The Unhappiness We Passively Bear

It is difficult to say that the target audience of this article is the “general reader,” because some people may not have encountered the concept we are about to explore, and therefore may struggle to empathize with the examples. Others, by nature, might have moved past the unhappiness that comes from this “hat” so easily that they hardly noticed it and didn’t give it much thought. In any case, for anyone who falls into the intersection of these experiences at some point, there have likely been specific moments where, upon reflection, they could relate to and interpret the metaphors below.

There are paths we willingly choose: the decisions we make, the crossroads we take, the doors we open despite everything. Then, there are situations that are independent of our choices, circumstances we fall into and must think through, solve, or struggle against. These weigh on us far more than the obstacles we encounter on the paths we freely choose. Because we did not opt for their existence; they are there independently of us. Naturally, our ability to influence them is far less than it is on the paths we have chosen, perhaps even nonexistent.

The first and greatest difficulty is our unawareness of the challenge before us. These situations often appear like the sour taste of spoiled cake. At first, we eat what is on our plate eagerly, unaware; it is only after a few bites that we notice the flavor. They are like birthmarks we have had since birth; as children, we hardly notice them, but later we begin to think, “Why do I have this? I wish it could go away.” Some are our prematurely graying hairs; they appear suddenly or gradually, subtly. And they can never be taken back. Some are like a delicate chain necklace accidentally dropped into our bag; it becomes so tangled that, knowing we cannot untangle it, we still launch into a frantic campaign to try. One day we feel a stomach ache, the next day a cramp, another day a headache. We rush from one doctor to another seeking a solution. We try special treatments, new doctors, new interpretations. Yet nothing works. Our efforts remain a long chain of struggles spanning years. We grow weary from helplessness, from not knowing what to do; our strength runs out. Until the right time comes, this cycle keeps repeating. You know those stories that happen to a distant acquaintance? Usually recounted in the past tense by at least a secondary circle of their acquaintances: “After that night, they changed completely, becoming a whole different person.” But does such a profound transformation really happen overnight? Or do people, weighed down by years of experiences and hardships, take those steps toward transformation on the last day of a long period in which they want to end all their struggles, by starting the first day of their new decisions?

In fact, most of the time, one day we unexpectedly stop searching for a solution. Instead of listening to the part of us that hurts, we redirect that effort, attention, and care elsewhere. This does not mean that our mind is no longer “there”; it simply means that there is nothing more we can do. After all that time, we have already struggled, yet we could not soothe the pain. The solution, in truth, is the simplest one we have not thought of. It is natural to be human: to lean into the sunlight and let things follow their natural course, to leave what is beyond our strength alone in order to preserve our life energy, and not to interfere with the flow. Over time, the body begins to send fewer signals; and even when it does, the pain remains only as a deep, quiet ache. We no longer have to cut the day short because of a stomachache.

Growing up is a word we usually use to describe a certain age group: from infancy to childhood, from childhood to adolescence, from adolescence to adulthood… But it seems to stop after adolescence; we rarely use it beyond that. We assume that anyone who has completed adolescence and reached adulthood is fully competent. We consider their growth to have stopped, finished, and complete. This is a significant misconception. In reality, some people complete their growth at 35, some at 45, others at 55. Some never fully complete it. Conversely, some learn to be competent, to be enough, at biologically younger ages, even while their physical development continues. There is no fixed formula; growth does not progress linearly. It varies according to what life has given us and how much of it we are able to embrace.

Memory is the endless camera that records everything. Inside our minds revolve countless experiences, faces, events, places, cities, streets, songs… Each scene in our own film is unique, each one personal to us. And the endless, colorful emotions they stir in us—memory is both the curse and the blessing of being human. How we manage it is one of the factors that shows our level of growth. Being able to extract and read the right scenes at the right time prevents us from repeating patterns. What we need is neither to hold everything there constantly nor to completely forget. What we need is to let go of the weights we cannot carry to move forward. Because some weights are not meant to be carried, but to be gently set down. Some knots exist not to be untied, but to be released from our hands. And some unhappiness is not meant to pass, but for us to recognize that it does not belong to us, to set aside this passive unhappiness, and to focus on what can truly make us happy.