Everyone Has Something
Whenever someone tries to make me feel better about something going on in my life by saying that “everyone has something,” I picture a comic I first encountered when I was getting my Master’s in education:
There are a variety of animals lined up in front of a human sitting behind a desk. He tells them, “For a fair selection everybody has to take the same exam: Please climb that tree.”
When I saw that comic in school, the professor urged everyone to look at every animal and think about the test from their perspective. Sure, the overall meaning of “equality doesn’t necessarily mean fairness” shines through at a first glance, but it was an interesting thought exercise to really, truly think about what the test meant for each animal.
The monkey, needless to say, is smiling at the thought of an easy test. The bird looks happy too. But the dog looks confused, the seal looks concerned, the penguin looks a little desperate, and the elephant looks flabbergasted. Not to mention the fish, who has no chance of success no matter how hard he tries - and he knows it.
I picture this in every not-so-uncommon occurrence when I confess a fear or worry of mine to someone else, only to be told that “everyone has something.” I know it’s meant to be a comforting phrase, trying to convey understanding, but I don’t see it that way at all.
I think, when people say “everyone has something,” they mean to say that everyone has their own challenges and you shouldn’t feel like you’re the only one in the world who has to deal with them. But when I seek advice and get this as a response, I feel trivialized.
It sounds, to me, like the person giving this advice is telling me that my problems are small and everyone deals with problems like these every day, and that I should just put on my big girl panties and move on. But as someone whose brain can literally freeze in what my therapist describes as a trauma state from something as simple as unexpectedly having to try a new food or having an everyday experience that reminds me of something in the past, I highly doubt that “everyone” is having the same experience.
When I hear the phrase, I feel like the person is telling me that they don’t see what I’m experiencing as a valid problem. Maybe they’re like the monkey in the cartoon, who can climb the tree in a few seconds and probably climbs trees every day without giving it a second thought. But the problem is, they’re assuming that because “everybody” is the same, I am the monkey too.
The thing is, anyone could be any animal at any time. It might feel, to me, like I’m an elephant who may be able to technically “climb” the tree by standing on my hind legs, but in a way that might potentially be painful or have long-lasting repercussions. I could be the dog, who might be able to jump up branches or use problem-solving to get around the issue but hasn’t figured it out yet. Or I might be the fish, as there are some “easy” things I will never do as they would cause me huge anxiety for no reason at all.
I think about this comic when I remember how my best friend from college, who has social anxiety, got so panicked about turning in a form to add a minor to his college diploma that he never did it, even though he had all the credits and just needed to put a piece of paper on the registrar’s desk.
I think about it when I remember the time I hosted two friends, a mother and daughter, for a large Pokemon Go event. They were very excited to go to the zoo, but when the daughter saw a seagull perched by the entrance of the zoo, she started to melt down and panic, and her mother and I steered her away and back on the bus.
Neither of those events would have scared me at all. But when Nana wanted to have her 90th birthday at a Persian restaurant, my first reaction was raw fear. “It’s just a tiny needle” or “one bite won’t kill you” or “just get over that thing that happened so long ago” might seem like such a simple and easy reaction to have when people see me being afraid for seemingly no reason, but it’s no different than missing out on a college minor or a fun day at the zoo.
Everyone does have their own “things.” But when they’re minimized as “things” or one of my least favorite descriptors, “quirks,” people fail to understand that they are real and often shame-provoking moments that are incredibly hard to deal with, and being told that everyone does those things is both inaccurate (as not “everyone” has the same specific fears, triggers, and behaviors) and trivializing feelings in the moment.
I couldn’t understand why my best friend couldn’t turn in his registration paper even though at the time it seemed so easy to just walk into the building and hand over the paper like I’d done the year before for my second major. In the absence of true understanding, which is nearly impossible to achieve without being in the other person’s head, compassion is the next best bet. Our college has very amazing homemade ice cream, and I suggested we get some cones and talk about something else.
Years later, he told me that he appreciated me not pushing him or telling him that everyone gets anxious. My friend’s mom said a similar thing, saying she was pleasantly surprised that I didn’t try to convince her daughter to ignore the seagull and go into the zoo.
Neither of them needed to hear that other people had anxiety. They needed their own unique behavior and fear to be respected. It didn’t matter how many other people have that exact behavior or fear, or if they’re somehow the only one in the world. What mattered was that, in the moment, someone heard them, recognized that they were having a hard time, and treated them like a person instead of a statistic.
I’m not trying to say that I’m perfect at this. I’m sure there are loads of times I don’t even remember when I inadvertently made something worse for someone by not really listening to what they needed. But as someone who has been on the receiving end of the “everyone has something” remark many times, I try to think of what I need in those moments, and if I can, give it to others.
No one ever really knows if their friend or loved one is the monkey or the penguin or the fish when facing a problem. It might be something you don’t even see as a problem. I never noticed the seagulls flying around the entrance to the zoo or how far the registrar’s desk was inside the office. And when I did, they didn’t bother me. I was the monkey, and climbing those trees was never a challenge. But I - and we all - have been each of the animals in the cartoon at different points in our lives, at different triggers and for different reasons, and we all deserve the same kindness.
Instead of saying “everyone has something,” inspire respect and tolerance, even without understanding, and the person who is currently experiencing their “something” will feel like they are not alone - the original intent of the remark.
Ellie, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.