There comes a point where suffering isn’t just something you go through—it becomes you. Where life strips away everything you thought you were, everything you thought you had, and leaves you standing in the wreckage, wondering if you were ever real to begin with.
And what then?
What do you do when you aren’t just lost, but erased? When every plan, every effort, every ounce of strength you ever had was poured into things that are gone? When the very idea of “starting over” feels like a cruel joke because there is nothing left?
I know, because I’m there.
Not just because of life, or my experiences, or all I’ve given and lost. Not just because of the weight of years spent carrying people who are no longer here, or because of the exhaustion of surviving when everything that once held me up is gone. But because of my spiritual journey—because of the transformation I didn’t ask for but endured anyway.
I find myself at Death—that pivotal moment where the change has already happened, the past has burned, and now here I stand, looking at a world that no longer recognizes me. That no longer wants people like me in it. That punishes those of us who have suffered through what could almost literally be described as the trials of Job.
And while I can’t go into detail here, trust me—I am not exaggerating.
If you’ve been through it too, if you’ve lost everything, if life has taken and taken and taken—you know what I mean.
The world doesn’t welcome people like us. It doesn’t approve of us. It doesn’t want those of us who have seen the truth, who have been ripped apart and forced to transform, to exist in it. And if we dare to speak up? If we dare to say where we’ve been, what we’ve seen, what we know—the world will punish us for it.
Because we don’t fit. We don’t belong in this version of reality.
And yet, we’re still here.
I, for one, won’t apologize for that. And I will not be ashamed of it.
Religions, philosophies, spiritual traditions—they’ve all tried to answer the question of suffering. And if we strip away the dogma, strip away the feel-good fluff, they actually all say the same thing:
1. The Bible (Christianity & Judaism): Suffering is a Test, a Refiner’s Fire
Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him. (Job 13:15)
For you, O God, have tested us; you have refined us as silver is refined. (Psalm 66:10)
We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. (Romans 5:3-4)
What it means: Suffering isn’t a punishment; it’s a test. It’s a fire that burns away everything that isn’t real. The question isn’t why you suffer—it’s who you become because of it.
2. The Qur’an (Islam): Suffering is a Path to Strength and Submission
Indeed, with hardship comes ease. (Qur’an 94:6)
And We will surely test you with something of fear and hunger and a loss of wealth and lives and fruits, but give good tidings to the patient. (Qur’an 2:155)
Do not despair of the mercy of Allah. (Qur’an 39:53)
What it means: Hardship is guaranteed. But it is never without purpose, and it is never the end. Patience (sabr) is the highest virtue—not just enduring suffering, but trusting that God sees what you cannot.
3. The Bhagavad Gita (Hinduism): Suffering Comes from Attachment
You have the right to perform your duty, but never to the fruits of your work. (2.47)
The wise grieve neither for the living nor for the dead. (2.11)
A person who is not disturbed by happiness and distress and is steady in both is certainly eligible for liberation. (2.15)
What it means: Suffering isn’t about what happens to you—it’s about attachment to what you think life should be. The path forward? Let go of control. Act because it is right, not because it will bring reward.
4. The Dhammapada (Buddhism): Suffering is the First Step to Enlightenment
The root of suffering is attachment. (The Buddha)
Pain is certain, suffering is optional. (Traditional Buddhist saying)
By oneself is evil done; by oneself is one defiled. By oneself is evil left undone; by oneself is one purified. (Dhammapada 165)
What it means: The first noble truth of Buddhism is that suffering (dukkha) is unavoidable. The way out isn’t to escape it, but to see it clearly—to understand that pain exists, but suffering is how we respond to it.
5. The Tao Te Ching (Taoism): Suffering Comes from Resistance
If you realize that all things change, there is nothing you will try to hold on to. (Tao Te Ching 74)
Do you have the patience to wait till your mud settles and the water is clear? (Tao Te Ching 15)
New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings. (Attributed to Lao Tzu)
What it means: The more you resist suffering, the worse it becomes. The more you try to force life to be something it’s not, the more pain you invite. The way forward? Let it flow. Stop fighting the current.
6. Stoicism (Western Philosophy): Suffering is Fuel
The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way. (Marcus Aurelius)
You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength. (Marcus Aurelius)
Difficulties show what men are. (Epictetus)
What it means: Suffering is not something to escape—it is something to use. The obstacle is the path. The question isn’t “how do I get rid of this?” but “how do I make it serve me?”
So What the Hell Does All of This Mean?
They all say the same thing.
Suffering is not meaningless—it is either a test, a tool, or a transformation.
You are not entitled to ease—but that doesn’t mean you’re abandoned.
The way forward is not fighting the suffering, but using it.
Now, let’s be clear—I’m not saying this makes it easier. None of this magically removes pain. But it does remove the lie that suffering is just some cruel, empty punishment.
Because you still have a choice.
You can let suffering break you. You can decide that because you’ve been torn down, you’ll never get up again. You can spend the rest of your days grieving what’s been lost, and no one would blame you.
Or you can make it sacred. You can take every loss, every betrayal, every moment of destruction and use it to build something new—not in spite of it, but because of it.
The Bottom Line
No, there’s no magic fix. No secret formula. No prayer, scripture, or mindset shift that will undo what’s happened.
And I know how that feels.
But if you’ve made it this far—if you’ve suffered and survived and been left standing in the ruins—then there’s a reason you’re still here. Even if you don’t know what it is yet.
Suffering doesn’t come without purpose.
You rise anyway.
Not because you feel ready. Not because you have all the answers. Not because you even want to some days.
You rise because you can.
You rise because after everything you’ve endured, everything you’ve suffered, everything you’ve survived—you owe it to yourself to see what happens next.
You rise because this world may not welcome you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t belong.
You rise because if suffering tried to destroy you and failed—then maybe, just maybe, you were meant for something greater than it ever could have imagined.
And maybe, just maybe, the fact that you’re still here means the world doesn’t get to decide who you are, or what you become.
Maybe you were, or maybe you are, broken. Maybe you were cast aside, abandoned, or forgotten—left behind when you were no longer needed. Maybe you were even left for dead.
Maybe you, like me, have simply outlived everyone who ever truly saw you, who ever truly understood you. Maybe everything you had, everything you were, wasn’t just lost, but stolen, stripped away, or burned to the ground—without mercy, without reason.
But that’s not the end. Because if you are still breathing, if you are still here, then there is still one thing left to do:
Rise anyway.
The Twin Tree Project 