I don’t want the people I like to be tormented or troubled because of me; they can’t resolve my problems just because I tell them, and it’s my own business anyway, so it’s fine with just me enduring it. I wish you would just think I’m doing well. from the Kdrama, Do You Love Brahms?
Every one of us have problems. Small ones. Large ones. Some temporary. Some lasting an interminable length of time. Most of us share our problems with a trusted friend or two, looking for encouragement, support, answers.
But sometimes we don’t.
“It’s my business anyway, so it’s fine with just me enduring it,” the lead male character, Park Joon-Young, says to his mentor in the Kdrama Do You Like Brahms? Joon-Young is a talented classical pianist in his mid-twenties who’s just returned from a successful overseas concert tour but struggling to find his way moving forward.
Like Park Joon-Young, we don’t want others to be “tormented or troubled because of me; they can’t resolve my problems just because I have them.” We want them to “just think I’m doing well.”
It’s difficult to admit we are struggling. It’s a matter of pride. We’re supposed to be strong. Self-sufficient. We roll our eyes at “needy” people. People who always seem to be seeking affirmation. Almost begging for compliments. Or those who “can’t seem to get their act together.”
The female lead in this drama, Chae Song-A, a business school graduate, is trying to follow her dream of becoming a professional violinist. She’s in her last year of music school and always in the last seat in her section of the school orchestra. Her family isn’t supportive, thinking she’s wasting her time. She becomes friends with Joon-Young when their paths cross.
At one point he says to her, “I sometimes think ‘What did I do so wrong in my past life that I’m living like this?’” Astonished and confused, she replies, “But why do you, who achieved my dream with that talent, look so unhappy?”
Like Song-A, we look with envy at others who appear to have the success we desire. Or a life without problems. They’s got a nice house. Good-paying job. Great marriage. Well-behaved kids. They take the vacations we dream of.
Yet, we can’t see inside their head or heart or soul. We don’t know what hidden struggles they have. And neither can our friends see inside our head or heart or soul.
We feel we just have to endure whatever we are struggling with. Because, after all, perhaps it’s our fault. Maybe not quite like doing something wrong in our past life, but maybe in our past. Something we did or did not do.
We didn’t study hard enough or never tried out for the tennis team. We just went into the career field our parents expected us to, or we did what we wanted and it ended up being the wrong choice. We married the wrong person or never got over our first love. We haven’t been the devoted father, daughter, spouse, grandparent we should have been, or perhaps we gave our children everything we never had and now they’re always demanding more. We were too reckless in our youth or not wild enough. We didn’t take care of our health, spent too much time parked in front of the television, or drank, smoked, or ate too much.
So, we feel, because of our choices, whatever they were, we have ended up here, in the midst of whatever struggle, challenge, problem or heartache we’re currently struggling with. So, on top of exhaustion, confusion, and a sense of helplessness, we pile on guilt. And we suffer alone.
When Joon-Young admits his reluctance to share his struggles with Song-A, his mentor replies, “Don’t always try to show each other the pretty side of things; show your pain, your flaws, and your less attractive sides. I wish you would become a relationship where you can rely on and comfort each other like that.”
When Joon-Young does tell Song-A he is not doing well, though she is at first shocked, her heart hurts for him. She becomes an empathetic listener. She doesn’t judge or try to solve his problem. She offers him a place to think out loud. She offers him a “relationship where you can… comfort each other…”
But we can’t have a relationship like that with our friends, family, spouse, children, or coworkers, if we don’t first have the courage to say, “Well, to tell the truth, I’m struggling a bit.” It’s not an easy thing to do, but it can open the door to unexpected comfort.
Question: Is there someone you trust enough to admit you are struggling with something in your life? And will you do it?
