Bittersweet

Someone once told me that the opposite of heartbreak is gratitude. I think they meant that you can lessen a burden of sadness by remembering the good things in your life, which is true. The thing they actually said isn’t.

In my post for last Thanksgiving, I attacked a wrongheaded way of viewing the world:

I think that people imagine that life is like a pair of scales. One the one side you pile everything good and wholesome and lucky, and, on the other, you have everything wrong and bad and dispiriting; then you see which scale drops and which rises; and if the heap of good things drops then you can be happy or satisfied or grateful; and if the heap of bad things drop then you’re unhappy, and rightfully so.

But good and bad don’t cancel each other out like this. If your beloved child has cancer, the cancer doesn’t cancel the preciousness of the child, and the preciousness of the child doesn’t cancel the malignancy of the cancer. The child is lovely, and the cancer is awful. The good and evil coexist, each at full force. They don’t add up to neutral.

Let’s take the argument one step further.

You will have sources of joy and sources of heartbreak in your life at the same time; for the most part, bittersweet is the rule. And, since good and bad don’t cancel each other out, you might have a lot of joy and a lot of heartbreak all at once.

Now, that person who told me gratitude is the opposite of heartbreak would probably recommend focusing on the positive. No doubt there are studies to say that that emphasis will make you happier, longer-lived, and better looking.

But this pop-psychology penchant for positivity misses an important dynamic.

If you don’t care about anything at all, you won’t experience joy or heartbreak. Care a little and you expose yourself to pleasure and, equally, to danger. Venture to care a lot and you might find yourself delirious with joy or flattened by heartbreak. Or both at once.

This is why gratitude can’t be the opposite of heartbreak. They are fruit of the same tree. If you care enough to be grateful for something in this life, then you care enough to suffer.

There’s still plenty of room for learning emphasizing the good, for coming to terms with the pain. I don’t mean to denigrate any of that. But a big capacity for gratitude doesn’t shield you from getting hurt. It probably means that you have an equally big capacity for pain.

The cliché teaches us that the true opposite of love isn’t hate, but apathy. Love and hate are ultimately too similar to be opposites. It is the same way with gratitude and heartbreak—they are too similar when it comes down to it.

For the most part, bittersweet is the rule. If things matter to you, you will meet heartbreak. That’s not shameful or pessimistic or foolish. No, I think it is a very brave thing to care. After all, if you don’t care enough to get hurt, how could you possibly care enough to be grateful?