My basement flooded. Two days of water coming back up, no washing your hands, no shower, me trying everything and still fixing it.
And my kids started working. Hauling buckets of nasty water out of the house, all of them, together, on a Saturday they would otherwise have spent on a screen.
I could have stood in that water and said, damn it, why me. I said something else. This is the only week my children will ever learn they are not entitled to a house where everything works and somebody else fixes it.
Nothing sweet in my life ever made me better. Every hard thing did. That is not a comforting idea, it is the math, and the job hunt is where you will either have it or not.