𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦. 

My first round of chemotherapy was nothing short of brutal. After nine days, I became neutropenic and ended up on four days of round-the-clock IV antibiotics for febrile neutropenia.

I’ve been through a lot of hard things in life, but this was the first time I truly felt what it is to suffer. I’ve always prided myself on being the master of my own mind—someone who doesn't wallow and strives to be content in all circumstances (Philippians 4:11). My guiding mottos have always been: “You feel the way you think,” and “Gratefulness = joy.” And if I had to pick one word that’s pulled me out of the darkest depths time and time again? That’s easy: Perspective.

So when I looked out of that hospital window and saw the unmistakable blue rooftops—the ones that bring to mind innocent children in gowns surrounded by worried parents—it was like perspective reached out and smacked me upside the head. It snapped me out of my despair.

Since that day, I’ve been through three more rounds of chemo. None were as brutal as the first, but all brought side effects that made me long for and deeply cherish the good days. I could try to explain what it’s like to go through this, but unless you've lived it, it’s just hard to fully grasp. I know that—because I was once cancer-free, too.

One of the most common things people say about cancer is that it’s all about attitude. And yes, I believe with my whole heart that maintaining a good attitude is incredibly beneficial for both mental and physical health. But I also think we sometimes say that out of fear—because we so badly want to believe we’re in control. That if we just do everything “right,” we can steer the outcome.

But whether you believe in a higher power or not, the truth is—there’s so much we can’t control. Every person’s experience is different. Every body is different. Every backstory is different. And because of that, every journey through suffering will look and feel different too.

Which brings me back to perspective. If you're like me and find comfort in using it as a coping tool, this part is for you: yes, perspective is powerful. But I’ve learned the hard way that if you constantly dismiss your pain by saying, “It could be worse” (and of course, it always could be), you run the risk of burying your feelings so deep that they eventually leak out—or explode—when you least expect it.  Like me you may be convinced you’re handling it all just fine—until one day, out of nowhere, your emotions tell a different story.

If that happens, don’t fight it. Let it out. There is healing in the release.

I believe suffering has a purpose. Without it, we wouldn't grow. We wouldn't develop compassion, empathy, or humility. And people who lack those qualities? They can be dangerous. Suffering is what teaches us to cry out to God, to truly enjoy the good days, and to bless the servant-hearted people who want to help. In its own strange way, suffering can be a gift.

So while those blue roofs brought me the kind of perspective you’d expect, they also brought one I didn’t. And that is—when you really think about it—whether we’re lying in a bed in a children’s hospital or an adult one, we’re still someone’s child. And more importantly, we are God’s child. He already knows how we’re doing, deep down.

So give yourself permission to feel all the feels, whatever they may be. And put your hope in the Lord so you can face tomorrow.

If you want to hear more perspective stories and see more of my work, I'd love for you to follow along with me on instagram @theinspired_eye.