You’ve probably heard stories about how in the Middle Ages — or even later — some rulers took small doses of poison regularly, so that if someone tried to kill them, their body would be prepared. Whether that worked is beside the point, but the idea itself is curious — because in other areas, it actually does work.
I want to tell two stories that may seem unrelated at first but are actually about the same thing.
The first one is about a phobia. I’ve been afraid of worms and larvae since childhood. When I was a kid, I could still deal with it — I’d dig in the garden and see them — it was unpleasant, but tolerable. Around age 13, it got worse. Once I tried to overcome the fear and touch a worm, and as I reached out, something crawled out of it. After that, I started avoiding even pictures. A couple of years ago, I couldn’t even say the word “larva” without cringing. It got so bad that even phrases like “under his disguise...” or “lock cylinder” or even the fruit “lychee” made me uncomfortable (all these words and phrases sound similar in Russian: lichinka, under his lichina, lock lichinka, lychee).
I realized it was interfering with life and decided to reverse the spiral. First, I forced myself to say the word out loud — I’d sit for a minute repeating “larva-larva-larva.” Then I started looking at cartoon caterpillars. Then I stopped instantly swiping away Reels that showed crawling bugs. At some point, I even started peeking into reptile feed boxes in pet stores — yes, with those things inside. Now, if I see worms or larvae in a movie, I’m still uncomfortable, but not paralyzed. Recently I was walking with someone, and he said, “Look!” I turned — and there was this eight-centimeter fat creature crawling along the asphalt. My stomach did a double backflip, but it wasn’t the kind of horror I would’ve felt a year ago. A therapist told me I intuitively found the right approach: it’s called exposure therapy. I expose myself to the thing that causes discomfort, but I control the dose.
The second story is about dancing. There’s a move where you drop to one knee, spin 180 degrees, and get up. It looks like you're spinning on one spot several times. And yeah — it hurts. After the first ten tries, I had lumps on both knees that stayed for a week. I kept going. Eventually, they faded in five days, then in three. Then they stopped appearing altogether — my knees adapted. Now I can do the move with no major issues, though it used to be seriously uncomfortable.
This is the same story: we avoid things because we anticipate pain. We fear losing money, failing, being judged, dealing with conflict. But unless you start, the pain doesn’t go away. And it’s not about some cliché “step out of your comfort zone” — it’s about not being afraid to do that when there's a reason to.
Say you want to start a business but are afraid to run ads — what if you waste the money? But unless you try, you won’t know how to do it better next time. I used to fantasize about a business — like “yeah, I’ll make a billion dollars!” But that was more of a fantasy. I didn’t even know what I’d do with that billion. I had no real reason to endure the pain. Then I needed to start a company just to make work easier. And that’s when I paid lawyers, accountants — dealt with bureaucracy — still afraid of little things like “what if I never use it?” — but I knew why I was doing it. Now, it turns out some friends might need a business incubator to stay in the country. And I thought — can I help? I have the setup. I can try. Not to get rich — just because it’s useful, it brings people joy, and I make a few euros. That’s something I’m happy to spend money and effort on — because it feels meaningful and aligned with my values.
Same thing with relationships. People are scared to find out their partner wants different things. Like you want to live in a red house, and they want green — and neither wants to compromise. So you don’t talk about it. You live in a brown house — a compromise — because you’re not just afraid of losing the person, but of having to start all over again with someone new. And that might be fine — maybe the relationship matters more to you than wall color. Or maybe not. But unless you talk about the wall, you’re not moving toward harmony. Either way, pain is part of the process — you’ll have to face it eventually.
So: pain is unavoidable. And more than that — it’s only by facing it and going through it again and again that we learn to live with it. The difference between someone doing something for the first time and the hundredth time is that the first time, they don’t even know what kind of pain to expect. And the hundredth? They've already survived the worst — a dozen times over.