As a psychotherapist one of the weirdest things we tell people to do is to be willing to “feel their pain.” When I was in therapy, I asked the same question my clients ask me: “Why should I feel my pain? Isn’t it better to avoid pain at all costs?” Actually, a willingness to feel your pain is the secret of true happiness. Here is why.
In my family, Sunday night is movie night. As a film buff, I try to find something my wife, my 8-year-old daughter, Maya, my 5-year-old son, Ethan, and I will all like. It is a chance for some shared fun and to grow. Stories, I believe, are the best way to teach children of all ages from 5 to 90.
I found a film on Netflix-On-Demand that looked like it would work. It was called “Where the Red Fern Grows.”
This film, from 1974, is based on a 1961 children’s novel by Wilson Rawls. It tells the story of a poor boy from the Ozarks, Billy, who dreams of owning a pair of coonhound hunting dogs. With great determination he works for two years to save enough money to buy the dogs. Billy’s hounds become known as the best raccoon hunters around.
Toward the end of the film, Billy goes out hunting with his dogs, Old Dan and Little Ann. He gets threatened by a mountain lion. Old Dan saves Billy’s life, but dies from his wounds. A few days later, Little Ann dies on his grave of a broken heart.
My wife and I had no idea that this would happen in the film, and maybe we wouldn’t have watched it if we had known. We were all bawling. My kids were inconsolable.
My son protested loudly through his tears. “I don’t like this movie! I want there to be a different ending!”
My wife brought him to bed. I lay down with Maya, still crying, to talk about the lessons of the movie, to help her with her sadness.
We talked about the many things we learned from the movie and then we got to the end. We plan to get a dog soon. “Will our dog die?” Maya asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Do you still want to get one?” I asked her.
She had to think about this for a minute. Then she understood.
The movie is told in flashback. Billy is a grown-up when he tells us the story of his boyhood in the hills with Old Dan and Little Ann. He remembers this time as the happiest of his life. How could that be, when it ended so tragically?
After his dogs die, as a result of their fame and winnings in hunting contests, Billy and his family are able to leave their farm and move into town. Right before he leaves he visits the grave and discovers that a red fern has grown there. In Indian legend only an angel can plant a red fern, and it makes that land sacred.
Maya and I talked about what the red fern means. We decided that it means that Billy was so happy in that time of his life because he had the love of his dogs and family, and because he loved them. Now we all know that dogs die, and we will all suffer grief and pain when they do. But if we want love, if we want to truly live, if we want true happiness, we need to be willing to feel that pain.
All too many people suffer lives of emptiness and regret because, in avoiding pain, they never get the most important thing we can have in our one chance at life: love. The red fern tells us that though we shed tears of sorrow for the loss of Old Dan and Little Ann, it is worth it, because it is only by being willing to feel our pain that we can have true happiness.
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Well said, Glenn! Since my father died very suddenly when I was young, when I met my now-husband, at first I would think about “what if he dies” quite a bit, since he is the person I am most attached to in my life. I realize it will happen one day, but no longer think about it that much, I am able to enjoy living and being in the present.
This is lovely Glenn…thanks for your post!
love this glenn ~ thank you!
What you write made me think about : how BIG is the cost of not feeling. This too is a conversation I often have with clients and even within myself.
I believe that when we decide to not feel something, it does not mean that we get rid of it, but actually how we agree to loose our awareness around it. As we disown it, this pushing it away, or under the rug only depresses things to the point of creating stuckness and inability to move and breathe freely. Expression supports shifts – and it is so lovely how you spoke with your daughter.
To the mystery of life and our hearts and minds!
Glenn,
First I want to commend you for making Sunday night a time of bonding by watching a movie together that everyone can enjoy. There are many lessons to be learned through this experience for all of you. Making this a priority creates deep roots of love in your children.
Second, thank you for sharing this with us to illustrate the important role pain plays in our lives. Feeling pain enables us to feel happiness at a deep level. As a psychotherapist, you know that repressing pain doesn’t make it go away, but leads to problems that ensure the blockage of happiness.
I have a few childhood friends who have diminished their happiness throughout their lives by trying to avoid pain and risk. As a result, here we are in our sixties, and having lived “safe and shallow” lives they never married for fear of heartbreak or never even ventured too many miles from our hometown. They think that all that I do is miraculous, and yet, it’s not. I’ve just been willing to accept the full bloom and fragrance of life’s roses even though they inevitably die.
Glenn, thank you very much for those words. The other day, one of my oldest and dearest friends, Brian, died suddenly and his death is one of the most painful and difficult things I have had to go through. Especially the first couple days, I felt absolutely inconsolable. But I knew that I would not trade anything in the world for the years we were together on this earth. And it is his deep friendship, generosity, love, and brilliance that I will always, always remember. And though the pain has been–and still is–nearly debilitating, I know it’s something I will just have to get through. And I know my life will change forever. But fortunately, Brian and I have many very close mutual friends, so we are all dealing and will continue to deal with his loss together, as the family we are. And treasure every day we have with each other.
Just before reading this I got an email from my aunt who decided , after 30 years running a jewelry store in Miami, that it was time to close it. She was saying good bye to all her loyal customers, and friends, and ended the email with this quote:
“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard” ~ Annie
I think this reinforces the point of The Red Fern very nicely.
Thanks for sharing!
Allison
Thanks, Glenn. What an important subject. It’s beautiful that you love and cry together as a family … and let the truth reverberate in the air for Maya.
I’ve found that emotional pain is clean and fresh–energy flows and then resolves and we find out we are free to feel everything and be alive! Beyond e-motion is Union. A healthy flowing feeling life leads to empathy which unites us all.
Where the Red Fern Grows is on my movie list now
~Amy
Hey, this was an amazing read. One thing, I want to know is that how do I exactly know if it is the time to get back with my Ex? I don’t want to look very desperate or something but don’t want her to move on too. I really miss her and want to get her back again but by acting cool. Does it depend on person or is there a specific time after which I can try my luck? I hope you answer this.
Yes! That book was a childhood favorite–one I can’t wait to share with my children.
And this topic is so important. I deeply believe that the safe space to experience pain and learn the lessons it brings is one of the most important gifts we provide to our clients.