Perspective

Have you ever noticed that by simply taking the time to view a situation a little differently it can dramatically change the way you see it? I have found this to be so true. Especially quite recently with my diagnosis of Vestibular Neuritis and the way that I’m now learning to live my life with 

this condition and the daily dizziness it brings. 

One of the reasons for this paradigm shift and new found perspective is from reading a book 

by Max Lucado. 

I love Max Lucado. He is my all-time favourite author.I've read practically everything he's ever written and often joke with my friends that if he ever published his grocery shopping list, I
 would probably buy that too AND all the groceries he buys, in the hope that some of his insight
and creativity may rub off on me by way of osmosis. Seriously.

And look, the whole top shelf of my bookcase is devoted to his writing.

Can you tell I'm a fan?

So after a long and very difficult struggle with depression, I once again turned to Max for some hope and much needed perspective. I found it in one of his older books

 entitled 'Every Day Deserves A Chance'.

In it he encourages readers to try and see their circumstances from a different perspective.

Chapter 3 "Gratitude for Ungrateful Days" moved me. Hard.

It's not that I was ungrateful, but the misery of my condition blotted out the fact that although I was suffering, there was still a lot I had to be grateful for.

The following is an excerpt from that chapter, where he compares the attitude of

a dog and a cat. Same house. Same circumstances. Same owner.

Yet completely different attitudes.

Excerpts from the diary of a dog:

8:00 a.m. Oh boy, dog food - my favourite.

9:30 a.m. Oh boy, a car ride - my favourite.

9:40 a.m. Oh boy, a walk - my favourite.

10:30 a.m. Oh boy, another car ride - my favourite.

11:30 a.m. Oh boy, more dog food - my favourite.

12:00 p.m. Oh boy, the kids - my favourite.

1:00 p.m. Oh boy, the yard - my favourite.

4:00 p.m. Oh boy, the kids again - my favourite.

5:00 p.m. Oh boy, dog food again - my favourite.

5:30 pm. Oh boy, Mom - my favourite.

6:00 p.m. Oh boy, playing ball - my favourite.

8:30 pm. Oh boy, sleeping in my master's bed - my favourite.

Excerpts from the diary of a cat:

Day 283 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They

dine lavishly on fresh meat while I'm forced to eat dry cereal. I'm sustained by the hope of escape and the mild satisfaction I derive from ruining a few pieces of  furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant. I attempted to kill my captors this morning by weaving through their walking feet. Nearly succeeded. Must try this strategy at the top of the stairs. Seeking to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favourite chair. Must try this on their bed.

To display my diabolical disposition, I decapitated a mouse and deposited the headless body on the kitchen floor. They only cooed and condescended, patting my head and calling me a  "strong little kitty." Hmmm - not working according to plan.

During a gathering of their accomplices, they placed me in solitary confinement. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of allergies. Must learn what that means and use it to my advantage.

I am convinced the other household captives are flunkies, perhaps snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems naively happy to return. He is, no doubt, a half wit. Must be an informant. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal cage, his safety is assured, but I can wait. It is only a matter of time.

Max, then goes on to ask the question "Which diary reads more like yours?

'

Now, please don't misunderstand, I do not expect that anyone suffering with a vestibular disorder or any other chronic illness should ever say:

Oh boy, nausea - my favourite.

Oh boy, dizziness - my favourite.

Oh boy, vertigo - my favourtie.

God forbid, no. NO!

And if you were a fly on the wall to witness me going through an attack of vertigo, you would have to censor what came out of my mouth. But here's what I am saying. I think it is possible to reframe the way we think about our suffering. Yes, it is miserable what has happened to us and some may even think unfair, but the 'cat' mentality will only serve to enhance the pain and prolong the misery.

In recent weeks I've tried saying to myself...my body is trying to regulate itself; I will not be spinning forever; I will not die from this and (yes, it's a cliche, and used so often it can sound trite, but); this too shall pass...

I think it's helping.

All I needed was a change of perspective.

What has helped you change the way you look at your condition?