Rethinking Growth: Must It Only Come from Tragedy?

Today, after a deeply reflective session with a client, I found myself grappling with a notion that is so ingrained in our culture: the idea that true growth or transformation can only emerge from adversity, hardship, or tragedy. This client, like many of us, felt that unless they were overcoming some monumental challenge, their life lacked depth or meaning. Their narrative, like so many others, had been shaped by the belief that personal transformation must be tied to stories of suffering.

In reflecting on this, I began to see just how deeply this idea is embedded in our society. From childhood, we’re told stories that equate growth with overcoming adversity. Think of the bedtime stories we were raised on—tales of triumph after struggle. Whether it’s the brave hero defeating the dragon or Humpty Dumpty falling and, despite the brokenness, being put back together again, the message is clear: transformation comes only through difficulty.

Even children's poetry reinforces this notion. Take Humpty Dumpty as an example. He falls, shatters, and his story becomes one of rebuilding, highlighting the common theme that growth emerges after disaster. The stories we consume tell us that only after breaking can we be made whole again.

As we grow older, this belief solidifies. In adulthood, we unconsciously begin to create complexities in our own lives—sometimes even when our circumstances are good or privileged—because we have learned to associate growth with hardship. Society reinforces this by holding up adversity as the ultimate measure of personal evolution. We hear of individuals who triumph over tragedy, whether in stories, biographies, or media, and those become the "single stories" that define our understanding of transformation.

We equate moving forward in life with markers like graduating school, securing a job, buying a house, or facing financial struggles. These tangible achievements signal our growth. But what about emotional or maturational growth? Do we need pain to grow? Is it not possible to evolve emotionally and spiritually even when life is well, even when we are not battling crises?

As a clinician, I find myself increasingly challenging this idea. Can we redefine growth as something that also happens in periods of peace and stability? What if we could see growth not just as rising from the ashes of tragedy, but as quietly building ourselves in the everyday moments of joy, love, and contentment?

I wonder, too, if we are missing the quiet, powerful transformations that happen when life is good. We tend to overlook emotional maturation that takes place when we are kind to ourselves or when we practice patience, empathy, or mindfulness without being forced to by hardship. Perhaps this type of growth—the kind that happens in stillness and calm—is less dramatic, but no less significant.

Maybe it’s time to shift the narrative. Growth isn’t always about overcoming tragedy; it’s about becoming. And becoming can happen in the gentle spaces of our lives, too.

What would it mean if we allowed ourselves to measure our growth not by how much we’ve suffered, but by how much we’ve learned to cherish the goodness that is already here?

Perhaps it’s time to embrace that, sometimes, we grow simply by being.