Who Has It Worse?
- Lauren Shaw, Ph.D.
- Mar 21, 2017
- 3 min read
My husband and I switch back and forth between who is at home with the kids and who goes to work. One day a week the kids go to my parent’s house, two days a week he is home, and two days a week I am home. We’ve had lots of different arrangements, juggling the ever-shifting needs of our family and our careers. For now, this is working.
No matter which day it is, my life looks very different than his. I am a psychologist, he is a professional handyman, and we are both parents to three young kids. My job is emotionally intense; his job is physically intense. And staying home with small children is an experience all in its own.
It can be easy for us to get to the end of our days and get into a little competition about whose day was harder or longer or more difficult.
He can talk about being outside trying to fix a fence in freezing cold weather, how awkward it is to paint ceilings, and stress about matching the costs of a job to the bid. On those days, I can moan about how many times I scrubbed pee out of the carpet while potty training our toddler. Other days, I can talk about the stress of my job, the intensity of emotions I sat with, and how drained I feel. He can talk about breaking up sibling disputes, constant requests for snacks, and tantrums.
Each situation presents its own challenges, and we are both tired at the end of the day. What starts as a loving check-in can easily degrade into a “who had it worse” or “who deserves a break more.” It’s not pretty, and we’ve done a lot of good and hard work on validating the joy and pain each other experiences in an average day.
This dynamic, the competition to see who had it worse, plays out in lots of places. Stay at home mom versus working mom. One career choice versus another. One phase or season of life versus another. Two kids versus three kids versus seven kids. Living close to family versus living far away from family.
It’s so easy to listen to someone else talk about their struggles and think that we have it worse or that they don’t even know what real challenges are.
But here’s the deal: empathy is not a zero-sum game. Empathy is not a limited resource. Neither is compassion. And, unfortunately, neither is pain and struggle.
My challenges do not invalidate or threaten yours in any way, shape, or form. Extending compassion and empathy to you does not mean there is less left for me. Our struggles and difficulties are not in competition with each other.
It is not about who has it worse. We all have challenges and we all have pain.
It is about extending kindness and compassion to each other in the midst of it all.
It’s easy to look at what others struggle with and judge the struggle. To imagine that if we were in their position it would be easier for us, or that we would be grateful for the things they complain about. But that is simply something we cannot know. We do not ever know the full and complete picture of someone’s life; we miss key details, forces that shaped their lives and ways of engaging the world, factors that contribute to their pain. Acknowledging that we cannot fully understand and choosing not to sit in judgement about someone else’s struggle frees us to extend kindness, empathy, and compassion.
Sometimes we use this same rational to treat ourselves with harshness. I can remember feeling exhausted and weary after my first child was born, but feeling that I had no right to share those feelings with friends who had multiple children. Looking back, I can see how silly that was. Those were the same women who knew exactly how overwhelming the newborn days with your first child can be. I believe that if I had been more compassionate with myself, and allowed myself to share the struggle with my friends, I could have received support that I missed out on.
Let’s try and hold on to these truths:
Empathy, compassion, pain, and struggle are not limited resources.
It’s not about who has it worse. It is about extending kindness and compassion to each other in the midst of it all.
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