I talked a little bit about perspective in my last post. It's something I've been thinking a lot about lately. When my daughter was born we had a really hard time getting her to do anything other than cry nonstop, day in and day out for the first 6 weeks of her life. I remember one day my Mom came over to help me. She said, "It's always so much easier with your second or third child. I wish there was a way you could just pretend she isn't your first." And she was right- it is so much easier the second time around. But I couldn't just pretend she wasn't my first. I simply lacked the perspective that I had when my second child was born. I didn't have the ability to reference a prior experience and realize that this would be just a phase. In my mind, my daughter was set to spend her entire life crying, screaming and refusing to nurse or sleep. But when my son was born and he would cry and scream, I had the perspective to understand that this too shall pass. Which, of course, it did.
Shifting my perspective is a tactic I've used a lot over the past 8 (or is it 800?) months. When my kids are home during a remote school week and in the middle of a Special on their computers, I often peek into their makeshift classroom to see what they're working on. I could easily watch them following along with an art project or a music lesson through the computer and feel bad for them. I could be bummed for my son who has never stepped foot in his art classroom at school or even met any of the Specials teachers in person since he's in Kindergarten. But I don't. Instead, I shift my perspective and think "It's amazing that they're even able to have Specials this year." I think about how hard their Teachers and staff are working this year to make sure the kids are still learning and thriving. And I think about how lucky they are to even have a hybrid option and be able to be at school in-person every other week.
Perspective is something I also think a lot about when working out, thanks to my Coach. Morgan Bungerz was my first and only Coach at the Crossfit gym I went to for the past 3 years, and when he started a new, virtual gym (Gym Bungerz) mid-pandemic, Irv and I were some of the first to sign up and immediately began to transform our sunroom into a full blown home gym. We constantly discuss how incredible it is to be able to simply walk downstairs 5 minutes before a workout starts, but sometimes when you're in the middle of 30 burpees and still have many rounds of 30 deadlifts and 30 air squats to go, it's easy to lose your perspective. Sweat pouring onto the floor, lungs burning, legs feeling like jello, it'd be easy to wonder why we're torturing ourselves and just throw in the towel, especially since usually it's just me alone in the room, Irv having finished his workout a couple hours earlier. But then I hear Morgan's booming, supportive voice yell out his most encouraging line to all of us who are in the virtual workout together, both locally and around the world: "We get to do this, guys!" And then, everything changes. I remember that not everyone gets to do this. We lost my Mother-In-Law to ALS two short months ago. She would have given anything and everything to be able to use any of her muscles over the past 12 months. Morgan reminds us that we have nothing to complain about while working out, and actually have everything to celebrate. Movement is not a given, it's a gift. And so is the ability to shift your perspective, shut off the negative voice in your head and be grateful for what you have.
