There is no greater pain

It’s not a contest

May 22, 2025

I’ve never told anyone this, but I don’t think pain can—should ever—be compared.

There is no greater sorrow than the loss of one’s child. Nothing compares to the pain of losing a parent. I lost my partner suddenly and tragically, I will never feel such pain again.

I appreciate the sentiment behind these statements, and my heart goes out to all who grieve. But I find these comparisons unhelpful at best, toxic at worst.

Pain shouldn’t be a contest. For when it is, everyone loses.

Pain is pain

For three and a half years I have grieved the imminent loss of my father—a cheerful and active man reduced by cancer to a horizontal bag of bones.

This phantom grief has been unlike any pain I’ve experienced, one I know ranks high on society’s hierarchy of pains—below the death of a child, the actual loss of a parent, yet still several rungs above a stubbed toe.

At first, I feared my pain would make me less empathetic to the plight of others—that their pain would pale in comparison, evoke condescension in place of sympathy. But this hasn’t happened. In fact, I’ve had the opposite reaction.

The longer I’ve felt my pain, the more empathy I feel for others’, the more I come to believe that pain is pain, no matter the cause.

Pain manifests in different ways. It can numb, overwhelm, infuriate, make you cry at unexpected moments—like when you’re having gelato with your partner and see Japanese manga figurines on display and are reminded of that one show you left dad to finish watching alone back when time with him was abundant and therefore unwanted, just because you’d decided you were too grown up for anime, falsely believing there will be a next time.

But here’s the thing: no matter how pain reveals itself to you, it is always true. In the moment—seconds, minutes, years, decades—you are in pain, your suffering is real and immediate and inescapable.

The pain of losing a job is no less true than the pain of losing a parent, a partner, a friend. A five-year-old’s pain from not being allowed the puppy he desperately craves is no less valid than the pain of his mother who lost her loving husband to a horrific car accident.

Your pain is as real to you as mine is to me, as everyone else’s is to them. Why should it ever matter what caused it?

The contest we all lose

No one wins when they go down the path of “my pain is greater than yours.”

Not only does it encourage you to magnify the pain in your mind—I have a big pain—but also it robs you of empathy—yours is a small pain, undeserving of my sympathy and support.

I find this comparison unhelpful, and I’d go so far as to say toxic. It pits one pain against another when we should instead be united in our suffering.

What good can come of thinking, believing, saying: What I’m going through is far worse than anything you’ve ever suffered. You don’t understand, can’t understand, won’t understand until that wretched day when it happens to you too.

What will this achieve, other than alienating the concerned party from your grandiose pain, making them feel small and unappreciated?

Wouldn’t it be better to think, believe, say: You may not know what exactly I’m going through, but you have felt pain and know how it hurts. Thank you for your concern. Can I have a hug?

I think this a far better way to approach pain. Don’t you?

What do you think?

What pain have you felt?

And how did you cope? Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you want, share this post with someone who has felt pain so I can send them a virtual *hug*.