I'm now seeing there's a suffering-makes-you-worthy component in my fucked up childhood baggage.

Suffering to achieve worth is a superficially appealing alternative to accepting the world throws out endless cruelties, arbitrary but for the lack of ability for the already hurt to cope with it.

But what that sets up is; it's never apparently turned around (and why would it? Turning the situation around takes the sort of confidence as well as energy that you're not going to have if you're slammed constantly, like I was as a kid). This clearly means I'm not really worthwhile and maybe I'm not even suffering right? And then you've got the adult world telling me that what I'm going through isn't even vaguely worthy, that things are ideal, that they've provided so much, that I'm privileged all over the map.

I think I'm thinking of it as part of the "I need to be miserable so the good people can get what they want" baggage I've been trying to break through, lately, since one way in which people were officially good was that they had suffered and therefore I had to bend over backwards for them.