If you're going to go through hell... I suggest you come back

There are some truths that are born only in fire — the kind that scorches away illusion and pride, leaving the soul raw, trembling, and awake. Drew Barrymore, whose own life has been a storm of beauty and hardship, once said: “If you’re going to go through hell... I suggest you come back learning something.” These words burn with the wisdom of one who has walked through darkness and returned carrying light. They remind us that suffering, though brutal, can also be a teacher — that hell, whether it comes in the form of loss, addiction, heartbreak, or despair, is not only a place of destruction, but also a forge where character and understanding are refined.

The meaning of Barrymore’s quote lies in the transformation of pain into growth. To “go through hell” is to endure those trials that tear at the core of our being — the kind that strip us of comfort, identity, and control. But to “come back learning something” is to refuse to let that suffering be meaningless. It is to wrestle wisdom from agony, to rise from the ashes carrying new insight. In essence, she teaches that every descent into suffering must become a journey of rebirth — that the only true failure in life’s hardest moments is to endure them without learning from them.

The origin of this truth reaches far beyond Barrymore’s personal story; it echoes through the philosophies of the ancients. The Greek poet Aeschylus once wrote, “He who learns must suffer, and even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, until, in our despair, against our will, comes wisdom.” The ancients believed that pain was not merely punishment, but purification — that it breaks the false walls around the heart and forces us to see life in its truest form. Drew Barrymore, having faced her own trials of fame, family turmoil, and early exposure to the world’s excesses, speaks from the same well of truth. She transformed her own hell into the soil of growth, rising not as a victim, but as one reborn in strength and understanding.

History gives us countless examples of those who have lived this teaching. Consider Nelson Mandela, who spent twenty-seven years in prison — years that could have drowned his spirit in bitterness. Yet, when he emerged, he carried not hatred, but forgiveness; not vengeance, but vision. He learned that resilience and compassion were mightier than revenge. His “hell” became his greatest teacher, shaping him into one of humanity’s most luminous figures. He proved that suffering, when faced with courage and reflection, can turn into the very power that redeems us.

To go through hell without learning is to be consumed by it. But to observe one’s pain, to question it, and to find meaning within it — that is to master it. Each heartbreak can teach us empathy; each failure, humility; each loss, gratitude. The fire that burns us can also illuminate the hidden corners of our soul. The ancients would say: “Do not curse the fire, for it tempers the steel.” In this way, Barrymore’s wisdom becomes universal: pain is inevitable, but growth is a choice.

There is also a warning in her words — for not all who enter suffering emerge wiser. Some return hardened, cynical, or lost. The difference lies in awareness. Those who learn from hardship do not flee from their pain, but face it with open eyes. They ask: “What is this experience trying to teach me? What within me must change?” Such questions are the alchemy of the spirit — turning despair into strength, ignorance into understanding, and chaos into peace. The lesson of hell, when taken with humility, becomes the seed of heaven within.

Let this be the teaching to all who struggle: if you must suffer — and all humans must — then let your suffering become sacred. Walk through hell with your eyes open. Observe, endure, and learn. Do not waste your pain in resentment or self-pity; harvest its wisdom instead. When the flames die down and you stand once more in the light, you will find that you are not the same — you will be tempered, deeper, wiser, more compassionate. For as Drew Barrymore reminds us, hell is not meant to destroy the soul; it is meant to awaken it. And those who return from its depths having learned, truly live — not as survivors, but as masters of their own becoming.