The Relativity Experiment

The scoring system is fake and so is the timeline

Let me start with something real.

When you lose your father at six years old, your entire life shifts in ways most people will never understand. There is no instruction manual. There is no normal. There is no “childhood as scheduled.” You grow up faster than everyone around you, whether you meant to or not.

So when kids complained about their dads being away on work trips in their suburban houses of four, I was the twelve-year-old climbing a ladder to hang my own Christmas lights. Their world felt small and safe. Mine felt like survival and self-sufficiency.

So yes, it took me a while to understand relativity. For a long time, I could not understand how anyone could complain about things that felt like what “normal” must feel like. I could not understand how someone with two parents, a comfortable life, and a full family could claim they had it hard.

Their pain felt unfounded.
Mine felt undeniable.

But here is the twist I did not see coming.

I was wrong.
Cute, but wrong.

For a long time, I thought pain was ranked.
Like there was some invisible scoreboard in the sky giving points for who had it worse.

It was a badge I had no desire to wear.

And whatever I was going through at the time?
Obviously, the worst thing any human had ever survived.

In my 20’s, there always seemed to be some challenge, and I was certain I was the most emotionally wounded person on earth.

Then I learned something important.
All pain feels like “the worst” when it is happening to you.
Not because it is objectively the worst, but because it is yours.

That is relativity.
The human version.
Not Einstein and chalkboards.
Just people trying to make sense of their lives.

Nothing feels the same to everyone, because we are not all built from the same ingredients.

Different childhood.
Different nervous system.
Different attachment style.
Different history.
Different coping skills.
Different suitcase of trauma.

So yes.
What feels like a paper cut to someone else can hit you like open heart surgery.
And what shattered you might barely scratch another person.

None of us are wrong.
We are just different.
And every experience counts because someone lived it.

Once that landed, everything softened.
People became easier to love.
Compassion felt obvious.
Judgment felt lazy.

I retired from the Pain Olympics.
No more comparing.
No more “other people have it worse.”
No more “you should be over this by now.”

Do not let anyone minimize your experience.
When someone says “it could be worse,” what they really mean is “shrink your feelings to make me comfortable.”

Hard pass.

Now, if you want to get science-y about it, here is the official breakdown.

And yes, I get to say science-y. My therapist broke down in session this week that I am one of those rare unicorn humans who is both right-brained and left-brained. Apparently, that is a thing. It means I get to be creative and logical, emotional and analytical, intuitive and practical.

It tracks. I started college as an accounting major, realized I would rather chew glass than do taxes forever, and went right back to design, where beauty, strategy, rules, emotion, logic, and chaos all get to sit together without anyone filing a 1099 about it.

So here is the adult, therapy approved, scientifically sound lab report:

Hypothesis:
Everyone believes their pain is the biggest and most catastrophic until they learn to see beyond themselves.

Experiment:
Live. Love. Lose. Cry. Go to therapy. Think you are healed. Get triggered. Repeat.

Conclusion:
Nobody wins the suffering Olympics.
Empathy is undefeated.
And anyone who claims they are fine without self awareness is absolutely not fine.

This matters especially in divorce and breakup, because people love to compare heartbreak.
Who had it worse.
Who moved on faster.
Who looks happier.
Who won.

As if grief has a stopwatch.
As if healing has a scoreboard.
As if someone else gets to vote on your feelings.

No.

Your heart matters because it is yours.
Your pain counts because you felt it.
Your healing timeline is your own, not a performance for public review.

Which brings me to something new.

I am building PLAN D.
A divorce support course that is actually empowering.
Not sad.
Not pitiful.
Not “let us sit on the floor and cry forever.”

Tools. Scripts. Strategy. Strength.
The exact support I wish I had when my life was breaking and rebuilding at the same time.

Whether it is for you, your best friend, or your sister, I’ve got you.

Sign up for PLAN D.
More support. More clarity. A softer landing.
Because the only thing worse than a breakup is going through it on your own.