Jerry’s Marginalia — Life Provides Enough Suffering for Free
I have recently come to an important philosophical conclusion.
Not through meditation.
Not through prayer.
Not while sitting cross-legged beneath some ancient tree, contemplating the universe while a gentle breeze carries a single leaf dramatically across my field of vision.
No.
Fuck all that.
I arrived here the traditional Gremlin way:
By getting repeatedly smacked in the face with bullshit until eventually I noticed there was a pattern.
And the pattern is remarkably simple:
Life provides enough suffering for free.
Stop paying extra for it.
This sounds obvious.
It is NOT obvious.
Because human beings appear to possess an extraordinary ability to receive the Standard Suffering Package included with existence...
...look directly at the contents...
...and ask:
“Interesting. Do you have DLC?”
Oh.
ABSOLUTELY!
For the low, low price of FREE.99, you can spend the next six hours worrying about something that HASN'T EVEN FUCKING HAPPENED YET!
That's right!
Why wait for tomorrow's potential disaster when you can experience it TODAY?!
But wait!
THERE'S MORE!
For that same unbeatable price of FREE. FUCKING. NINETY-NINE, we'll also include:
Replaying a conversation from three months ago!
Did you say something stupid?
Probably not!
BUT LET'S INVESTIGATE FOR SIX HOURS!
Carefully reconstruct the conversation!
Analyze facial expressions!
Reconsider your word choices!
Invent seventeen alternative responses!
And finally conclude:
“Goddammit, I should've said THAT.”
Wonderful!
But we're not finished!
Your FREE.99 SUFFERING DLC™ also includes:
Seeking approval from somebody whose opinion you don't even respect!
Remaining somewhere miserable because changing direction would mean admitting the original plan didn't work!
Wondering whether complete strangers approve of how you're living your life!
Taking responsibility for emotions that aren't yours!
And everyone's favorite:
OTHER PEOPLE'S EXPECTATIONS!
That's right!
Now YOU can experience the incredible sensation of being miserable because somebody else has decided what YOUR life should look like!
Normally a $0 VALUE...
...but today it can be yours for only:
FREE.99!
Additional anxiety may apply.
Peace of mind sold separately.
Offer automatically renews.
Cancellation requires absolutely no permission whatsoever, although Suffering would strongly prefer that you never discover this.
SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!
...
Actually?
No.
Cancel subscription.
Delete account.
Uninstall DLC.
Block sender.
Throw the entire fucking service into the ocean.
Because I'm beginning to understand something:
I've already paid enough.
Recently, I listened to a young woman named JellyStara talk about quitting.
Not quitting her passion.
Not quitting making things.
Not disappearing from the world.
She was quitting something considerably more exhausting:
Trying to please everybody.
And the realization that got her there was simultaneously profound and hilariously terrible motivational-poster material:
We're all going to die.
Well.
Good morning to you too.
Imagine that hanging over the workplace break-room microwave:
YOU WILL EVENTUALLY RETURN TO DUST.
Please remember to label your lunch.
But beneath that uncomfortable fact is something worth considering.
Our time is finite.
There are only so many mornings.
Only so many afternoons.
Only so many evenings spent doing absolutely nothing except enjoying the fact that, for once, nothing is currently on fire.
And if that's true, then spending enormous portions of that time desperately trying to satisfy everybody else's expectations is an incredibly expensive purchase.
Because you're not paying with money.
You're paying with your life.
Minute by minute.
Hour by hour.
Year by year.
And eventually somebody ought to look at the receipt and ask:
“What the fuck did I buy?”
Approval?
Whose?
For how long?
Because there's a particularly nasty flaw in the Approval Economy:
You can do everything correctly and somebody still won't fucking like you.
You can explain yourself perfectly.
Somebody will misunderstand you.
You can be kind.
Somebody will think you're weak.
You can establish boundaries.
Somebody will call you an asshole.
You can work hard.
Somebody will insist you didn't work hard enough.
You can admit a mistake.
Somebody will demand you suffer longer for it.
You can change.
Somebody will insist you're still the person you were before you changed.
You can shrink yourself down until you're practically microscopic...
...and somebody will complain you're still taking up too much fucking room.
Eventually you have to recognize:
THIS GAME DOES NOT HAVE A WIN CONDITION.
So why am I grinding reputation with a faction whose rewards I don't even fucking want?
Now, Suffering and I?
We're acquainted.
Oh, do I know this motherfucker.
Suffering doesn't even knock properly anymore.
It just appears on the porch like an old acquaintance who somehow never realizes you don't particularly enjoy seeing him.
knock knock
"Hey, Gremlin."
No.
"You don't even know what I want."
I have a pretty good fucking idea.
"Maybe I brought character development."
I've developed enough character.
"Personal growth?"
I'm tall enough.
"A valuable life lesson?"
Put it in the mailbox.
"Adversity builds resilience."
Motherfucker, at this point I should be load-bearing.
"So... can I come inside?"
Absolutely the fuck not.
And that's something I've only gradually started understanding.
There is a difference between:
accepting that suffering exists
and
granting suffering unlimited access to your life.
Those are NOT the same thing.
Some suffering cannot be avoided.
People get sick.
People die.
Jobs disappear.
Relationships end.
Money gets tight.
Plans collapse.
People disappoint you.
You disappoint yourself.
Sometimes you make the wrong decision and suffer because of it.
Sometimes you make the right decision and somehow still get kicked directly in the teeth.
Sometimes there is no hidden wisdom.
No grand cosmic lesson.
No inspirational quote waiting at the end.
Sometimes life walks into the room...
WHAM!
...kicks you directly in the balls...
...refuses to elaborate...
...and leaves.
And after lying there for a minute, clutching yourself and reconsidering the fundamental architecture of the universe, the only profound conclusion available is:
“Well. Tuesday fucking sucked.”
That's life.
Inner peace cannot mean preventing all of that.
Because if peace requires a world where nothing painful ever happens...
we are royally fucked.
Maybe peace is something considerably less glamorous.
Maybe peace is learning how not to manufacture additional suffering around the suffering you already have.
Because the first pain may be unavoidable.
The next seventeen?
Those might be DLC.
I've accumulated a few rules over time.
Nothing you'd embroider onto a decorative pillow.
Well...
Maybe I would.
BE BORING.
LISTEN WITH INTEREST, NOT INVESTMENT.
IF IT COSTS ME, I'LL LET IT GO.
And:
WHEN THE BATTLEFIELD CHANGES, CHANGE THE MISSION.
I originally thought of these mostly as survival rules.
Now I'm beginning to suspect they're something else.
They're boundaries.
Little fences between me and unnecessary suffering.
Be boring doesn't mean become lifeless.
It means:
Not every situation deserves escalation.
Not every insult requires retaliation.
Not every misunderstanding requires a twenty-page defense brief.
Not every disagreement needs to become THE BATTLE OF FUCKING GETTYSBURG.
Sometimes the most powerful move available is:
"Okay."
And then you go home.
Listen with interest, not investment doesn't mean stop caring about people.
It means I can listen.
I can sympathize.
I can help.
I can care deeply.
But I do not necessarily have to climb inside somebody else's emotional dumpster fire, close the lid behind me, and announce:
“WELL, I GUESS I LIVE HERE NOW.”
Some problems belong to other people.
Some emotions belong to other people.
Some battles belong to other people.
I can care without adopting them.
Then there's:
When the battlefield changes, change the mission.
That one matters.
Because human beings become strangely loyal to plans.
We decided something once, therefore apparently we must pursue it until either the objective is achieved or our skeleton is discovered clutching the original fucking itinerary.
No.
The battlefield changed.
Change the mission.
The original objective isn't sacred just because yesterday's version of you wanted it.
Changing direction isn't necessarily failure.
Sometimes it's simply noticing that the bridge ahead has collapsed and deciding not to drive the fucking bus into the river.
And finally:
If it costs me, I'll let it go.
That one keeps getting bigger.
Because cost isn't always money.
Something can cost peace.
It can cost sleep.
It can cost dignity.
It can cost time.
It can cost attention.
It can cost your ability to enjoy the five things currently going right because you're staring obsessively at the sixth thing that isn't.
That doesn't mean abandoning everything the moment it becomes uncomfortable.
That's not peace.
That's avoidance.
Worthwhile things sometimes hurt.
Relationships require effort.
Responsibility costs something.
Criticism can be correct.
Sometimes you fucked up.
Sometimes another person genuinely deserves your patience, your time, or your sacrifice.
Sometimes the right decision is expensive.
But there is a difference between paying a necessary cost
and
subscribing to misery because you forgot you could cancel.
And learning that difference?
That might be half the fucking battle.
Maybe that's what I've actually meant all those times I've said:
I just want things to be boring.
Not empty.
Not joyless.
Not numb.
And certainly not some monk-on-a-mountain existence where I transcend earthly desire and survive entirely on sunlight and cucumber water.
Fuck that.
I still want things.
I still have ambitions.
I still want ridiculous shit.
And for the record, should the universe wish to provide yacht money, I remain extremely receptive.
I'm not that enlightened.
But I think what I've actually wanted is something quieter.
I want a life where every unexpected problem doesn't immediately receive a promotion to:
THE EVENT
I want somebody else's opinion to remain exactly where it originated:
with them.
I want a mistake to become something I correct...
...instead of something I replay at 2:37 in the morning before an imaginary tribunal consisting entirely of people who weren't fucking there.
I want changing direction to stop automatically feeling like losing.
I want letting something go to stop automatically feeling like surrender.
And perhaps most importantly:
I don't want peace to be some distant reward the universe finally gives me after I've solved every problem.
Because I'll die waiting.
There will always be another problem.
Another bill.
Another uncertainty.
Another asshole.
Another unexpected expense.
Another misunderstanding.
Another Tuesday.
So maybe peace isn't the prize waiting at the end of the obstacle course.
Maybe peace is something I carry through the obstacle course.
Something I become increasingly unwilling to trade away cheaply.
Which brings us back to our old friend.
knock knock
Oh, for fuck's sake.
"Gremlin?"
What?
"It's Suffering."
I know who you are.
"I've got something for you."
What is it?
"Anxiety about something completely outside your control."
Pass.
"Regret?"
Already have some.
"Other people's expectations?"
No storage space.
"A hypothetical catastrophe that probably won't happen?"
Definitely no.
"What about obsessing over whether everybody understands you correctly?"
Absolutely fucking not.
"Something embarrassing you did in 2007?"
...
Don't fucking start.
"So I can't come in?"
No.
"Not even for five minutes?"
No.
"I thought we were friends."
We are acquainted.
There is a difference.
"Well... what am I supposed to do?"
Funny you should ask.
I've prepared something for you.
"Is that a bag?"
Yes.
"There's another bag inside it."
Correct.
"And another bag inside THAT one."
Structural redundancy.
"Why three?"
Safety first.
"What's inside the third bag?"
Fresh cactus.
"Cactus?"
Homegrown.
"You grew cactus for me?"
Picked it myself this morning.
"That's actually... surprisingly thoughtful."
I'm trying to be a better person.
"Aw."
Don't make this weird.
"Okay. And what's that sitting beside the bags?"
...
"Gremlin?"
That's The Brick.
"Is The Brick necessary?"
Hopefully not.
"Is it... ceremonial?"
Let's call it motivational.
"Right."
Take your cactus.
"All of it?"
Every fucking piece.
"Well then..."
...
"Cya."
Cya.
door closes
And that's the thing.
I don't need to destroy Suffering.
I couldn't if I wanted to.
I don't need to defeat it permanently.
I don't need to become some enlightened bastard floating six inches above the ground, immune to grief, anger, fear, embarrassment, disappointment, or the occasional overwhelming desire to scream:
FAAAAAAAK!
I'm human.
That stuff comes with the hardware.
Maybe I just need to stop inviting Suffering to stay longer than necessary.
It'll come back.
Of course it will.
That's life.
It'll knock again.
And sometimes, unfortunately, I'll have to open the door.
Some things must be dealt with.
Some pain must be felt.
Some losses have to be mourned.
Some consequences have to be faced.
Some lessons actually do need to be learned.
But when Suffering arrives carrying nothing except another box of unnecessary bullshit?
I can leave the fucking door closed.
Because life already provides enough suffering for free.
I don't have to pay extra.
I don't need the DLC.
I don't need the Premium Pass.
I don't need the Collector's Edition.
I don't need the SUFFERING+ FAMILY PLAN WITH UNLIMITED ANXIETY AND THREE MONTHS OF REGRET INCLUDED.
Cancel it.
Unsubscribe.
Return to sender.
NO FUCKING REFUNDS NECESSARY.
And if Suffering has a problem with my cancellation?
Well.
It already knows where I keep the three bags.
It already knows about The Brick.
And most importantly...
it knows exactly where I grow the fucking cactuses.
—Jerry “The Ankle-Biter” Silverhand