Last week, I had an incredibly mild stomach bug. It sucked — I didn’t eat for a day, and it totally threw me off my schedule as I missed assignments and commitments. I felt sad and lonely and totally anxious. As a long-time emetophobic, the possibility of throwing up tortured me. 

This week, my boyfriend got sick. Super, super, super sick. Whether he caught it from me or even has the same thing as I did is unclear, but I’ve spent the last 48 hours obsessively Googling how disease works, torn up over his condition and terrified I was about to fall ill yet again.
It felt like a cruel joke from the universe, like it was trying to teach me some sort of lesson, though I wasn’t certain of the specifics. That bad things will always happen, so don’t get too comfortable? That the universe is always going to try and keep me and my boyfriend apart? That my fear of throwing up is ridiculous and holding me back? I was convinced that I had to figure out what the lesson was, predict how this chain of events was going to turn out and therefore protect myself from shock. My therapist nodded patiently on the other side of a Zoom call as I rambled about my intense desire to figure out why all of this was happening. 

Now, this attitude may partially be a symptom of my OCD tendencies, or a remnant of a Catholic upbringing. But there is a common refrain in our society to soothe people through hard times — everything happens for a reason. Through loss, through ailing, through catastrophe, we are supposed to find solace in some greater universal intention. This is what all religions and spirituality are built on — that there is some force out there doling out events. In every story we hear on TV or read in books, an author has chosen each occurrence and how to present it in a way that best fits the theme. Even the idea of some sort of karma, that bad things happen to people who do bad things or a string of shitty luck is the inevitable outcome of a streak of good fortune, is built on this idea of universal balance and reason. 

But is this really true? Are we faced with challenges specially designed to shape the plot of our lives and teach us something? Is there any sense of reason to anything, or are we mere victims of a randomized universe, desperately beating our heads against a wall to believe in something?

First, let’s start with the benefits and the evidence in favor. In many ways, it would be reassuring to know that some force somewhere is pulling the strings. This implies some sort of cosmic order, and, for many, the fleeting promise that we could somehow harness that order and control it. Pray hard enough, knock on wood, do good deeds and have goodness come back in return. Manifest, write lists, light candles, go to church, never wear that shirt again because the last time you wore it someone died. If some great power exists in the universe, then we, too, must have some level of that power, a way to appease the authority and have things turn out in our favor. 

Plus, what about all the stories? Events and synergies that are just too good to be coincidences? The people who stayed home from work with the flu but would’ve been in one of the Twin Towers on 9/11? The job you got at random that led you to meeting your husband? My mother often tells the story of house hunting and, after another dissatisfying tour, pointing at the home across the street and saying “I want one like that.” Little did she know that house had actually just gone on the market, and my parents got it before there was even a sign in the yard. 

Surely the universe must’ve been pulling some strings, right? 

My parents struggled with infertility for seven years before having me — an awful, difficult experience that cost thousands of dollars and their mental health. But if they had a baby when they wanted to, it wouldn’t have been me, and I never would’ve existed, so surely some greater power had a hand in all this? Their suffering was worth it because it was just what needed to happen to make me, right? 

If there is a universal system of reason, then good things are in store for good people and periods of suffering will be rewarded with blessings. It is a comfort that keeps us persevering. Now let’s look at the flip side. 

When my roommate was in middle school, her mother was diagnosed with cancer. Someone in their church community said to her that God was just testing her family, intending to offer some sort of reason to the struggle. What an evil thing to say to a child. 

If everything happens for a reason, then why do people die in tragic, freak accidents on the day of their wedding? If we are rewarded based on our inherent goodness, then why would children get molested and rapists become world leaders? 

There is a reason for everything that happens, sure. Cells multiply, chemical reactions occur, someone is born to a family because they were born and they were born and they were born. There are consequences — our overconsumption cripples the poor and destroys our environment. There are reasons to be good — a neighbor will remember when you shoveled their sidewalk and bring you soup when you’re sick. Difficult things happen, and we learn lessons from them not because they were meant to teach us a lesson, but because people are inherently trying to grow. Sometimes, things aren’t fair, and we suffer under the hands of the powerful. Sometimes, things are fair, and your childhood bully reaches out apologizing years later. 

The true power we have is to decide how we’ll grow from the things that happen to us and do our best to make the world better within our actual ability. There’s nothing wrong with believing in a greater power, a god to turn to in times of despair and isolation. Without faith, we’d all just crumble under the weight of our hopelessness. But perhaps that greater power we have so much faith in was ourselves all along. Faith in ourselves to be strong in times of adversity, persist through evil and lift each other up.