Why do I suffer?

Dear fellow therapist,

Some days in this work feel heavier than others.

Not because the client is in pain—but because they’ve attached meaning to that pain, and you know if you rush to take it away, they’ll lose the very thing holding them up.

I’ve been sitting with a strange truth lately:

Suffering gives meaning to life.

Not always—but often enough to pause and rethink our interventions.

We’re wired to solve. But if we erase the problem without replacing its purpose, what then?

One of my old students walked into my office a few weeks back. She was visiting—something about old students turning up always touches something quiet in me.

She said, “Ma’am, my mom is constantly stressed. My younger brother has autism, and she’s always worrying. I want to help her—but how?”

I asked gently, “What else does your mother do? Apart from taking care of him and the home?”

“She’s just a homemaker,” she replied.

And I found myself wondering aloud:

If we take away the stress, what’s left for her to feel she’s contributing?

What else brings meaning to her otherwise invisible day?

This is where I paused. Because this isn’t just her story.

It’s ghar ghar ki kahani.

Especially for Indian women—here or abroad.

Tere bigaer guzara nahi, aur tujhe izzat dena gawara nahi.

The house doesn’t run without her, but her existence is so often taken for granted.

She doesn’t complain to annoy you.

She complains because that’s how she affirms she exists.

And so, dear therapist, here’s my takeaway:

Don’t fix it yet.

Don’t jump to remove the suffering.

Not unless you can offer something else that gives her meaning.

Stress isn’t always the enemy.

Sometimes, it’s the only thread holding someone’s identity in place.

We often overlook how meaning clings to the mundane.

And how stress becomes the evidence that “I matter. I’m doing something. I’m holding this together.”

And guess what? The research backs this.

Victor Frankl wrote,

“In some way, suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning.”

Frankl’s logotherapy is based on this idea—that humans can endure almost anything if they find meaning in it.

For many homemakers, especially women raised in patriarchal cultures, caregiving becomes the only socially acceptable identity. Stress, then, is proof that they’re useful.

Studies in family psychology (Nomaguchi & Milkie, 2003) found that women report high parental stress but also high meaning from caregiving, especially when it’s their primary role.

Carol Gilligan and Indian feminist thinkers have written at length about how women are conditioned to derive their self-worth from self-sacrifice.

So when you say, “Don’t stress,” what they hear is,

“You’re not needed.”

Which is why I say—don’t take away the stress.

Take away the form of meaning that turns into pressure, guilt, and martyrdom.

Redefine contribution.

Redefine worth.

Don’t just ask her to stop complaining—help her rewrite what her voice gets to sound like.

You know this already. I’m just writing it to remind myself.

Sometimes, the best therapy begins not by relieving pain, but by understanding why the pain is there.

Why it became the only language someone was allowed to speak.

Until then,

Let her hold onto it a little longer.

But sit beside her.

And remind her—there are other ways to be meaningful.

Other ways to matter.

We’ll get there. Slowly. Kindly. Together.

Warmly,

Parita

PS:

If you’re a woman who feels like stress is your only identity—like the only way you matter is when you’re sacrificing something—

It may be time to reclaim your story.

Online -Book a session at www.sevee.care.

Personal visit - 919712777330

Let’s help you find meaning without burning out.