My desires haven't altogether changed; I still want my pain to go away. Anyone who felt what I feel and said otherwise would be talking nonsense. But I no longer want it quite so desperately as I once did. Other wants have changed too. For much of my working life, my most desperate desire was to avoid failure and embarrassment. My heart's most fervent prayer was: "Please don't let me mess up too badly." When that prayer failed, I had a backup: "If I do, help me cover it up so no one will notice." I don't pray those sad prayers now. One benefit of living with agony is that professional failure seems a smaller thing than it once did. So does professional success. I take more joy in my work now than I did when my back was healthy; not coincidentally, I have less ego invested in it. I care more about getting things right and less about convincing others that I’m clever. I love the ideas more, and I love the praise I get from them less, which makes for better ideas, and a more satisfying professional life.
From William J. Stuntz reflection on Suffering, Doing Your Duty
My own condition has given me joyful freedom. No longer am I incredibly anxious about my future, a worry which had been a looming tyrant in my healthier days. Any lengthy experience of one's powerlessness exposes petty successes and failures for what they are.
Following Servais Pinckaers, I'm a bit worried about the author's emphasis on Duty and Obligation, which sometimes overshadow Virtue, but perhaps I'm reading too much into this. Stuntz touches upon the Cross, but generally avoids Christology. John Paul II's Apostolic Letter on the Christian meaning of human suffering, Salvifici Doloris, fills this gap nicely.
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