I hate it when people tell me ‘Everything happens for a reason’. Tell that to the Baby Tshepang who was raped in the early-2000s and will be a preteen this year. Tell that to the child who’s beaten by his father everyday, who sees his dad pummel his mom. Tell that to the mother who lost her daughter, her son to drugs, to suicide, to gang violence, to murder. Telling people who’ve experienced terrible, life/soul destroying things that ‘everything happens for a reason’ is a terrible, terrible thing. It’s a useless platitude, a plaster over a gunshot wound – it’s empty; it’s condescending.
BUT I believe you can find a reason in everything that happens to you. And maybe that’s what we mean by the platitude. We can find a meaning in the terrible things that happen to us, find a way to cope with it, find…something in the darkness. But that doesn’t mean terrible things happen for a reason. Terrible things happen. And that’s just all there is: they happen. What comes next, is up to us. But don’t try make the bad things better, don’t try to polish a turd with glitter.
< / end thought splurge >