Finding pleasure in the pain, in Russian

Usually what people look forward to after a long day of classes is the sense of relief when you can throw all your things on the ground and hurl yourself into the sheets, pillows and blankets of a bed. Finding themselves in such comfort and peace, they most likely fall asleep in the bed’s protection from deadlines, homework, laundry and dorm room cleaning. 

While I do not know if everyone does this, I instead find myself hunched over my computer of common Russian words, my note-taking app open and my apple pencil in hand, listening to a video explaining how to write and pronounce the Russian alphabet for what feels like the millionth time. 

Before I ended up stumbling over Russian words, the thought of drifting away into my dreams became my routine, becoming the muse of my daydreams during class. It was one of my many senses of comfort in a place of the uncomfortable, known as endless amounts of homework, deadlines, papers to write and hours of studying I knew I had to do later. 

All I craved was that comfort, the feeling of peace and doing nothing rather than pushing myself out of my bed to sit at my desk staring at a textbook of math equations. In any way I could, I found myself wanting to maximize that pleasure and minimize any pain in my life. 

Pain can take many different shapes in our lives, not just small paper cuts or physical injuries. Pushing yourself to go workout when you want to relax in your room, studying when you want to doom-scroll, eating healthy when all you want is that sweet treat in the dining hall. 

In my Sociological Imaginations class, we learned about the major sociological theoretical perspectives of sociology. From the concepts of functionalism to symbolic interactionism, I found myself drawn to the sociological perspective of utilitarianism. 

Utilitarianism, founded by English philosopher Jeremy Bentham, is the doctrine or perspective that supports the actions that foster happiness or pleasure while opposing actions that bring pain or unhappiness. The theory suggests that if an action brings happiness to support a group then it’s right, and bringing unhappiness means the action is wrong. 

I am no philosopher or sociologist, only a college freshman, but this concept intrigued me because it held some truth to it. People looked for any opportunity to increase happiness in their lives and looked to decrease pain. But, the reality is, that desire for happiness and comfort is often abused in our modern society.

Mostly, I blame AI for this principle becoming more relevant in the 21st century. AI has taken over students’ minds with the concept of convenience disguised as saving time for other activities. With just a few clicks, essays can be drafted, questions answered and ideas generated, all without the discomfort of sitting with confusion or struggling through the uncertainty of your writing. It feeds directly into the utilitarian desire to maximize pleasure and minimize pain. Why struggle for hours when technology can do it in seconds?

In this way, utilitarianism becomes distorted in its principle. AI encourages us to choose what feels best in the moment rather than what is most beneficial in the long run. It minimizes immediate stress, confusion and frustration, but it also minimizes the meaningful challenge of using our own thoughts and turning them into words on a paper.

I see this pattern not only in academics, but in other areas of life as well. We choose scrolling over studying, convenience foods over nutrition, rest without balance over self-discipline. It reinforces a mindset where comfort is prioritized above all else, even when discomfort is necessary for growth. The bed becomes more than a place of rest, but a symbol of choosing ease over effort.

Over time, I began to realize that I had become a victim to the pleasure-over-pain principle. Comfort was easy to me and I greeted it with open arms, but it left me satisfied. Lying in bed scrolling on my phone or avoiding my responsibilities gave me temporary relief, but it always left me feeling more stressed later. I started questioning whether what felt good in the moment was actually good for me in the future. 

Instead of using my free time to escape my workload or my thoughts, I made a small but intentional change. I started learning Russian in my free time. At first, it was so uncomfortable, I already struggled with Spanish pronunciation and some English too, but this felt more awkward. Grammar rules were frustrating, too many words in Russian meant the same and different thing at the same time, and don’t get me started on learning the alphabet. 

But unlike my usual relaxation, the challenge became something more meaningful, something that turned from a small idea to an obsession. My discomfort from immersing myself into a new language resulted in opening a new version of myself. 

What surprised me most was how quickly learning Russian became pleasurable to me. The more I practiced my speaking and writing the more I wanted to improve and become fluent. Memorizing new vocabulary words, recognizing patterns, and understanding sentences I once couldn’t read became deeply rewarding. More rewarding than wasting time away on my phone. 

It quickly turned into me watching my favorite movies and shows in Russian with English subtitles, listening to Russian music, and spending my mornings participating on AirLearn to learn basic conversational phrases. 

In this way, my relationship with utilitarianism shifted. I no longer sought pleasure by avoiding the uncomfortable, but by embracing and immersing myself in it. The happiness I gained from learning a new language was not instant or effortless, but it has been lasting. It came from the drive for growth, discipline, and the satisfaction of knowing I am actively trying to better myself.

Through this experience, I learned that pleasure is not only found in itself, but also found in the pain. The difficulty of putting in the work, challenging yourself, and removing yourself from the comfort of your metaphorical bed. The most meaningful form of happiness comes from choosing a challenge over the ease of everyday life. By redefining what pleasure meant to me, I found something far more rewarding than relaxation: a genuine love for learning and the motivation to keep pushing myself, even when it is difficult and still hard to pronounce the Russian alphabet.