I was constantly telling myself, “It could be so much worse. Just be grateful.”

Of course things could always be worse. An optimistic view on life is key to staying positive in dark times, and I’m all for it, but just because things could have been worse doesn’t mean that they aren’t still bad.

Anne Frank once wrote, “Feelings can’t be ignored, no matter how unjust or ungrateful they seem.” Feeling your feelings doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful, it means you’re human. All of the frustration, sadness, anger and negativity will always be valid — regardless of what anyone else says. 

Eventually, I stopped the sulking and wishing things were different, and finally accepted my new reality. There would be no more school, no more seeing friends and no more leaving my little bubble. I was going to be sad, and that was okay. 

While gratitude is necessary — now more than ever — to keep yourself grounded and positive, pain is still pain, no matter the circumstances.