October 15, 2025
Today’s Thought of the Day and Question of the Day explore how pain can become a strange kind of gift. Inspired by Mary Oliver’s quote about receiving a “box full of darkness,” this post looks at how hard years, bad choices, and quiet recoveries can turn into unexpected lessons.
The Strange Gifts We Don’t Ask For
Every day I share a Thought of the Day and Question of the Day, small things meant to spark big thoughts. Sometimes they’re funny, sometimes uncomfortable, and sometimes they hit a little too close to home.
Today’s reflection lands somewhere between heartbreak and hindsight, a place I know well. It’s about the darkness we don’t want, the pain we don’t choose, and the slow realization that those moments might have been the exact ones that shaped us most.
Thought of the Day:
“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” — Mary Oliver
When I first read this quote, I remember thinking, what kind of gift comes in a box like that? Most gifts are shiny. Wrapped in bright paper. Something you want to open. This one, not so much.
But life has a dark sense of humor, doesn’t it? It keeps handing you things that don’t look like gifts until you’ve lived through them. Then, suddenly, you’re older, a little more tired, and a lot more aware that pain has its own kind of generosity.
Mary Oliver wasn’t glorifying suffering, she was recognizing it. Some people give us joy, others give us lessons, and a few give us both in the same package. It just takes time (and maybe therapy) to tell the difference.
I used to think darkness was something to escape. Now I see it as a place where I’ve met the truest parts of myself, the ones I couldn’t see when everything was going fine.
If this resonates, you might also like “There’s never, ever been any such thing as bad news.” It dives deeper into the idea that perspective, not circumstance, decides whether something is “good” or “bad.”
Question of the Day:
What’s something painful that eventually turned out to be a gift?
For me, it was my 30s.
Those years weren’t entirely dark, there were highlights, sure, but where’s the fun in talking about those right now? Mostly, that decade was a cocktail of failed relationships, anxiety that moved in rent-free, and depression that hung around long enough to redecorate. Loneliness became a roommate, and I handled it all the wrong way: with alcohol. A self-medicating solution that, as it turns out, doesn’t actually medicate anything.
If life came with a “skip chapter” button, I would’ve hit it hard. But it didn’t. So I lived it, every messy, awkward, frustrating part. And in that darkness, something shifted. I learned how to listen to myself again.
My 30s stripped away a lot of illusions: that adults have it all figured out, that love always works out, that success looks like a straight line. Those years humbled me. They forced me to grow up in ways that had nothing to do with age and everything to do with honesty.
The decade ended quietly, without a dramatic turning point, but in that quiet, I started to heal. I started drinking less, thinking more, and forgiving myself for not being the person I thought I should be.
So when Mary Oliver talks about a box full of darkness being a gift, I get it now. Mine wasn’t wrapped neatly, but it was full of lessons. It taught me patience. Compassion. Perspective. Mostly, it taught me that you don’t need to love the pain to appreciate what it left behind.
If this post hit close to home, you might also like “It’s About Choosing the Ultimate Goal Over the Immediate Goal.” or the kindest thing you, in particular, can do for someone. Both explore how growth often shows up disguised as difficulty.
💬 Your Turn
What’s your “box full of darkness”?
What painful chapter in your life eventually turned into a gift?
Share it in the comments, or just think about it quietly. Reflection doesn’t always need an audience.
And if you like posts like this, join my free daily email for a new Thought of the Day and Question of the Day delivered every morning.
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