I used to think about it all the time: “Why me?”

It didn’t make any sense to me why some of us are randomly born into bad situations while others grow up to lead thriving lives. It bothered me so much that I couldn’t figure it out. As a teen, I would grimace at the woes of other kids my age; their problems felt inconsequential compared to what I was going through at home. I’d think to myself, “Grow up. If only you knew.” Before long, I began to resent most of my peers. It didn’t feel fair that I had to fight so hard to make it through the day, and they didn’t.

This same resentment colored my view of the world into early adulthood. If you had asked me then, I would have told you that I couldn’t trust anyone who hadn’t experienced some degree of hardship in their early years. I convinced myself that there was no way I could connect with–let alone relate to–anyone who hadn’t fought to overcome some form of early life adversity.

It was this flawed logic that created a wedge between me and my community at large. I struggled to form meaningful relationships with my peers and colleagues alike. Most anyone who knew me in early adulthood would probably tell you that I had an attitude problem. They weren’t wrong.

It took me a few years yet, but I finally started to realize the error in my judgement. Since then, I have come to understand some key things.

First, is that the human experience is relative. All people, regardless of their background, financial status, or other factors, experience pain and adversity in their lives at some time or another. The hardships that others face at an early age do not disqualify or invalidate the experiences of those who are challenged later in life with events like heartbreak, grief, or acute trauma. The brain and body register these events as adverse experiences all the same, and respond accordingly.

Second, is a matter of accepting that fairness is a subjective concept. Not only that, but trying to get multiple people to agree on what is fair vs. what is not often leads to dissension and staves off empathy between individuals and their communities. Simply put, where do we get off trying to decide what is fair in this world, and how fairness should be ladled out? Apart from navigating matters of the justice system at a governmental level, why should it be up to us to judge what type of human experience is “fair” for one and “unfair” for the other?

At the end of the day, God is the only judge. He is the sole decision maker around who receives mercy, who is called home, or thrown into the fire to forge themselves stronger. There is no way any of us can ever pretend to know His will, or what He has in store for us. Any time we build resentment around what we think or assume is unfair, we are asserting ourselves in a position where we don’t belong.

If you’re in a tough situation and have little support, yet you see others in softer spots receiving hand outs: don’t exert your resentment toward those individuals and whine that it’s “unfair.” Unfortunately, it’s not for you to judge. Instead, consider pivoting your attention inward to how you can help yourself through self-reflection, non-judgement and grace.

Our life experiences and how we absorb, process and transmute pain are all relative. These experiences are also the avenues that build the bridge of connection between ourselves and others. How we relate to one another is how we can learn to facilitate empathy and encouragement with each other. Instead of focusing on the resentment we have toward our own pain or suffering, we can seek to connect with others and help each other.

As I reflect on the former version of myself who casted judgement against others like stones, I am grateful to have learned what I know now. Instead of placing blame or harnessing resentment, I seek to accept one simple thing:

this world is not for to understand, but to experience. One day, when the time is right and we are past this human plane, we may get to know. Until then, it’s not for me to say… so let’s just live, anyway.