How Do You Know That Pleasure Is Good And Pain Is Bad?

We’re biologically wired to avoid pain and seek pleasure. But is it really a no-brainer which one we should choose?

It’s our most fundamental instinct as human beings to try to protect ourselves from experiencing pain. And it’s only natural as pain is always… well, unpleasant and pleasure is obviously enjoyable.

It goes against our nature to intentionally choose pain. Especially if we had the option to choose between pleasure and pain.

But is pleasure always the better option?

And in general, how do we really know that pleasure is good and pain is bad?

Pain is…

Pain is when you give natural birth to a baby and feel your flesh ripped apart by a tiny person’s not so tiny head. But isn’t that pain totally worth it? Is that pain bad?

Pleasure is…

Pleasure is when you enjoy a passionate night of sensual sex with the now married with children love of your life, with whom you reconnected after years of living apart. But is that pleasure worth it? Is that pleasure good?

Pain is…

Pain is when you struggle to feed your children by working two jobs and feel totally overwhelmed and emotionally and physically exhausted. But isn’t that pain totally worth it? Is that pain bad?

Pleasure is…

Pleasure is when you’ve finally been promoted after taking credit for a project that your colleague came up with but was too self-critical to share with the management. But you recognized the value of the idea and as a result you now have a larger paycheck and a richer social package. But is that pleasure really worth it? Is that pleasure good?

We don’t live in a binary world. Few things are black and white. There are so many nuances in our daily lives that it’s not so easy to draw the line and label something as categorically good or bad. It is not so easy to categorize an experience or a sensation as pleasurable or painful.

Moral dilemmas make it harder for us to just enjoy stuff without consequences. The promise of meaningful future makes it easier for us to perceive painful sensations as a necessary step toward a more complete and fulfilling life.

But the tricky part is that in many gray-ish situations, it’s not always easy to conclude whether something or someone is good or bad. Whether some pleasure is worth it or some pain will lead to great things or not.

When you intentionally choose to be a bad person…

Last October I quit my corporate job. I had recently been promoted and became the youngest senior professional in my department within the entire organization globally.

But my heart was not at all in what I was doing. I got no sense of fulfillment from what I did every single day.

I had earned recognition and all kinds of benefits at the expense of my physical and emotional health.

I had suffered a miscarriage.

The following year I burned out and my brain literally stopped working.

I started getting spontaneous bruises all over my body.

My gums were bleeding to the point of not being able to eat a banana.

I had put all my energy and efforts into succeeding in something that I thought would bring meaning, fulfillment, and satisfaction to my life. But it did the opposite.

Was my promotion a good or a bad thing?

Was the higher standard I achieved by getting a bigger salary worth it?

I could afford to travel more, to buy more stuff, to enjoy more expensive experiences. But was that pleasure good?

It was not. Not to me.

I was miserable. I hit rock bottom. I felt empty. Unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. I felt my talents were wasted. I felt my hard work was pointless. I felt like I was wasting my life in doing something that I don’t care about. Not because there was a problem with what I did. Because what I did was just not what I was meant to do.

So I decided to leave. But it wasn’t black and white.

I got to the point where I had to tell my managers —people I deeply respected, was grateful to, and appreciated as mentors and even friends that I’m jumping ship. And I hated myself for having to disappoint them.

And then I really did disappoint them for real.

I gave my letter of resignation but failed to wrap up my work.

For the first time in my life I left my job incomplete. Not because I didn’t care about it anymore or because I didn’t want to complete whatever was left for me to do.

Because I couldn’t.

Whenever I’d try to do things I had done thousands of times during the past three years, I’d get a panic attack. I had to go to the restroom 5 times a day just so I can calm myself down, stop shaking, and catch my breath.

I’d wake up in the middle of the night and find it hard to catch my breath all over again. I’d go to work crying. I’d feel suffocated whenever I tried to go about any task.

I had no fucking idea what the fuck was happening to me but I knew I was feeling like a fucking failure, like a fucking disappointment, like a fucking disgrace, like a fucking loser, like a fucking worthless piece of shit.

And I couldn’t admit that I needed help. I couldn’t communicate that I felt trapped. I was ashamed. Humiliated. Broken.

I dropped my projects.

Not because I didn’t care. Because I was terrified that I was losing my mind.

My aunt has schizophrenia. I know it runs in my family. I know my aunt suffered horrible emotional trauma that triggered her mental health disease. She hasn’t been a fully functioning individual since her twenties. She’s now over 50. I was not ready to risk murdering my mind in exchange for fulfilling my last duties at work. The opportunity cost was disappointing people I cared more about than I had cared about most of the people I’d met in my life.

I chose being the bad guy. I chose being a failure, a disgrace, a loser.

And it hurt more than even my miscarriage did.

But was what I did really bad?

Was the pain I caused both myself and the people I disappointed really that horrible?

I guess the answer can go both ways. It’s in the eye of the beholder.

A year later, I’m finally fighting the right battles for the right reasons. And I have never felt more alive, more self-aware, more in sync with who I am and what I want in my life.

And if the bad thing that I did and the pain I experienced were the price I had to pay to get to where I am today emotionally, psychologically, and mindfully, I’d do it in a heartbeat. All over again.

Does that make me a bad person?

You tell me.