There are lots of experiences that could fall under this heading, and I think most of them are hard experiences.
There’s nothing quite like suffering and difficulty to refine and grow a person, you know?
Some of those experiences are too personal to blog about, but I’ll pick two that are appropriate for public consumption!
One
My hard pregnancies have given me lots of compassion for other women in difficult pregnancies and for people experiencing prolonged illnesses. Those pregnancies also strengthened my hang-in-there-when-you-think-you-might-die muscles.
And I learned again and again that you have to take things one day at a time when you are suffering.
Those pregnancies also inspire me to help other sick, pregnant moms (like my cousin, who is currently pregnant.) I just don’t think I’d have as much compassion or understanding if I hadn’t gone through it myself.
There’s nothing like personal experience to help you understand something!
Two
The years that Mr. FG and I spent living on a really tiny income were un-fun in a lot of ways, but with the benefit of hindsight, I can see how those years grew me.
The main way: I have a lot of compassion and understanding for people who are struggling because of an income issue, not a spending issue.
Financial gurus sometimes feel a little out of touch because their message can sound like, “Just stop spending so much! Then you can sock oodles of money away.”
But when you are extremely frugal and still are just scraping by, that advice is at best, not-useful, and at worst, super discouraging.
So, I think my experience has helped me to be in a good place to write about frugal living. I’ve been in the trenches and I know what it’s like.
I learned so many useful skills during those years, out of necessity, and since I blog about frugal living, those skills are serving lots of other people now.
I have suffered from acne since puberty (my skin looks ok now, but I still need medication and treatment and I am in my late thirties…). I know how hurtful insensitive comments, staring and even well-meaning comments (have you tried xyz – *sigh*) can be.
Due to that (hard) experience, I have a lot of compassion for people with medical issues, in particular those that are visible to everybody. I always try to help people (without giving unsolicited advice…). And I don’t take my health for granted!
Oh my goodness, yes, I can imagine how tiring the unsolicited advice can be.
Loved this post, and undoubtedly, my infertility has made me a more compassionate, kinder, more understanding person. I now have twins but those 4 years have definitely shaped my life.
Oh yes. A painful personal experience like that really helps you understand someone else’s pain!
I hear you on the out of touch financial advice. I remember in 2008 seeing so many “just stop paying for daycare and get an au pair” or “Stop drinking Starbucks and it will make you rich.”
As for me, I think growing up with a less than affluent family to say the least taught me some things. One example I can think of is that I learned to cook because I didn’t want to eat at midnight or eat “fast” stuff that my parents would prepare after getting home from their second jobs.
As for being a better person, I vacillate between whether or not I’m better because of it but I spent most of my childhood without any friends so I’ve learned to be content with being alone in some circumstances and finding ways to just deal with things myself and be content with enjoying things by myself. Too many people feel weird eating alone or watching a movie alone but to me it’s my standard MO.
College. College made me a different AND better person.
In the last state we lived in, my closest friends was married to someone who was wheelchair-bound. We did stuff together all the time, so I learned a lot about accessibility! But now that I live far from them, I have a soft spot for children in wheelchairs. I know that special needs kids can often get overlooked, so if I see a child in a wheelchair I try to find my way over to them and talk with them. I’m thankful for God putting this on my heart because one of my friends here has 2 special needs daughters (one of the sweet little girls passed away a year ago). But I know that regardless of her inability to really respond to me, it’s important that I greet her every time I see her. She often gets small foot rubs. 🙂 She matters and is loved.
In general, having children. And particularly having what many people consider “a lot” of children. It has absolutely made me a less selfish person in so many ways, and forced me to become more adaptable than I am naturally inclined to be.
Oh, that is the truth! It was so easy to think, before parenthood, that I was not a selfish person. And then I had kids and MY WORD, their existence really shined a light on the selfishness of my heart.
Two things stand out: living through a harrowing catastrophic illness. When putting one foot in front of the other is barely possible, you learn a lot! I think I am a much kinder person and much better about finding a practical way to provide some small help to an ill person. I used to say, “Call me if you need anything.” Now I know sometimes you don’t have the energy to ask for help, or feel humiliated to need help. So, I ask specifically—can my husband or I give the person a ride to an appointment, buy some groceries, clean the bathroom, fight the insurance company…
The second thing is being raised by refugees. I saw first hand how people acted to my parents, who spoke with heavy Russian accents. They were often treated as if they were stupid, people mocked or got impatient trying to understand the sometimes heavy accents (which got worse when they were upset), people make fun of the foods we ate because they were so different (I do think this has changed from when I was a kid. Americans are much more cosmopolitan about their food habits these days). The other thing I learned from my parents was an appreciation for the opportunities in this country, and gratitude for our democracy and the peaceful transition of power (severely strained this week, I have to say).
I love both of these, not for your suffering, but for the results.
I learned a lot from my first marriage. It only lasted 5 years, but it taught me to stand up for myself and what to look for in a spouse. No details, but that experience made me a better wife.
Not sure if it’s made me better, but certainly more aware. Losing an adult child to an asthma attack. My heart aches for people who’ve lost family members, but especially the moms involved in the loss. Nothing quite like it. We expect to bury parents , but not our own children. Every funeral attended makes me more aware of in-laws or cousins, friends, siblings, grandparents, spouses, nieces/nephews, etc. who also suffer. I couldn’t see the loss others in my circle suffered when our son died, so great was my pain. But I really see it now. It certainly leads me to want to offer help or a meal to those in that situation who maybe can’t think straight. Good prompt, Kristin.
I admire your empathy, Barb F.
My heart goes out to you, Barb. We lost my brother on July 4, 1983 to an asthma attack. He was 14. It really fractured our family but my mom, in particular, was never the same again. I admire that you are able to see the pain of others when yours has been so great.
I work with special needs children. Sometimes the children with autism take so kick out of me it’s difficult to get through a 30 minute session. I have empathy for parents of special needs kiddos. That’s 24/7. I have 5 kids and a couple had ongoing medical challenges but nothing compared to test I see in my work. It’s definitely given me good perspective.
My mom spent a lot of my childhood in and out of the hospital, and had a huge scar slashing her torso, about 24 inches long and an inch or more wide in places, due to repeated surgeries there, plus she had several other, smaller scars. It made me 1) unafraid of hospitals and 2) unaffected by scars.
Losing my parents when I was 42. I found out that even older grown ups can be devastated at losing parents. A mature grown up can still feel like an orphan when parents die. I developed a lot more empathy for older adults who lose a parent.