Edith Eger #4: Pain is universal. Suffering is optional
Freedom begins not with asking “Why me?” but with a more courageous question: “What now?”
Reminder: This is article #4 on my special series about Edith Eger. Check previous posts if you want to know the whole story.
Edith was haunted by one terrible moment that played over and over in her mind: when Dr. Mengele asked about her relationship to her mother, she had told the truth—"mother." This honest answer sealed her mother's fate, sending her straight to the gas chambers. The guilt was crushing. "Maybe if I had said 'sister' instead," she repeat again and again to herself, "she might have lived." This single though—"maybe if I…"—became a source of painful self-blame that would stay with her for years.
After surviving the Holocaust and witnessing her parents disappear into the gas chambers, Edith faced what she would later describe as her most formidable challenge: not the physical horrors of the concentration camp itself, but the devastating psychological aftermath that followed liberation.
Edith's emaciated body, weighing a mere 32 kilograms (70 pounds), told only part of her story. Her broken back, typhoid fever, pneumonia, and pleurisy were the visible wounds — very painful reminders of her experiences. But beneath the surface lay deeper, more insidious injuries that no medical intervention could easily address.
While the world celebrated freedom, Edith found herself trapped in a different kind of prison—one constructed from grief, trauma, and the crushing weight of survivor's guilt that would define her struggle for decades to come.
Looking forward to a new life away and and escape from Europe, Edith and her husband Bela immigrated to the United States in 1949. Unfortunately, she discovered that geographical distance provided no escape from her internal torment.
It was this profound struggle with the psychological aftermath of surviving Auschwitz that ultimately inspired her to pursue psychology—initially as a means of understanding her own suffering, and eventually as a path to helping others.
In that period, Edith learned about a concept that helped her change her relationship with the past and enable a better future: the crucial distinction between pain and suffering.
Pain is unavoidable. Suffering is optional
Have you ever heard the Two Arrows teaching in Buddhism? It’s a metaphor in Buddhism that teaches us that life shoots two arrows at us.
The first arrow is unavoidable. It represents the initial experience of a painful event — let it be physical, emotional, or mental. Examples include a losing a loved one, a breakup, or any difficult situation.
The second arrow, however, is the suffering that arises from our response to the first arrow. It often involves dwelling on the negative experience, judging ourselves harshly, or engaging in negative self-talk. This can include self-blame, regret, anger, or dwelling on "what if" scenarios.
While the first arrow is an unavoidable aspect of life, the second arrow, our negative self-blame, self-criticism, or prolonged suffering, is optional.
For Edith, her first arrow was the Nazi persecution, losing her parents, the impossible choice with Dr. Mengele, and the physical horrors of Auschwitz. Her second arrow was three decades of self-blame, guilt or culprit mentality, creating a mental concentration camp more confining than Auschwitz itself.
And that’s one of the most important message Edith has for all of us:
Suffering is universal. But victimhood is optional. There is a difference between victimization and victimhood. We are all likely to be victimized in some way in the course of our lives. At some point we will suffer some kind of affliction or calamity or abuse, caused by circumstances or people or institutions over which we have little or no control. This is life. And this is victimization. It comes from outside.
In contrast, victimhood comes from the inside. No one can make you a victim but you. We become victims not because of what happens to us but when we choose to hold on to our victimization. We develop a victim's mind – a way of thinking and being that is rigid, blaming, pessimistic, stuck in the past, unforgiving, punitive, and without healthy limits or boundaries.
We become our own jailors when we choose the confines of the victim's mind.
What Edith endured was unspeakably unjust and horrific. Yet in circumstances where most would surrender to despair, she persevered. Though victimized, she refused victimhood. She recognized her inalienable power: the ability to assign meaning to her experiences.
Just think about anything that happens to you in your life. If you look examine it closely enough, you’ll realize you either have been a victim — by choice or not.
An important note: Edith's framework isn't about minimizing trauma or blaming those who've been victimized. Rather, it's about recognizing our power to interpret our suffering. As she emphasizes, she's not suggesting we shouldn't have feelings or that trauma doesn't matter. Her insight is more nuanced: sometimes our most painful experiences are not what initially happened to us, but the additional suffering we inflict on ourselves afterward.
We cannot choose to have a life free of hurt. But we can choose to be free, to escape the past, no matter what befalls us, and to embrace the possible.
Her message resonates because it offers hope grounded in lived experience: no matter what has happened to us, we retain the power to choose our response and find meaning in our suffering. "We can choose to be our own jailors, or we can choose to be free," as Edith likes to say.
No matter what has happened to us, we retain the power to choose our response and find meaning in our suffering, making it less painful.
Survivors don’t ask ‘Why me?’ Survivors ask ‘What now?’
As a consequence of Edith’s idea that that while pain is unavoidable suffering is not, is that sometimes we choose to be our own jailors. We do it because we feel safer and more secure, and we don’t have to face our own demons or deal with the uncertainty of knowing what might happen if we tried. We keep stuck on the past, instead of focusing on the now with the goal of creating the future we really want.
When I ask, ‘What now?’ instead of ‘Why me?’, I stop focusing on why this bad thing happened and start paying attention to what I can do with my experience.
Edith’s story is the ultimate proof of this mindset. After surviving Auschwitz, death marches, starvation, and unimaginable cruelty, she could have spent her life blaming others or searching for reasons behind her suffering. But Edith learned that asking “Why me?” leads only to blame and paralysis, while “What now?” opens the door to healing, action, and hope.
This shift in perspective is not about denying pain or injustice. It’s about reclaiming your power to choose your response, even when you can’t change your circumstances. Like the parable of the man shot with a poisoned arrow who refuses treatment until he gets all the answers, we destroy our potential when we deny our power of choice.
Asking ‘What now?’ instead of ‘Why me?’ is the first step on escaping from victimhood. Just face whatever you’re experiencing with a subtle attitude. It does not mean you have to love what’s happening. But when you stop fighting about things you can’t control, you have more energy and imagination to ask ‘What now?’. To move forward, instead of staying quiet. To discover what you want and what life awaits for you.
Personally, this is one of my favorite lessons from Edith Eger. It’s simple, yet powerful—a lesson that offers real hope to anyone seeking to move forward after hardship.
Tips to Break Free (Inspired by Edith Eger)
At 97, Edith Eger continues to help others escape what she calls “the concentration camp of their own mind.” Her wisdom is a reminder that the path to freedom begins not with asking “Why me?” but with the courageous question, “What now?”
Give yourself permission to feel: Edith doesn’t try to cheer up her depressed patients; instead, she encourages them to give their despair “company.” Practice the mantra: notice, accept, check, and stay. When difficult emotions arise, acknowledge them, accept them, check your body’s response, and stay with the feeling until it passes.
Express, don’t repress: “Expression is the opposite of depression.” Hiding your truths and stories only deepens your pain. Try writing about your deepest feelings for 20 minutes daily, letting painful recollections surface without judgment.
Change your vocabulary: Before you can change your behavior, change how you describe it. Instead of “I always do this” or “I can’t do that,” say “Up until now, I’ve done this” or “In the past, I was this way.” This simple shift opens the door to new possibilities.
Choose your response: You can’t change what happened to you, but you can always choose how you live now. This choice—between being your own jailor or choosing freedom—is available in every moment.
In our next post, we'll discover how Edith Eger's learned that emotions are not obstacles to overcome—they are powerful allies in your journey toward a more fulfilling and authentic life. As Edith loves to say: “You can’t heal what you don’t feel.”
To learn more about Dr. Edith Eger's extraordinary journey, you can check my previous posts, read her powerful memoir "The Choice" and "The Gift," or listen to her interviews on various podcasts where she continues to share her wisdom about healing, hope, and human resilience.
Extremely powerful, such a courageous woman.
Incredibly powerful story. Situations like this also breed survivors’s guilt. Those of us that have seen friends die of terrible diseases, or have been in combat and have had buddies die, know the feeling that it should’ve been me instead of my buddy.