When life feels hard, you might find yourself caught up looking at things from a singular perspective, one that you haven’t questioned, the popular perspective. Shifting your perspective can make it feel even harder, but in the process, you might catch a glimpse of something that will help you keep looking.
t felt like July and August just flew by for me this year, and as I write this, September 1st has arrived. Although the autumnal equinox is still 22 days away, fall is in the air. Now, since I live in Central Florida, you have to take that last statement with a grain of salt. Fall isn’t literally in the air here until sometime in November, if we’re lucky.
I used to admire others who I viewed as having strong belief systems. You may know someone like this. They know exactly what they believe and can articulate the whats, whys and hows ever so succinctly. While I, on the other hand, would struggle to create a list of my top 10 beliefs, unless they were something most people would agree were true.
As someone who is learning how to navigate life with chronic illness, time has taken on a new meaning for me. What I’ve discovered is that my energy stays pretty high throughout the morning hours, then wanes in the afternoons. And by wanes, I mean there are times when I feel attached to the couch by some unseen gravitational force.
When I think of gratitude, the first thing I envision is a gratitude journal, some sort of intentional daily practice or maybe even the act of expressing gratitude to someone. What I don’t normally think of is gratitude happening TO me and that’s exactly what’s happened a few evenings ago.
That’s me too. Stubborn. Not listening or not believing when I’m getting a clear message that “this room is not for me”. I have to say, I’m pretty darn tenacious, almost to a fault. I will keep trying until the door is closed, locked and deadbolted.
I just hate this insecurity inside me that won’t seem to go away. I haven’t been that little girl in decades, but when I even get a whiff of disapproval or rejection, she comes roaring back, demanding that someone reassure her and tell her that’s she’s being good. It just feels so damn needy.
When my brother and I were little, fairness was very important to us too. And when I say “fairness”, I don’t mean we wandered through our neighborhood rectifying injustices. I mean, everything we did included a measure to make sure we each got our fair share.
The point is the story. It’s a constant cycling, just like life itself. Without a present, there would be no history and without a future there would be no present. You can’t have your past and live it too. It just doesn’t work that way.
If being self-conscious is a concern with the way one is perceived by others, then a recent Sunday breakfast sets the perfect stage to showcase two disparate examples.