There are moments in life that simply hurt.
Someone leaves.
A relationship changes.
We lose something we love.
Someone disappoints us.
Our body changes.
A plan we were counting on falls apart.
We find ourselves in a season of life we never expected to be in.
Pain is part of being human.
But then something else often happens.
The mind begins arguing with what has already happened.
This shouldn’t be happening.
They shouldn’t have done that.
I shouldn’t still feel this way.
My life should be further along by now.
I need this feeling to go away.
And suddenly, we’re not only experiencing the pain of the moment.
We’re also experiencing the struggle against the moment.
This distinction has become increasingly important in my own mindfulness practice and in the work I do with others.
Because sometimes we can’t immediately change what is happening.
But we can begin to notice the ways we are fighting against the reality that is already here.
And sometimes, that fight is where a great deal of our suffering lives.
What Does Buddhism Mean by Suffering?
One of the central teachings in Buddhism is the concept of dukkha.
Dukkha is sometimes translated simply as “suffering,” which can make the teaching sound rather bleak—as though Buddhism is saying that life is miserable.
But the teaching is much more nuanced than that.
Dukkha can also point toward the dissatisfaction, stress, unease, and struggle that arise because life is constantly changing—and because we naturally want certain experiences to stay and others to disappear.
We want pleasure to remain.
We want pain to end.
We want people to behave differently.
We want certainty about what will happen.
We want to hold onto what we love.
We want to avoid what frightens us.
None of this makes us bad or spiritually unevolved.
It makes us human.
But when our peace depends upon life unfolding exactly the way we want it to, we inevitably suffer.
Because life does not stay still.
People change.
Bodies change.
Relationships change.
Circumstances change.
Feelings change.
Even the experiences we desperately want to hold onto eventually change.
And so part of the practice becomes learning how to live in a changing world without requiring everything to remain the way we want it to be in order for us to be okay.
Pain and Suffering Are Not Always the Same Thing
There is an important distinction here.
Acceptance does not mean that painful things should not hurt.
Heartbreak hurts.
Grief hurts.
Rejection hurts.
Loneliness hurts.
Illness hurts.
Being betrayed or disappointed by someone can hurt deeply.
Mindfulness is not about pretending these experiences don’t affect us.
It is not about becoming so detached that nothing touches us.
And it certainly isn’t about telling someone who is hurting that their pain exists only because they’re “resisting reality.”
Sometimes life is painful.
But alongside that pain, we often add another layer.
There is the heartbreak.
And then:
I shouldn’t be this upset.
There is the loss.
And then:
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
There is uncertainty.
And then:
I need to know what happens next.
There is disappointment.
And then:
They need to understand what they did to me before I can move on.
There is sadness.
And then:
I need to stop feeling this way.
Now we are experiencing not only what happened, but also our struggle with what happened.
That struggle is worth becoming curious about.
The Mind Loves to Argue With Reality
Most of us do this without realizing it.
Something happens, and almost immediately the mind begins constructing an alternative version of reality.
They should have called.
She shouldn’t have said that.
He should understand me.
I should have known better.
My childhood should have been different.
My relationship should have worked out.
I shouldn’t be starting over at this age.
Sometimes these thoughts are completely understandable.
Maybe someone truly did behave badly.
Maybe something genuinely wasn’t fair.
Maybe we deserved something different.
But there is a difficult truth hidden inside some of these moments:
Reality does not change simply because we believe it should have been different.
And this is where mindfulness can become incredibly powerful.
Not because it teaches us to approve of what happened.
But because it helps us notice when we are spending enormous amounts of energy fighting something that has already occurred.
There Is What Happened, How It Feels, and What We Add to It
This is one of the simplest ways I think about suffering.
There is:
What happened.
Then there is:
How it feels.
And then there is:
Everything we add to it.
Imagine someone you care about doesn’t respond to your message.
What happened?
They haven’t responded.
What do you feel?
Maybe tightness in your chest.
Anxiety.
Sadness.
Anger.
Uncertainty.
And then the mind begins adding:
They’re ignoring me.
I did something wrong.
They don’t care about me.
This always happens.
I’m going to get hurt again.
Within minutes, one unanswered message can become an entire story about our worth, the relationship, and what is going to happen next.
The story may ultimately contain some truth.
Or it may not.
But mindfulness invites us to notice the difference between what we actually know and what the mind is adding because it is uncomfortable not knowing.
That small distinction can create a surprising amount of space.
Why Do We Resist What We Feel?
We don’t only resist circumstances.
We also resist our own internal experience.
We feel anxious and immediately want the anxiety gone.
We feel sadness and think we should be over it.
We feel anger and judge ourselves for being angry.
We feel afraid and tell ourselves we shouldn’t be afraid.
So now there are two experiences happening at once.
There is the original emotion.
And there is our reaction to having the emotion.
I don’t want this.
I shouldn’t feel this.
Make it stop.
Sometimes our struggle with an emotion can become more exhausting than the emotion itself.
This doesn’t mean we should enjoy anxiety, grief, anger, or fear.
It means we can experiment with meeting what is already here before immediately trying to make it disappear.
Instead of:
How do I get rid of this?
We might ask:
Can I be with this for a moment?
That is a very different relationship with ourselves.
Acceptance Is Not the Same as Approval
This is one of the most important distinctions in this teaching.
Acceptance can easily be misunderstood.
Accepting reality does not mean:
Staying in a harmful relationship.
Allowing someone to mistreat you.
Ignoring injustice.
Giving up.
Pretending something doesn’t hurt.
Never setting a boundary.
Or deciding that nothing needs to change.
Acceptance simply begins with acknowledging:
This is what is happening right now.
If someone has hurt you, accepting reality might mean acknowledging that they hurt you rather than continuing to wait for them to become the person you needed them to be.
If a relationship has ended, acceptance may mean allowing yourself to recognize that it is over even while part of you desperately wishes it weren’t.
If you are unhappy with your life, acceptance doesn’t mean deciding to remain unhappy.
It means being willing to see clearly where you actually are.
Because we can only respond to reality from the place where reality actually exists.
Sometimes acceptance is precisely what allows change to begin.
The Body Often Reveals Our Resistance
Resistance isn’t only a thought.
We can often feel it.
The jaw tightens.
The shoulders lift.
The stomach contracts.
The chest becomes guarded.
The breath becomes shallow.
We brace.
We pull away.
We hold on.
Sometimes if we slow down enough, we can notice the body doing exactly what the mind is doing:
No. Not this.
This is where mindfulness gives us another possibility.
Not forcing the body to relax.
Not telling ourselves everything is okay.
Simply noticing:
Something in me is fighting this moment.
And becoming curious.
What am I wishing were different right now?
What am I afraid will happen if I allow this to be true?
What am I holding onto?
What am I trying not to feel?
These aren’t questions we ask to interrogate ourselves.
They’re invitations to listen.
A Simple Practice for Meeting What Is
The next time you notice yourself struggling with something you cannot immediately change, pause.
Feel the support underneath your body.
Notice your feet.
Take a breath without trying to change it.
Then ask yourself:
What am I actually experiencing right now?
Try to separate the direct experience from the story.
Maybe the direct experience is sadness.
Tightness.
Fear.
Heat.
Uncertainty.
Then ask:
What am I adding to this?
Maybe:
This shouldn’t be happening.
I need them to change.
I need to know.
I should be over this.
This feeling has to go away.
And then:
What am I wishing were different?
Notice what happens in your body as you acknowledge the answer.
Finally, see if you can gently ask:
Can I allow this moment to be as it is—even for one breath?
Not forever.
Not tomorrow.
Not because you approve of it.
Just this breath.
And then another, if it feels possible.
Sometimes acceptance happens in very small increments.
What If I Really Do Need Something to Change?
Then change may be exactly what is needed.
Mindfulness isn’t passive.
Sometimes seeing reality clearly reveals:
I need to have the conversation.
I need to leave.
I need to say no.
I need help.
I need to grieve.
I need to make a different choice.
I need to stop waiting for someone else to change.
Acceptance doesn’t remove action.
It can make action clearer.
Because instead of responding only from our fight with reality, we begin responding from an understanding of what is actually happening.
There is a difference between:
I can’t tolerate this feeling, so I have to do something immediately.
and:
This is difficult. I’m willing to feel what is here. And I can still choose what I need to do next.
That space matters.
We Also Suffer by Holding Onto What We Love
Resistance is only one side of dukkha.
The other is clinging.
We don’t just push away what we dislike.
We also hold tightly to what we love.
A relationship.
An identity.
A stage of life.
Our youth.
Our children being young.
A version of ourselves.
A belief about how our future is supposed to look.
There is nothing wrong with loving any of these things.
The difficulty comes when love quietly becomes:
This cannot change.
But everything changes.
Mindfulness doesn’t ask us to love less.
If anything, it asks us to be more fully here for what we love precisely because it won’t remain exactly this way forever.
We can hold something deeply without pretending we can hold it permanently.
That is a very different kind of love.
We Don’t Have to Win the Argument With Life
There will always be moments we wish were different.
There will always be people we wish had made another choice.
There will be things about our past we would change if we could.
There will be emotions we would rather not feel.
The practice isn’t eliminating those wishes.
It’s noticing when we have become trapped in an argument with a moment that has already arrived.
And perhaps asking:
What would happen if, for just this moment, I stopped fighting the fact that this is here?
Maybe nothing dramatic happens.
Maybe your heart still hurts.
Maybe you still don’t know what comes next.
Maybe the situation still needs to change.
But perhaps there is a little less struggle around it.
A little more room to breathe.
A little more capacity to listen.
And from there, perhaps we can meet ourselves and our lives with a little more clarity and compassion.
Sometimes peace doesn’t come from finally getting life to cooperate with us.
Sometimes it begins when we stop fighting the moment we’re already in.