When “You’ll Be Okay” Doesn’t Feel Okay

📘 When “You’ll Be Okay” Doesn’t Feel Okay
Find Happy Way | Episode 2
(Both the written and video versions are available — feel free to enjoy whichever you prefer!)

🎥👉 Watch on YouTube(https://youtu.be/OY8uzmPLlgc?si=ZK8MUUmUj-AnBICb)
 👇Or watch it right here 👇

🔖 A Well-Meant Comfort That Turned Into Pain

Welcome to The Path to Happiness.

Today, I’d like to share the second story in our series about how comfort — though well-intentioned — can sometimes turn into pain.

When we see someone going through a difficult time, we often say things like,

“I know it’s hard, but hang in there. Once you get through this, everything will be fine.”

Or,

“After a big struggle, smaller pains don’t even feel like pain anymore.

Based on my own experience, you’ll definitely laugh about this someday.”

These words sound comforting — and in many situations, they really are.

But are they always the right thing to say?

When someone is trapped in deep pain, they cling to that little hope, trying their best to endure.

Yet from my own experience, I learned that “enduring” doesn’t always lead to “healing.”

The pain I thought was over returned like an uninvited guest.

And when new pain piled on top of the old, even the little hope I was holding onto began to crack.

When hope breaks, the soul breaks with it.

Today’s story is about why our well-meant comfort can sometimes cut deeper than we think.

We speak with sincerity, hoping our words might bring strength.

But as I mentioned in Episode 1, comfort can sometimes become a blade — leaving invisible scars.

Through my own experience, I want to dive a little deeper into that truth.

So let’s begin our second story together.

🌙 The Uninvited Guests: Pain and Side Effects

After my surgery, I endured day after day of pain, hoping it would eventually fade away.

But before that pain disappeared, another uninvited guest showed up — a side effect from the medication.

It was just a tiny pill, innocent-looking on the outside.

But once inside my body, it caused unbearable reactions.

The worst of them all — I couldn’t sleep.

Ever since I’d recovered from depression long ago, I had never struggled with sleep again.

Once I lay down, I would sleep soundly till morning.

Even when I was sick, I’d simply rest more — and my body would heal.

But now, sleep had vanished.

At first, I thought it was the pain keeping me awake.

But even on nights when the pain eased, sleep still wouldn’t come.

I tried everything — emptying my mind, deep breathing, playing relaxing music, lighting lavender candles, even pushing my body harder during the day, hoping fatigue might knock me out.

But one day turned into two, then a week — still, I couldn’t sleep.

Pain from surgery mixed with sleepless nights, and my immune system began to weaken.

My doctor said it was a common side effect and prescribed sleeping pills.

But even those didn’t work.

Before surgery, I had slept through the worst pain imaginable.

Now, even when I was utterly exhausted, sleep refused to come.

Not just short naps — I stayed awake all night.

And even when morning came, I couldn’t fall asleep.

So I had to feel every ounce of pain, twenty-four hours a day.

And my body grew weaker by the day.

💬 When Advice Hurts More Than It Helps

Then came the advice. One after another.

“You’re just in shock.”

“Try not to think too much right now.”

Shock? Me?

I had faced a cancer diagnosis with gratitude.

Looking back, my whole life had been overflowing with grace.

All I could say was, “My life has been a gift from God.”

So how could shock be the reason I couldn’t sleep?

Then came more advice.

“Don’t use your phone before bed.”

Of course I know that — it’s common sense.

Would someone battling insomnia still scroll their phone before sleeping?

“Don’t take naps.”

What naps? I couldn’t even fall asleep at night.

“Make yourself more tired.”

How? I was already drained — in pain all day, struggling with side effects, barely eating, sweating nonstop.

I followed every instruction from my doctor, exercised lightly each day.

How much more exhausted was I supposed to make myself?

Then came the familiar lines —

“Drink warm milk.”

“Eat a banana.”

“Take deep breaths.”

“Listen to calming music.”

“Pray more.”

“Read the Bible.”

I knew they meant well.

But their words began to twist inside me.

Did they think this was my fault?

That I couldn’t sleep because I wasn’t trying hard enough?

That’s when I noticed — I was beginning to break.

Their words no longer comforted me.

They only made me feel as if I had caused all this pain myself.

🕯 When Strength Turns Into Weakness

I used to think I knew everything about sleep — how to fall asleep, how to rest well.

I’d even teased people who struggled with it.

But now, I was one of them.

I tried every method I knew, but nothing worked.

Finally, my doctor referred me to a psychiatrist.

After counseling, I was told again — these were drug side effects.

I was prescribed sleeping pills four times stronger than the original dose.

One pill didn’t work, then two, then three — only after taking four could I finally sleep.

But as sleep returned, another battle began.

New side effects emerged — sudden nausea, dizziness, shortness of breath, weakness spreading through my body.

It felt like heatstroke, low blood sugar, anxiety, and fainting — all at once.

I’d break out in cold sweats, then suddenly feel burning hot.

When the symptoms ended, it was like every bit of strength had been drained from my body.

Each episode lasted five to ten minutes, coming back every half hour.

Sometimes, the sweat wouldn’t come at all.

Those were the worst nights — I could only wait, taking deep breaths, hoping it would pass.

It often took six hours before I finally began to sweat.

By then, I was too weak to move.

In a month, I lost over ten kilograms.

I had no appetite, no energy, and by evening, even thinking about food was exhausting.

Still, I endured.

Because people live on hope.

I told myself this pain would end someday.

I looked at those who suffered even more and gave thanks — telling myself this was nothing.

I believed, somehow, that all of this would become precious lessons later —

just like how my experience with depression once helped me comfort others.

I kept believing — this time, it would be the same.

🌿 A Delicate Reminder

Today, I shared my journey of unending pain after surgery, sleepless nights caused by medication, and the unexpected wounds that well-meant advice left behind.

Through it all, I tried to endure — holding on to hope and gratitude.

But as the side effects worsened, I began to pull away — distancing myself from others, trying not to get hurt again.

Only after walking through that valley did I finally learn what true comfort really means.

We’ll talk about that in the next episode.

May today’s story remind us how delicate comfort can be, and how carefully we must hold another person’s pain.

Here on The Path to Happiness, I’m always cheering for you.

See you next time. 🌿

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© Glory Kim All Rights Reserved.

This essay is an original work by Glory Kim and is protected under copyright law.

Unauthorized reproduction, adaptation, redistribution, or commercial use is strictly prohibited.

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