The experience of hardship, for most of us, builds a very strong and defensive sense of self. It's right up there with righteous indignation in the way it constructs a "me" that feels different from and possibly superior to "you."
So I think it's worthwhile to look at our attitudes towards suffering and ferret out the ways in which we cherish pain and use it as a weapon to keep the world at bay.
When I first moved to Minnesota, I lived for a period of months with my then-boyfriend's parents. They were first-generation immigrants and had friends who were also from various parts of Europe, some of whom had lived through World War II as teenagers or young adults.
One in particular had been imprisoned in a concentration camp. I remember how formidable a person she was—not especially warm or friendly, and always prone to bringing up the trials she had endured at our age when one of us "kids" complained about anything that might be going on in our own lives. At that time in this community there was a scare about the drinking water possibly containing asbestos. For a couple of years we hauled water in plastic gallon jugs from the one location that offered a filtered tap. The water, after sitting around in the jugs for a few days, always had a sour, plastic taste. I think I must have said something about that when this person piped up about having to drink her own urine during the war.
The message was, of course, "I win the suffering contest." A little bit of psychic warfare with shame as the ammunition.
This is an extreme example, but we all do this. The self that cherishes its suffering (which is always in the imagined past and not occurring in this present moment) is a violent psychic entity. And yet we have a hidden belief in the nobility of suffering, which occurs simultaneously with a belief that pain is indicative of some kind of failure.
If I am suffering, then I am a victim. If I am a victim, then someone else is to blame for my pain. If someone else is to blame, then I am innocent. If I am innocent, then God will not strike me down, he'll go after you! OR, if I am suffering, I am a failure, and therefore must be guilty and am being punished. God will pick you instead of me, and I am abandoned.
Such is the splendiferous logic of the dream-character. It will use any methods available to it to deepen the dream, to make it more complex, more subterranean, more externalized. At one and the same time it wants to see itself as a victim and as a savior. And it wields the sense of self it gains from suffering as a way to maintain the reality of the dream.
We all, if we are identified with our bodies, experience pain and loss. These are inevitable parts of the game. For some of us the worst losses occur early on in life; for others they occur closer to the end. For some of us, viewed from the outside, there is comparatively little pain in a lifetime, and for yet others there is monumental pain.
So just for a second, go silent. Bring yourself back to the present moment. Notice your breath. Roll your eyes. Just rest in this silent thought-free presence in which there is no suffering.
"Dream softly of your sinless brother, who unites with you in holy innocence. And from this dream the Lord of Heaven will Himself awaken His beloved Son. Dream of your brother's kindnesses instead of dwelling in your dreams on his mistakes. Select his thoughtfulness to dream about instead of counting up the hurts he gave. Forgive him his illusions, and give thanks to him for all the helpfulness he gave. And do not brush aside his many gifts because he is not perfect in your dreams. He represents his Father, Whom you see as offering both life and death to you. Brother, He gives but life." T-VI.15, 16