I knew how I felt, but I couldn't come up with a good enough reason why I should feel that way. I believed happiness was something you had to earn through a suitable measure of suffering, the way the characters in my favorite books struggled with blindness, polio, Nazis, shipwreck, blizzards - unspeakable adversities through which, damaged but undefeated, they endured. And what had I suffered? Not one damn thing.
~Skin Game: a Memoir, Caroline Kettlewell pg11