The 10 Benefits of a Broken Heart

Why pain and suffering can be your best friend

My heart is broken tonight.

I had to leave my wife alone in the hospital ward to go home and look after my children. I promised that I would be back as soon as I could. But she said she didn’t want to be left alone while feeling so sick.

As I said goodbye to her, the tears started rolling down her cheeks

But only for a second.

They burned.

Literally.

So, she forced herself to stop.

That’s one of the side effects of chemotherapy — extreme sensitivity to cold and hot things. Touching a metal handrail is agony for her. Cold bathroom tiles might as well be broken glass under her feet. Drinking cold water feels like daggers inside her esophagus. And tears… well, they burn like hot mercury.

And so she stops as soon as she starts. But she pleads with her drying eyes for me to help somehow… to do something.

What am I supposed to say to her now?

I am torn in two directions.

But, I do what I need to do and promise I will be back once I’ve attended to our children, who are largely fending for themselves and being shuffled between various friends and relatives. They have become unintentional casualties of this battle.

And I am divided — my attention torn between her battle and our children’s needs.

That’s why my heart is broken tonight.

A moment to pause

So here I am.

It’s late at night, and visiting hours at the hospital are over. The children are all tucked up in bed with a kiss, and a prayer, and the promise that Mommy will be home soon.

Maybe.

As I sit here at my desk, the soft glow of a single lamp casting a pool of light in the darkness, I find a moment of respite. The weight of the past few days has settled into my bones, and the stillness feels both welcome and jarring. To my left, a small nightcap sits untouched, patiently waiting as I gather my thoughts. I will nurse it along as I write this blog post.

I realize that in this space, I don’t have to mask my feelings or search for a silver lining. The rawness of the situation is enough, and I allow myself to feel the weight of it all without reservation.

I shed my tears.

I have the liberty to shed tears without the tears themselves causing more pain, which doesn’t seem fair.

None of this seems fair.

I allow myself this moment to grieve and to feel what I feel without judging what I feel. The vibration of my phone punctuates the moment. It’s another message of support from another concerned friend.

It’s nice to get these messages.

Somehow, through these messages, I find comfort in the knowledge that we’re all navigating our own versions of this journey. Life is hard…. for everyone. Yet even amid this heartache, the student in me seeks out the lessons that lie within this truism, and the eternal optimist searches for reason and meaning. Perhaps it is the whiskey speaking to me, but as I sit and listen to that still small voice, I discover that a broken heart brings with it certain gifts.

I can name ten.

1. A broken heart brings the gift of empathy

What the hell do you have to say to a suffering person when you, yourself, haven’t suffered?

Sweet nothing.

But your own pain qualifies you to speak into the pain of others. When your heart shatters into a million pieces, you suddenly find an incredible ability to relate to others who are going through their own struggles. Suffering is the beginning of empathy.

And when empathy becomes second nature, you learn to listen to others without judgment. This sharing of pain creates a unique bond between human beings — one that says, “What? You as well?” even if their situation differs from yours.

2. A broken heart brings the gift of resilience:

I keep telling my wife she is brave.

She keeps dismissing this praise by saying, “I’m not brave. I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

She doesn’t seem to see yet that what needs to be done requires an amount of determination and strength that she has never had to call on before. In fact, she may not have ever known it was there, save for this interruption to our well-planned life. Cancer brought out the bravery in her.

In the same way, a broken heart can reveal an inner strength you may not have recognized before and prove that you possess the fortitude to endure challenges beyond what you thought possible.

3. A broken heart brings the gift of true friendship

In times of hardship, you quickly learn who your real friends are. Some may step back, uncomfortable with your pain, while others step forward, offering support and love in ways you never anticipated. These are the friends who become your lifelines — your pillars of strength.

We’ve been fortunate to witness the unwavering support of friends and especially family, who have rallied around us during this time. They’ve cooked meals, offered shoulders to lean on, and provided unwavering emotional support. Their actions have spoken louder than words ever could.

4. A broken heart brings the gift of transformation

A broken heart, though painful, carries within it the seeds of transformation and renewal. It offers an opportunity for a fresh start, a chance to rewrite the narrative of your life.

My wife has decided that if she is ever well enough to return to work, she’d like to try her hand at something she’s always wanted to do but never had the gumption to try. She wants to offer pro-bono legal aid to people who can’t afford it but need legal representation.

That’s what a broken heart does.

When faced with heartbreak, we reassess and reevaluate. The pain acts as a catalyst for introspection, prompting us to consider what truly matters. In this process, we find the courage to shed our old skin and step into a new one.

5. A broken heart brings the gift of creativity

In the depths of heartache, something remarkable happens. It’s as if the pain, raw and unfiltered, becomes a wellspring of inspiration. Artists have known this secret for centuries. Great pain inspires great art.

Not only does great pain give rise to great art, but it also gives an outlet for that pain.

A lot of people have thanked me for writing about my wife’s cancer journey, and I appreciate that. But they do not realize that I also write for myself — It’s my way of processing my thoughts and emotions. For me, writing serves as a release valve. The pain isn’t erased in the act of writing, but it’s transformed. It becomes something more, something beautiful, something helpful to others.

6. A broken heart brings the gift of presence

A broken heart grounds you in the present moment. It reminds you that dwelling on the past leads to sorrow, and fixating on the future breeds anxiety. The only safe haven is in the here and now.

Therefore, the gift of being present becomes an oasis of sorts, a place where the waves of emotion find a momentary stillness. It’s a refuge from the storm — a space where you can simply be without worry or regret.

In the realm of spirituality, this presence takes on an even more profound significance. It’s a reminder that the divine, the essence of God, is not located in the distant reaches of time or space alone. Instead, he is the “I am” that permeates the very fabric of this present moment.

He is the great eternal now.

7. A broken heart brings the gift of perspective

Adversity has a way of stripping away the excess, leaving behind a laser focus on what truly matters. A broken heart invites you to reevaluate your priorities, highlighting the importance of relationships and experiences over money and stuff.

When you find yourself with Stage 4 Cancer, you come to understand that no amount of wealth can fix the pain.

What matters now is the moments spent with family and friends, the shared laughter and quiet conversations that hold immeasurable worth. The truth is, it’s the relationships we build and nurture that sustain us through the darkest hours, not money or possessions.

You can’t take it with you. You might as well throw caution to the wind.

8. A broken heart brings the gift of self-compassion

I’ll admit it.

I am physically and emotionally spent. I was at the end of my rope weeks ago, and I know I’ve lost control of my emotions a few times where I shouldn't have.

But that’s okay.

I’m doing my best.

Usually, I am my worst critic. But, in the face of heartbreak, you learn to be kinder to yourself. You realize that you’re doing what you can and that it’s okay to ask for help or take a moment to rest. Self-compassion becomes a lifeline, allowing you to navigate the storm with grace and gentleness.

9. A broken heart brings the gift of courage

You know, it’s funny how heartbreak can sometimes be the push we need to step into the unknown. It’s like life saying, “Alright, it’s time to shake things up a bit.” Suddenly, you’re out of your comfort zone and taking risks you never thought you’d take.

And sure, often, that courage is forced to step up from within you despite its reluctance. But, here’s the thing about this kind of courage — it’s not about being fearless. It’s about acknowledging the fear, feeling it in your bones, and then taking that step anyway. It’s about realizing life’s greatest adventures, and life’s greatest lessons always seem to happen outside of our comfort zones.

Just imagine all the things you might have done if you had had the courage to say to yourself, “What the hell, let’s do it!”

10. A broken heart brings the gift of reality

Let me ask you something. Do you know the names of your great, great-grandparents?

95% of people do not.

What does that tell you?

Not only are you doing to die, but within two generations, no one is going to know you ever existed — unless you happen to be in the 0.0001% of exception people who are remembered in perpetuity.

But unless you’re Beethoven or Einstein, that’s not you.

So, yes, a broken heart can be a harsh wake-up call. It can pull back the curtains on the sometimes uncomfortable realities of our existence. But in doing so, it also opens the door to a more authentic, more vibrant way of living. It’s a paradox, really. Only by acknowledging the finite nature of life can we truly enjoy its infinite beauty.

The last word

My whiskey is done.

And I’m about to close my laptop and switch off the lamp.

I need to find strength for tomorrow in the safety of the night world.

Tomorrow, after I take the kids to school, I go back to the hospital and try again to be the kind of supportive presence that I would want by my side if I were in the bed.

But tomorrow I’m taking a gift…. the gift of a broken heart.

Good night.

The Backyard Church is not just a blog. It’s a real online community for people who have faith but can’t, don’t, or won’t go to church. Join today.

Dan Foster is the author of “Leaving Church, Finding God: Discovering Faith Beyond Organized Religion.”

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