bhaskar saikia

We are very good at counting our hurts.

We remember who wronged us, how many times we were overlooked, how deeply a word cut, how unfair a moment felt. We archive pain carefully, almost reverently, as if one day it will testify on our behalf and prove that we were right to feel broken.

But pain, when merely counted, does nothing.

It does not heal us.
It does not make us wiser.
It does not move us forward.

Counting hurts is like counting scars without remembering how we survived the wound.

What truly matters is not how much you were hurt, but what the hurt taught you.

Lessons don’t weigh you down the way hurt does.

A wound says: “This broke me.”
A lesson says: “This shaped me.”

Lessons teach boundaries where pain once flowed freely.
They teach discernment where trust was blind.
They teach patience, humility, resilience—sometimes tenderness.

When you remember the lesson instead of the hurt, something shifts. You stop asking, “Why did this happen to me?” and begin asking, “Who did this make me?”

And that question has answers that can actually serve you.