I am finally attempting to review The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. Rubin was riding a bus with her daughter on the way to school one morning. She realized she was not as happy as she should be with her life. She was financially comfortable, she had work she enjoyed, and she had a wonderful family. Thus came a question: Why was she not overwhelmingly happy? What was standing in her way? In that moment The Happiness Project was born.
In order to find a place to start, Rubin started reading everything she could about happiness. Once she had learned about the various happiness theories to which people ascribe, she set out to test them for herself. She had no idea how many of them would apply to her personally. Rubin also realized this was a daunting undertaking, so she broke the theories down into smaller more manageable tasks. To provide structure, she created a theme for each month of the year. Her themes include: Vitality, Marriage, Work, Parenthood, Leisure, Friendship, Money, Eternity, Books, Mindfulness and Attitude. Each theme had several specific resolutions. These resolutions included: laugh out loud, keep a food diary, write a novel, keep a gratitude notebook, give something up, make three new friends, take time to be silly, sing in the morning, ask for help, quit nagging and go to bed earlier. Before she embarked on these months she created twelve personal commandments. These commandments ranged from "Be Gretchen" to "Act the way I want to feel" to "Do it now".
Throughout the book Rubin learns what works to help her happiness each month. Some theories work well, others not nearly as much. She also discovers her own personal "Four Splendid Truths" for her happiness. One of her great discoveries was how keeping her resolutions at the forefront of her mind via a chart was incredibly helpful in maintaining focus. All of these discoveries lead up to a central idea about what truly makes up happiness for her.
All in all I learned much about happiness from reading her book. It helped me understand some of my own obstacles to joy. It has reminded me of what is truly important in life. While I am not currently ready to take on a happiness project of my own, it is an idea that appeals to me. The book was well worth the time to read. I truly enjoyed the ideas and the writing. You will have to read for yourself exactly how she fared in her own project. I hope you do, it will be time well spent. It will not only teach you the theories behind happiness, it may also help you find more joy in your own life.
Showing posts with label Memoir. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Memoir. Show all posts
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Book Review Time!
There is a book I had been wanting to read for a long time. However, I kept pushing it back to "later". I'm not sure why I didn't just take the plunge and read it. I think I was afraid I would be disappointed by the story. It had been hyped by many I know and respect. The book in question is Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin. Like me, I am sure you have heard of this book. Don't be afraid of the story, you won't be disappointed.
This book is a memoir/biography of Greg Mortenson. Greg accidentally stumbled into a small Pakistani village on his descent from K2. While there he was taken care of by the village elder and his family. He realized the village did not have a school for the children. In his gratitude for the hospitality extended to him, Greg promised to return and build a school for the village. Thus begins a new direction in Mortenson's life.
The book follows his falterings and successes. It shows the development of his philosophy for building schools. It explains the lack of education in Pakistan and Afghanistan, especially for girls. It shows how much he sacrificed for his vision of education for all children. It also outlines his personal life during the years he was starting up his Central Asia Institute.
It also shows how we, as Americans, are not likely to help poor Muslims yet we jump at the chance to help Buddhists and indigenous peoples. Especially after 9/11 Americans have a tough time understanding the culture in Pakistan, Iran, Afghanistan, etc. We still fear them because of the extremism we have all witnessed in the media. Instead of fearing them, Greg Mortenson has learned to understand them. He has stumbled is way through their culture in a way that is inspiring.
Overall, I found Mortenson's story inspiring. It was not a quick read for me. First, it was over the Christmas holidays. I did not have much reading time to spare. Second, it really made me think. I would stop reading and just think about what I had just learned from the book. I wish the story had been told in first person. I think that would have given the story a bigger emotional punch. However, it is well written and interesting. Thus, I recommend the book and hope it opens you up to a new way of thinking.
This book is a memoir/biography of Greg Mortenson. Greg accidentally stumbled into a small Pakistani village on his descent from K2. While there he was taken care of by the village elder and his family. He realized the village did not have a school for the children. In his gratitude for the hospitality extended to him, Greg promised to return and build a school for the village. Thus begins a new direction in Mortenson's life.
The book follows his falterings and successes. It shows the development of his philosophy for building schools. It explains the lack of education in Pakistan and Afghanistan, especially for girls. It shows how much he sacrificed for his vision of education for all children. It also outlines his personal life during the years he was starting up his Central Asia Institute.
It also shows how we, as Americans, are not likely to help poor Muslims yet we jump at the chance to help Buddhists and indigenous peoples. Especially after 9/11 Americans have a tough time understanding the culture in Pakistan, Iran, Afghanistan, etc. We still fear them because of the extremism we have all witnessed in the media. Instead of fearing them, Greg Mortenson has learned to understand them. He has stumbled is way through their culture in a way that is inspiring.
Overall, I found Mortenson's story inspiring. It was not a quick read for me. First, it was over the Christmas holidays. I did not have much reading time to spare. Second, it really made me think. I would stop reading and just think about what I had just learned from the book. I wish the story had been told in first person. I think that would have given the story a bigger emotional punch. However, it is well written and interesting. Thus, I recommend the book and hope it opens you up to a new way of thinking.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Book Review Time!
I am a fan of Jeanette Walls. I loved her memoir, The Glass Castle. It was amazing. I was thrilled when Half Broke Horses: A True-Life Novel was published a couple months ago. To say I had eagerly anticipated reading another book of Walls' is akin to saying Sweet Pea is a bit excited about Christmas. Walls writes a mostly autobiographical novel in her grandmother's voice. Lily Casey Smith was a tough as nails frontier woman. She was resourceful and smart. She lived in a dugout house for many years. She rode a horse for 28 days from New Mexico to Arizona alone at age 15. She broke wild horses and played poker. She was a bootlegger during prohibition. She was essentially a half broke horse herself.
The narrative uses the dialect Jeanette remembers hearing from her grandmother. The stories told are those Jeanette learned from her mother and grandmother. Walls also used newspaper stories and public records to substantiate much of what she writes. However, the details that give this book life and allow it to read like a novel were filled in by Walls' imagination.
The story is entertaining. It is full of flash floods, heartbreak, and humor. The writing style lends personality to Lily. I thought the story was well paced and interesting. The characters were well developed, interesting and likable. Overall I truly enjoyed the book and I highly recommend it.
The narrative uses the dialect Jeanette remembers hearing from her grandmother. The stories told are those Jeanette learned from her mother and grandmother. Walls also used newspaper stories and public records to substantiate much of what she writes. However, the details that give this book life and allow it to read like a novel were filled in by Walls' imagination.
The story is entertaining. It is full of flash floods, heartbreak, and humor. The writing style lends personality to Lily. I thought the story was well paced and interesting. The characters were well developed, interesting and likable. Overall I truly enjoyed the book and I highly recommend it.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Book Review Time!
I realize I have been remiss in reviewing my books lately. So, I start today with The Late Bloomer's Revolution by Amy Cohen. This memoir was a joy to read. There is sadness as well as lightheartedness throughout the book. It follows Amy's life from her late 20s well into her 30s. She brings us along on bad first dates. She lets us experience her heartbreak. We follow her career.
Amy is essentially trying to learn who she is and who she will become as her life ebbs and flows. Does she want to be married? Does she want a family? It is clear in the beginning of the story that she and her mother are close. However, her mother has been battling cancer of one form or another since Amy was young. As the story begins her mother is dying. Amy wonders who she will be without her mother. Her mother tries to impart as much wisdom as possible before she passes. Some of the advice causes Amy to pause as she is not sure she agrees with the sentiments imparted.
Some of the circumstances and opportunities that come her way are hilarious. I found myself laughing out loud on more than one occassion. There are moments in which you feel supreme pity for her. In those moments you feel the pain she is in and want to take it away for her. There are also a few times when you want to smack her and tell her to get over it. As someone who took a more traditional route in life, I could not really relate to the angst of her single girl world. However, the theme of loneliness is one all of us understand. As is the idea that we are all unfinished. Amy spends time exploring where she belongs and with whom. While I have found the people I intend to spend my life with, I too feel unsettled sometimes about my place outside of the four walls of my home.
Amy ultimately finds answers to her questions. While they may not be the answers she expected she finds satisfaction in them. I hope we can all find our unique place in this world. I am certain I am uniquely qualified for something. Since I have no idea what that something is, I am going to continue to wait and be still and allow the answers to come.
Amy is essentially trying to learn who she is and who she will become as her life ebbs and flows. Does she want to be married? Does she want a family? It is clear in the beginning of the story that she and her mother are close. However, her mother has been battling cancer of one form or another since Amy was young. As the story begins her mother is dying. Amy wonders who she will be without her mother. Her mother tries to impart as much wisdom as possible before she passes. Some of the advice causes Amy to pause as she is not sure she agrees with the sentiments imparted.
Some of the circumstances and opportunities that come her way are hilarious. I found myself laughing out loud on more than one occassion. There are moments in which you feel supreme pity for her. In those moments you feel the pain she is in and want to take it away for her. There are also a few times when you want to smack her and tell her to get over it. As someone who took a more traditional route in life, I could not really relate to the angst of her single girl world. However, the theme of loneliness is one all of us understand. As is the idea that we are all unfinished. Amy spends time exploring where she belongs and with whom. While I have found the people I intend to spend my life with, I too feel unsettled sometimes about my place outside of the four walls of my home.
Amy ultimately finds answers to her questions. While they may not be the answers she expected she finds satisfaction in them. I hope we can all find our unique place in this world. I am certain I am uniquely qualified for something. Since I have no idea what that something is, I am going to continue to wait and be still and allow the answers to come.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Inspirational
My book club chose Same Kind of Different as Me for our current selection. If you are looking for an inspirational read, I highly suggest this memoir. It tells the story of two very different men's lives. These two men have polar opposite situations in life. They are brought together by one incredible woman. The story is told in two distinct voices. Denver's is told in his dialect. Ron's has a more proper voice. I enjoyed the two styles, but I don't mind dialects.
Denver is a black man living on the streets of Ft. Worth, Texas. He was never given much of a chance for a "normal" life. Born into a sharecropping family, Denver never attended school. Never. The "Man", who owned the land Denver and his family farmed, purposely kept his workers uneducated. Denver and his family was completely illiterate. Thus, they had no way of knowing how much cotton they had produced or how much it was worth. All of their belongings were purchased on credit from the "Man". He kept the books. Thus, they were basically modern-day slaves.
Ron is a wealthy international art dealer in Ft. Worth. Luck brought him his career and much of his success. He attended Texas Christian University. He married a wonderful woman and had two great kids. He took everything he had for granted. Everything. He became complacent and judgemental.
Ron's wife Debbie brings these two men together. They never expected to become friends. However, life brought them together in an unbreakable way. The story is interesting and full of contrast. I laughed and I cried. Sometimes I loved each character and sometimes I loathed each character. They are so true and real. In the end the story was irresistable.
Denver is a black man living on the streets of Ft. Worth, Texas. He was never given much of a chance for a "normal" life. Born into a sharecropping family, Denver never attended school. Never. The "Man", who owned the land Denver and his family farmed, purposely kept his workers uneducated. Denver and his family was completely illiterate. Thus, they had no way of knowing how much cotton they had produced or how much it was worth. All of their belongings were purchased on credit from the "Man". He kept the books. Thus, they were basically modern-day slaves.
Ron is a wealthy international art dealer in Ft. Worth. Luck brought him his career and much of his success. He attended Texas Christian University. He married a wonderful woman and had two great kids. He took everything he had for granted. Everything. He became complacent and judgemental.
Ron's wife Debbie brings these two men together. They never expected to become friends. However, life brought them together in an unbreakable way. The story is interesting and full of contrast. I laughed and I cried. Sometimes I loved each character and sometimes I loathed each character. They are so true and real. In the end the story was irresistable.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Thoughts on Memoirs
I love a well written memoir. I find them fascinating. The book I am reading now is a memoir. It was chosen by our book club to be our next conquest. When ordering the book for my Kindle 2, I saw the reviews were stellar. The average rating was five stars. However, there were a few rogues who gave it only a single star. I was intrigued. How can a book with well over 300 five star reviews, have a handful of one star reviews. I had to read them. I just could not help myself.
After reading a few, I realized what was happening with these reviews. The reviewers did not dislike the book as much as dislike one of the authors in particular. This is a phenomenon I have seen in past memoir reviews I have read. When researching Down Came the Rain, I found people reviewing Brooke Shield's life choices, not the book. I was annoyed by the public's inability to read a book and at least be polite. I wanted to comment on their reviews and tell each one (where the person was judging the life and not the book) to knock it off.
It is amazing how much we love to pass judgment on other people. I am no different. It is much more fun to gossip about others and judge their decisions. We are in the cheap seats and pulling punches is fun. How much better would it be for us to stop judging and start listening? How many of us ridicule out of insecurity? Isn't it easier to look at the speck in another person's eye without examining the log in our own? I know it for me. This has always been a weakness of mine. However, with two little pairs of ears listening to every word that comes out of my mouth (unless of course those words involve cleaning up toys, eating veggies, or bedtime, ahem), I am learning that I need to edit my comments. Something that is funny coming from a thirty something is not so amusing when repeated (several times) by a three year old. Hearing her innocent voice repeat my snarky remarks reinforces how tacky those snide comments sound. The next time I start to chastise someone else's choices, I hope I will take pause. I hope I will reassess the situation and shut the hell up.
After reading a few, I realized what was happening with these reviews. The reviewers did not dislike the book as much as dislike one of the authors in particular. This is a phenomenon I have seen in past memoir reviews I have read. When researching Down Came the Rain, I found people reviewing Brooke Shield's life choices, not the book. I was annoyed by the public's inability to read a book and at least be polite. I wanted to comment on their reviews and tell each one (where the person was judging the life and not the book) to knock it off.
It is amazing how much we love to pass judgment on other people. I am no different. It is much more fun to gossip about others and judge their decisions. We are in the cheap seats and pulling punches is fun. How much better would it be for us to stop judging and start listening? How many of us ridicule out of insecurity? Isn't it easier to look at the speck in another person's eye without examining the log in our own? I know it for me. This has always been a weakness of mine. However, with two little pairs of ears listening to every word that comes out of my mouth (unless of course those words involve cleaning up toys, eating veggies, or bedtime, ahem), I am learning that I need to edit my comments. Something that is funny coming from a thirty something is not so amusing when repeated (several times) by a three year old. Hearing her innocent voice repeat my snarky remarks reinforces how tacky those snide comments sound. The next time I start to chastise someone else's choices, I hope I will take pause. I hope I will reassess the situation and shut the hell up.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Another Book Review...
I have recently confided my diagnosis of postpartum depression. It has been a battle, but I am thankful to feel as if I am winning the war. To learn how someone else coped with this disease I read Down Came the Rain My Journey Through Postpartum Depression by Brooke Shields. I chose her book because I appreciated how she had been so publicly candid about her struggle.
The book's early chapters outline Brooke's struggle with infertility. Evidently fertility treatments can make some women more susceptible to postpartum depression. She also explains both the physical and emotional pain of a miscarriage. It seems once she conceives her daughter Rowan the pregnancy is uneventful. She feels well and strong. She takes good care of herself. In short, she did everything right.
The month leading up to delivery she experiences a highly personal loss. The delivery also does not go well. She has major complications. As a celebrity she also has privacy issues in the hospital. Once she finally gets home, everything starts to fall apart. The rest of the book chronicles her realization that she needs help and what she does to cope with the disease. At the end she summarizes the decisions she made which were helpful and those which were detrimental to her recovery.
Overall I enjoyed her memoir. It was an easy read and was relatively well written. She was encouraging and honest. I truly appreciate her coming forward to help erase any stigma associated with this disease.
While reading, it was comforting to know someone else had been in a similar situation and had come out the other side healthy and strong. In some ways her depression was more obvious to those around her since its onset was immediately after delivery. Postpartum depression can come on any time in the first year after the baby's birth. Mine didn't hit until three to four months postpartum. Mine was also more gradual. One day was hard. Then the next was not bad. Then the next couple of days were tough. Pretty soon all the days were tough and I did not even see how unhappy I had become. After about four months I reached a breaking point and knew something was off. I couldn't really put my finger on the problem, but I knew something had to change.
So, I started exercising. Usually this is a good idea for women struggling with depression. Sadly, it didn't really help in my case. This is mostly because the exercise caused me to lose my milk supply. The reduction in my milk supply caused my breastfed baby to wake more frequently in the night. Poor Panda Girl was hungry. At this point she was eight months old and had never tasted formula. I tried to feed her some to supplement and she hated it. I started to eat more to make up for the calories I was burning working out. Instead of increasing my dwindling milk supply, the eating caused me to gain weight. In the meantime I am sure my hormones were probably all over the place. I also have thyroid disease and I am sure it played a role in my struggle. At this time Sweet Pea, my very stubborn child, was refusing to potty train. So there I was with two kids in diapers, up several times a night and I had no real break to take care of myself on a regular basis. I was exhausted. I was uninterested. I was mad as a hornet at my situation.
I was able to wean Panda Girl when she was eleven months. Thankfully she loves whole milk. The first night she had a bottle of whole milk she slept through the night and never looked back. That same week Sweet Pea finally consented to being potty trained. At that point we were headed in the right direction. I was sure I would start to feel better soon. I started exercising more, hoping that would hasten my recovery. Nothing seemed to work. I still longed to crawl into bed all day, every day.
Once I realized how tired I really was, I was certain my problem had its root in my thyroid issues. One of the biggest symptoms of Hashimoto's Disease is fatigue. My endocrinologist's appointment was just a couple of months away, I decided to just solider on until then. That was a decision I would live to regret. My appointment finally arrived the first week of August. I had dutifully had all my blood work done prior to the day I was seeing my doctor. I wanted the appointment to be productive, not one riddled with theories. I walked in to talk to my doctor and he reviewed the symptoms I had listed to the nurse that I was experiencing. He looked at my blood work and it looked perfect. There was nothing more that could be done with my thyroid. The levels were at just the right points. In that moment, I started to cry. I could no longer explain away my symptoms. I worried that I was destined to feel horrible forever.
My much older male doctor didn't flinch at my tears. He just started asking me about my life. He asked me if I was working outside the home. I told him I stay home with my little ladies. He asked me if I would be happier if I worked somewhere else. My reply was that I didn't want to leave my girls each day. At that moment he asked me something I never expected to be asked. He asked me if maybe I should be working. Is it possible that by staying home, I was making myself miserable? He told me he thought I was depressed. He suggested several ways I could try to improve my situation. He was concerned about Husband's schedule (he has been traveling from Tues to Thurs night most weeks). Finally he concluded that I needed to get more time to take care of myself. However I decided to do that was my decision.
He also recommended an anti-depressant. In that moment I was willing to try anything. He cautioned me to to expect too much too quickly. The meds would take some time to work. We scheduled another appointment for a month later and I went on my way. I took my first dose that day. I figured that I may as well get this show on the road. It was a Thursday. By Saturday I was noticing that I had more energy. I had a couple of side effects, but I felt better. By the following week, I was really noticing a huge difference. My coffee intake dropped dramatically. I was able to sleep better. I didn't have to convince myself to get up and take care of my girls each morning. I started thinking about what would be helpful to me.
I thought I would start a journal. After thinking about it some more, I decided I would write a blog about my experiences. I don't expect this to help other people. It truly is therapy to me. I also love books. Thus, this blog was born. I also started a project or two around the house.
I go back to my doctor tomorrow. I can't wait for him to see how much better I feel. I am enjoying myself for the first time since Panda Girl was born. I am able to see humor in everyday life again. Each setback is not the end of the world. The sky is no longer falling. My only regret is that I suffered for so long. Truly it took about a year of misery for me to give up and seek help. If I can reach only one person who is soldiering through in silence and convince her to get help, then I will feel as if my pain has not been in vain.
The book's early chapters outline Brooke's struggle with infertility. Evidently fertility treatments can make some women more susceptible to postpartum depression. She also explains both the physical and emotional pain of a miscarriage. It seems once she conceives her daughter Rowan the pregnancy is uneventful. She feels well and strong. She takes good care of herself. In short, she did everything right.
The month leading up to delivery she experiences a highly personal loss. The delivery also does not go well. She has major complications. As a celebrity she also has privacy issues in the hospital. Once she finally gets home, everything starts to fall apart. The rest of the book chronicles her realization that she needs help and what she does to cope with the disease. At the end she summarizes the decisions she made which were helpful and those which were detrimental to her recovery.
Overall I enjoyed her memoir. It was an easy read and was relatively well written. She was encouraging and honest. I truly appreciate her coming forward to help erase any stigma associated with this disease.
While reading, it was comforting to know someone else had been in a similar situation and had come out the other side healthy and strong. In some ways her depression was more obvious to those around her since its onset was immediately after delivery. Postpartum depression can come on any time in the first year after the baby's birth. Mine didn't hit until three to four months postpartum. Mine was also more gradual. One day was hard. Then the next was not bad. Then the next couple of days were tough. Pretty soon all the days were tough and I did not even see how unhappy I had become. After about four months I reached a breaking point and knew something was off. I couldn't really put my finger on the problem, but I knew something had to change.
So, I started exercising. Usually this is a good idea for women struggling with depression. Sadly, it didn't really help in my case. This is mostly because the exercise caused me to lose my milk supply. The reduction in my milk supply caused my breastfed baby to wake more frequently in the night. Poor Panda Girl was hungry. At this point she was eight months old and had never tasted formula. I tried to feed her some to supplement and she hated it. I started to eat more to make up for the calories I was burning working out. Instead of increasing my dwindling milk supply, the eating caused me to gain weight. In the meantime I am sure my hormones were probably all over the place. I also have thyroid disease and I am sure it played a role in my struggle. At this time Sweet Pea, my very stubborn child, was refusing to potty train. So there I was with two kids in diapers, up several times a night and I had no real break to take care of myself on a regular basis. I was exhausted. I was uninterested. I was mad as a hornet at my situation.
I was able to wean Panda Girl when she was eleven months. Thankfully she loves whole milk. The first night she had a bottle of whole milk she slept through the night and never looked back. That same week Sweet Pea finally consented to being potty trained. At that point we were headed in the right direction. I was sure I would start to feel better soon. I started exercising more, hoping that would hasten my recovery. Nothing seemed to work. I still longed to crawl into bed all day, every day.
Once I realized how tired I really was, I was certain my problem had its root in my thyroid issues. One of the biggest symptoms of Hashimoto's Disease is fatigue. My endocrinologist's appointment was just a couple of months away, I decided to just solider on until then. That was a decision I would live to regret. My appointment finally arrived the first week of August. I had dutifully had all my blood work done prior to the day I was seeing my doctor. I wanted the appointment to be productive, not one riddled with theories. I walked in to talk to my doctor and he reviewed the symptoms I had listed to the nurse that I was experiencing. He looked at my blood work and it looked perfect. There was nothing more that could be done with my thyroid. The levels were at just the right points. In that moment, I started to cry. I could no longer explain away my symptoms. I worried that I was destined to feel horrible forever.
My much older male doctor didn't flinch at my tears. He just started asking me about my life. He asked me if I was working outside the home. I told him I stay home with my little ladies. He asked me if I would be happier if I worked somewhere else. My reply was that I didn't want to leave my girls each day. At that moment he asked me something I never expected to be asked. He asked me if maybe I should be working. Is it possible that by staying home, I was making myself miserable? He told me he thought I was depressed. He suggested several ways I could try to improve my situation. He was concerned about Husband's schedule (he has been traveling from Tues to Thurs night most weeks). Finally he concluded that I needed to get more time to take care of myself. However I decided to do that was my decision.
He also recommended an anti-depressant. In that moment I was willing to try anything. He cautioned me to to expect too much too quickly. The meds would take some time to work. We scheduled another appointment for a month later and I went on my way. I took my first dose that day. I figured that I may as well get this show on the road. It was a Thursday. By Saturday I was noticing that I had more energy. I had a couple of side effects, but I felt better. By the following week, I was really noticing a huge difference. My coffee intake dropped dramatically. I was able to sleep better. I didn't have to convince myself to get up and take care of my girls each morning. I started thinking about what would be helpful to me.
I thought I would start a journal. After thinking about it some more, I decided I would write a blog about my experiences. I don't expect this to help other people. It truly is therapy to me. I also love books. Thus, this blog was born. I also started a project or two around the house.
I go back to my doctor tomorrow. I can't wait for him to see how much better I feel. I am enjoying myself for the first time since Panda Girl was born. I am able to see humor in everyday life again. Each setback is not the end of the world. The sky is no longer falling. My only regret is that I suffered for so long. Truly it took about a year of misery for me to give up and seek help. If I can reach only one person who is soldiering through in silence and convince her to get help, then I will feel as if my pain has not been in vain.
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