Possibly not the most uplifting thing to hear, but true.
I was obsessed with fairness as a kid – in part because I’ve always been a record-keeper. I remembered what the other kids got when it was their turn and I wanted the exact same thing when it was my go. Who else still remembers that her second grade teacher forgot her birthday or that her third grade teacher didn’t use her name as a practice word when teaching cursive capitals?
My mother heard me complain that things weren’t fair quite often. I was hyper-aware of what my younger sister received and was ever vigilant that things be dead even. I remember my mother explaining that things didn’t have to be even to be fair – fairness wasn’t exact as people’s relative needs weren’t exact. I wasn’t interested in semantics. I wanted justice.
Eventually, she informed me that life wasn’t fair. Sometimes, you got a bad deal. At that point, you had a choice – you could stomp around and raise a fuss (my general choice), you could pout (also a popular personal choice), or you could make the most of what life gave you.