Before you call this the worst chapter of your life, give yourself time to turn the page.
By Dr. Amarjeet Singh Sran @ AJ
There are moments when life changes before we have time to understand what is happening.
A phone rings. A letter arrives. Someone we love says something we cannot forget. A door we worked so hard to open closes in front of us.
We sit quietly, staring at nothing, while one question keeps returning:
“Why did this have to happen to me?”
Perhaps you have asked it in a hospital corridor. Perhaps in your car after losing a job. Perhaps beside someone whose presence once felt like home, but now feels painfully distant.
In those moments, calling it “bad luck” comes naturally.
What else could we call something that hurts this much?
Yet an old story asks us to pause before deciding what one event means for the rest of our lives.
Its wisdom begins with a farmer, a horse, and a question.
Good luck, bad luck—who can tell?
The Farmer Who Would Not Judge Too Soon
In an old parable, a farmer lived with his son in a small village.
They owned a beautiful horse. The animal helped them work their land and earn their living. Losing it would mean far more than losing a possession.
One morning, the horse disappeared.
The farmer searched, but there was no sign of it.
When the neighbours heard, they came to offer sympathy.
“What terrible luck,” they said. “How will you manage now?”
The farmer looked towards the empty field.
“Good luck, bad luck—who can tell?”
His neighbours were puzzled. Surely the loss was obvious. Without the horse, the work would become harder and the family’s future less certain.
A few days later, the horse returned.
Behind it came twelve wild horses.
The neighbours hurried back.
“What wonderful luck! You have more horses than you ever imagined!”
The farmer watched the animals moving across his land.
“Good luck, bad luck—who can tell?”
This time, they thought he was being unnecessarily difficult. Why could he not simply celebrate his good fortune?
Then his son tried to ride one of the wild horses.
He was thrown to the ground and broke both legs.
The house that had briefly filled with excitement became a place of pain and worry.
Again, the neighbours arrived.
“What terrible luck. Your son is injured, and now you must manage the work alone.”
The farmer stayed beside his son.
“Good luck, bad luck—who can tell?”
Soon afterwards, soldiers entered the village.
War had broken out. Young, able-bodied men were taken away to fight. Families stood at their doorways, watching their sons leave, uncertain whether they would ever return.
The farmer’s son was left behind because of his broken legs.
The injury remained painful. His recovery would still take time.
But the event everyone had called a disaster had also kept him from being taken to war.
And the question remained.
Good luck, bad luck—who can tell?
We Judge a Whole Life From One Moment
The neighbours were quick to speak because they could see what had just happened.
So are we.
We receive a rejection and decide we are failures.
We lose an opportunity and conclude that nothing ever works out for us.
Someone walks away, and we begin to question whether we were ever worth loving.
The event hurts. Then the meaning we attach to it hurts us again.
“I did not get this job” becomes “Nobody will ever want me.”
“This relationship ended” becomes “I will always be alone.”
“My plans have changed” becomes “My life is ruined.”
Read those sentences slowly.
Notice how quickly a painful experience becomes a permanent judgement.
We take what happened today and make it speak for every tomorrow.
The farmer’s question creates a little space between the event and that judgement. Enough space to breathe. Enough space to say:
“This is difficult. I do not yet know everything that will follow.”
That small change can help us face the next day without demanding that we understand our entire future.
You Are Allowed to Hurt
Someone reading this may be thinking:
“That is a lovely story. But you do not know what I have lost.”
You are right.
A story cannot measure the weight you carry. It cannot sit your examination, pay your bills, repair a betrayal, or bring someone back.
And no one should rush into your suffering with a cheerful explanation.
When someone is grieving, they may need a hand to hold before they need advice.
When someone has lost their livelihood, they may need practical help before they can consider new possibilities.
When someone is exhausted, another instruction to “stay positive” may feel like one more burden.
There are losses we would never choose, even knowing what we learned afterwards.
There are people whose absence never becomes a blessing.
You do not have to be grateful for what wounded you. You can acknowledge the damage and still allow yourself a future.
You can mourn what happened while remaining open to what may still happen.
Some days, that openness will be very small.
It may be no more than getting out of bed, answering a friend’s call, or agreeing to try again tomorrow.
That counts.
A Small Decision That Became Something More
Years ago, while volunteering to help people in Myanmar, and previously in Aceh, I experienced how an ordinary decision could grow beyond its original purpose.
My friends and I had spent about a week in a place we had come to love. We wanted to stay a little longer, although we were ready to move on from our existing volunteer arrangement.
Then a friend mentioned a house available for rent.
It cost only $400 a month. It stood on a large piece of land with fruit trees, backed by a beautiful mountain range.
We were delighted.
What luck!
At the time, we were making a practical decision about somewhere to stay. We could appreciate the surroundings and the opportunity in front of us. We could not see everything that might develop from it.
Looking back, I associate that period with a wider journey of helping people in Aceh and Yangon.
What first appeared to be a fortunate accommodation opportunity became connected to something more meaningful: service, relationships, and people helping one another.
It reminds me how limited our first impressions can be.
Sometimes we recognise the importance of a decision only after we have lived with its consequences.
When Life Refuses to Follow Your Plan
Many of us carry a private timetable.
By this age, I should be successful.
By this year, I should own a home.
By now, my family should be settled.
By now, life should feel easier.
Then something happens that was never on the timetable.
A business struggles. A responsibility grows heavier. A relationship changes. We have to start again when we thought we should already be enjoying what we built.
Part of the pain comes from the event itself. Another part comes from comparing our lives with the lives we expected to have.
We look at other people and wonder why their roads seem clearer.
But we rarely see the full cost of another person’s journey. We see the announcement, the photograph, the achievement. We miss the difficult conversations, the uncertainty, and the nights they lay awake.
Your life deserves more patience than a comparison can offer.
You may need to change direction. You may need help. You may need longer than you hoped.
None of that makes your effort meaningless.
The question now is what deserves your attention, given the life in front of you.
Acceptance Still Leaves You With Choices
The farmer’s patience can easily be misunderstood.
Accepting that something has happened does not remove our responsibility to respond.
A lost job still requires decisions. An injury still needs care. A damaged relationship may require an honest conversation, boundaries, or distance.
We can remain uncertain about the eventual outcome while being clear about the next useful action.
Try separating these two questions:
What has happened?
What am I telling myself it means?
Perhaps what happened is that your business lost an important customer.
What you are telling yourself is that everything you have built will collapse.
The first requires attention. The second is a prediction.
You can examine the finances, contact customers, adjust spending, and ask for advice without treating that prediction as a fact.
This takes practice, especially when fear is loud.
Begin gently. Describe the situation as accurately as you can. Then choose one action within your reach.
You do not need certainty to make a worthwhile decision.
Be Gentle With Other People’s Unfinished Stories
The neighbours kept returning with a verdict.
Good fortune. Disaster. Good fortune again.
How often do we do the same to others?
We hear that someone has lost a job and assume their career is finished.
We see someone succeeding and imagine their worries have disappeared.
We watch a person struggle and quietly decide they made poor choices, even though we know very little about what they faced.
People need room to live beyond our first impressions.
Before offering a judgement, offer attention.
Ask how they are managing. Listen to the answer. Help where you can.
A meal, a useful introduction, a lift, or an hour of patient company may do more than a beautifully worded lesson.
Sometimes the kindest thing we can say is:
“I cannot tell you how this will turn out. But I can sit with you while you work through it.”
Leave Some Room for Tomorrow
If life feels heavy today, you do not have to pretend otherwise.
Name what hurts. Attend to what needs attention. Let trustworthy people support you.
Then be careful with the words you use about your future.
Try replacing “Everything is over” with something more truthful:
“I cannot see the way forward yet.”
That final word matters.
Yet.
It leaves room for information you do not have, people you have not met, and decisions you have not made.
Tomorrow may still be difficult. Recovery may take longer than you want. Some things may never return to the way they were.
Even so, there may be love, usefulness, laughter, and purpose ahead that you cannot picture from where you are standing.
You are allowed to reach for those things without having all the answers.
Before you decide what this chapter means, give yourself time to live beyond it.
Good luck, bad luck—who can tell?
For today, breathe. Take the next useful step. Let someone walk beside you.
Your story is still being lived.
Happy sharing with love,
Dr. Amarjeet Singh Sran @ AJ
Amarjeet Singh Sran (amarjeetsinghsran5@gmail.com) is a content creator under the Newswav Creator programme, where you get to express yourself, be a citizen journalist, and at the same time monetize your content & reach millions of users on Newswav. Log in to creator.newswav.com and become a Newswav Creator now!
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