Abhay's Bhay

Why is it hard to talk about our problems? For some people, it seems easy—they can complain about their lives without hesitation. But for many of us, there’s something uncomfortable about admitting our struggles. Maybe it’s the awareness that some problems aren’t as heavy as others, especially when privilege is involved.

Last year, I was on a flight home for an unexpected reason. I’m an anxious traveler, and airports are never easy for me. I was standing there, clutching my ticket and focusing on my seat and zone number, trying to get through the process. Then the gate agents announced boarding for business and first-class passengers. Watching them line up, I felt irritated. It was like a reminder that I wasn’t “first class.” I was standing there, waiting for my turn, while they got their special treatment.

That’s when something hit me. I felt like I was watching myself from the outside, but from the eyes of ten-year-old me. He was a kid who could never have dreamt of flying, much less cared about being in first class. My sister and I grew up with a single mom, who did everything to make sure we had enough. We didn’t have extras, but we were loved, cared for, and safe. It dawned on me that my “problems” as an adult are privileges a younger me couldn’t even imagine.

Since that moment, I’ve noticed how often this pattern repeats itself. There have been times, while traveling or in new situations, when I see the big differences in people’s lives based on resources alone. Or when I get frustrated with my “privileged problems” like stress over attending events, personal debt, or balancing work/life. I realized that every year when people ask about my New Year’s resolutions, I want to say, “I just want a new set of problems.” I hope the struggles I face keep changing because that alone shows growth.

Reflecting on all this makes me wonder, what even counts as a problem? Is it just a passing inconvenience or something deeper, something that creates inner conflict? Problems seem tricky that way. They’re personal to each of us but can still impact others around us. Over time, though, I’ve come to see that a lot of the weight of a problem comes from how we choose to see it. My perspective—my internal narrative—can shape how I feel about a struggle and whether I move forward or stay stuck.

So now, when I feel overwhelmed or frustrated, I try to remember that the only thing I really control is how I look at the situation. My irritation at the airport or the envy that bubbles up sometimes are just pieces of a bigger picture. It’s strange to know that, while I stress over small things, there are people with struggles I’ll never truly understand. I might worry over whether I can buy a coffee, but the fact that I even have the choice feels like a privilege.

It’s not my fault or anyone’s that we’ve inherited a broken world, where some live amid cracks and others enjoy solid ground. But I realize that being aware of my privilege compels me to ask: What can I do with it?

I know there will always be people facing greater challenges, and others who may never even stop to think about theirs. All I know is that my problems are mine to face, to learn from, and to use to keep moving forward. I may not control where I started, but I can decide where I go from here. Maybe that’s the privilege I hold—not in the nature of my problems, but in the chance to face them, learn, and grow through each one.