Seneca, writing to a friend, says, “What need is there to weep over parts of life? The whole of it calls for tears.” If that hasn’t sapped the energy out of you already, then there’s Buddha’s key realization, the first of his Four Noble Truths, that “Life is suffering”. And, for the nudge over the fence and into a pit of despair, you have Phil Stutz, a modern-day psychotherapist, telling you that there is no escape from problems in life.

If you’ve been alive for any length of time, you have experienced suffering. As the years go by, the chances of us having experienced more of the less desirable aspects of life increases. Sadness, hopelessness, disappointment, heartbreak, hatred, jealousy, envy, betrayal, and loneliness become familiar refrains. Even if you have somehow been untouched by the unsavoury, it would be a very rare middle-aged person who is still surprised by the death of someone dear. And, your own years have ticked away and oblivion looms.

I suppose one has to admit they have a problem before they can hope to handle it.

As will-sapping as the Stoics’ expectation and acceptance of fate may seem, it is designed to help us suffer less when the inevitable arrives. It is the unexpectedness, say the Stoics, of mishaps that has us suffering rather than the mishap itself. The Stoics keep memento mori, for instance, skulls and withered flowers, to remind them of death, so its sting is dulled when the time comes. Mishaps are part of life, says the Stoic, and it is best to anticipate it, strengthen our forbearance, and thus suffer less.

Buddha’s realization is a somber preface to a surprisingly sanguine treatise on dismantling suffering and living well. That life is suffering seems banal on the face of it, a truism. However, it hides the ferocity with which Buddha attacks the problem. If life is suffering, he realizes, then it is a universal condition and not personal. Suffering isn’t subject to the vicissitudes of an individual life, like bad luck or illness, but being a human condition, arises from within, through craving, attachment, and ignorance. If suffering has a cause, the cause can be eradicated, and the Eight-Fold Path is our way out of the mire. Buddha moves us from a position of resignation to one in which freedom is within our hands.

It is instinctual to avoid pain and it is this avoidance that keeps us moribund. We wince before the blow falls and recede to our corners thinking ourselves safe. There is no safety in cowering, only decay. Wants and desires take us out of our safe zones, so they get effaced. Being unique might get us criticized, so identity is shed. We stay secluded, cloistered, trying to find virtue in our limits. Diffident, jaded, and hopeless, we don’t raise our hands when opportunity calls believing happiness is the birthright of others. This isn’t safety, this is a circling of the drain. Stutz rages against this darkening of the light. He believes the way out — short of a life of meditation and austerity — is to face your problems head-on. He promises no riches, no everlasting joy, and no release from problems — they are going to be there from here on until the end. Why bother, then? Because, by facing our problems, we will grow. As we grow, our problems will change too: the problem of being too shy to express yourself may be replaced with the problem of finding a publisher for your book; the problem of needing people’s approval may be replaced with the problem of drawing healthy boundaries; the problem of wondering if this is all there is to life is replaced with the problem of choosing how you want to shape it. That’s worth something, isn’t it?

Wishing for a life without problems is unrealistic. Struggles aren’t particular to you, particular to the path you’ve taken, the choices you have made. If it weren’t for these issues, there would have been others. It is the human condition. Strange as it might sound, this should fill you with the energy to take a step forward. Take it. Grow.

I wish you well. I wish you a good life.