The Question We Ask: “Why Me?”

Photo by Krists Luhaers on Unsplash

In my sixty-plus years on this blue-green planet, I’ve asked this question a zillion times—especially during my teenage and young adult years when my father’s drinking problem was a source of terrible pain with no solution is sight.

My guess is, you’ve asked this question too

I’ve stopped asking this question because I now have a more evolved perspective of life and life’s struggles.

I know that a) there’s never a good answer to this question b) it’s guaranteed to make me feel worse c) every time I ask this question, I feel alone—as if I’ve been singled out to suffer. More than anything, there are millions of people the world over who have unbelievable problems my brain can’t even begin to comprehend.

Like…

• living in a war zone
• wondering where their next meal is coming from
• working three jobs with poor health just so they can make rent
• unable to move their limbs
• no access to clean drinking water or safe shelter

I can keep this very grim list going, but I’ll stop right here.

—————————————————————————————————————————

That’s not to say we must minimize what we’re going through.

As someone who guides people who are grieving all kinds of losses, I’ve witnessed this tendency up close.

A client will say something like, “I’m grieving that my dad is aging and he’s able to do much less.” And then, almost as a reflex, they’ll follow it up with, “But my dad is still here and I should be grateful. He’s mostly healthy. So I shouldn’t be feeling this way. So many others are dealing with a parent’s death or an Alzheimer’s diagnosis. I don’t have that problem.”

I listen. I wait for them to finish.

Then, I say: “You’re allowed to feel the full range of emotions that are coming up because your dad isn’t able to drive anymore, he struggles to remember things, he misses your mom who died two years ago…You have permission to feel it ALL. The size of your grief is yours to own. No matter its size relative to someone else’s loss or grief.”

———————————————————————————————————————-

Why Me, however, is a whole other problem.

Why Me is a dead end. Why Me is the doorway to a black, bottomless abyss. It never leads to anywhere you’d choose to go.

Also, have you stopped to consider how we never ask Why Me when good things happen to us!

When I look back at my own life, I never stopped to ask Why Me when…

1. A Hay House contract dropped into my lap and they published two of my books
2. My husband and I traveled in Europe for 3 years while we lived in Germany
3. A perfectly aligned client finding me in the most magical way

Truth is, life gives us plenty of the good Why Me opportunities as much as the I-didn’t-ask-for-this Why Me’s. Sure, some of us have an imbalance of good vs bad. I don’t know why.

So, I’ve stopped asking: Why Me? I find it more useful to ask: How can I show up with grace when I’m dealing with a challenging situation?

3 things help me in this regard. Allow me to unpack them, one by one.

1. Prayer. In my youth, I used to engage in what I call “fire engine prayers.” When a difficult situation arose, I’d call for the fire engine (we call it a fire engine in India; I had to learn the term ‘fire truck’ when we moved to the States). Fire? Call the fire engine. That was my prayer.

   Today I pray very differently. Prayer is my connection and conversation with the Divine. Prayer is how I cast my burdens upon the Divine, ask for the way to be shown, seek the courage to show up as my Wise Self to forgive, to let go, to trust. It’s a really peaceful way to pray because I “offer” everything about the situation to God—and simply ask to meet the outcome with grace, whatever it is.

2. Understanding karma. I was born into and raised in a traditional Hindu family. It’s been a journey and a ride through now-I-believe-this-now-I-don’t. At the time of this writing, though, I feel pretty solid in my knowing about karma.

   You know how when catastrophe strikes we have a way of saying, “I’ve lived a good life. I’m compassionate and care about helping people. I try not to cause anyone harm. I give to charity. Why is this happening to me now?” As my guru would say, this question is inherently flawed. Because the expectation is that our good behavior must be rewarded by good fortune. When that doesn’t happen, we’re confused, angry, hurt.

   The doctrine of karma reminds us that we have accrued karma over several lifetimes. Good karma, and bad. The consequences of our actions, whether in this lifetime or past lifetimes is what we experience as good fortune and bad luck. There’s really no way to know where that karma originated from. Accepting that a human life does involve some degree of suffering (the degree determined by past karma I don’t even remember) keeps me tethered to the reality that I’m not alone in my suffering; that some people suffer more than others; that I can be a source of solace on their journey.

   3. My connection with the Divine. My relationship with the Divine has definitely traveled a rocky path. Every religious tradition has its own version of The Wrathful God. I too was raised to believe that I’d invite punishment if I strayed from the straight and narrow path. Tell that to a born rebel and what you get is: I want out! I want no part of that god.

   It took a lot of growing up, studying, self-reflecting, and “knowing” that got me to where I stand today. And that’s the only way anyone gets to claim a relationship with that divine force. No one can tell you what that relationship “should” look like. This is why I call it a personal relationship forged from own deep inner knowing.

   The God I know and feel connected to today is infinitely loving, compassionate, and forgiving (Please don’t ask me why what’s happening in Gaza is). Theology, spirituality, and the mystery of the cosmos is way more nuanced and layered than I will ever comprehend so I don’t pretend to have all the answers.

   Knowing God in this way keeps me firmly anchored to the truth that I am lovable and loved. I feel held, no matter what. As hard as it is to navigate this earthly life some days, I trust it. I don’t have to understand it.

   Tell me, what’s your story. Do you struggle to find a connection with the God of your understanding? Does your faith live in a compartment that feels separate from the rest of your life? How can you integrate it so that you find your inner sanctuary and feel more peace?

   If these are questions you’ve been grappling with, come sit in session with me.