Perception

                                 



        Quiet sobs shook my body as I awoke on the morning of my twenty-fifth birthday, completely alone. Darkness encompassed the room as I lay stiffly on a hard, lumpy bed, over 1,000 miles from home. My mind and body were both stricken with aftershocks of the previous day. I was haunted by the sounds of tires squealing and metal smashing metal, the feel of my head slamming against a window, the pull of my body being whipped from side to side, and the memory of being held captive in a car spinning out of control. It was on this lonely day of suffering and self-pity, that I was about to learn an important lesson about perception and reality.

        During this agony, I told myself to be strong, but I felt so frail, like a delicate flower that had been jerked from its roots and crumpled. I lay there an innocent victim feeling violated, overwrought, and confused. I strained to sit upright, and my neck muscles screamed in protest. My throat desiccated as my tonsils enflamed with fire. The beat of my heart pounded wildly like a hammer in my head. I collapsed back onto the awful bed, in a state of misery and pain. Sore muscles demanded possession over my senses, and I weakly surrendered.

        I ached for comfort, and desired whispers of solace to ease my pain. I thought about my family, my home, my bed, my life, and then mulled over my own miserable condition. My mind generated only negative feelings, feeding into an abyss of self-pity. I was pathetic. Desiring consolation, I telephoned my sister at home. She reacted frantically to my tale of events, asking if I was hurt and if I was okay. Hastily, I explained my suffering, my solitude, and my need of comfort. My sister then announced her gratitude for my being alive, and my bearing no major injury. She promised to be at my side, along with our mother the next day. I put the phone down, feeling a little better. My sister had displayed genuine concern and offered words that were soothing, loving, and sincere. However, I still felt a void within, which made no sense at all. I pondered over our conversation and the words she had said to me. People died in car accidents everyday, but I had lived. I had survived, enduring only minor injuries. And then it hit me. My own perception of this situation could make it better, or worse. My attitude changed almost instantaneously.

      Inspired by this new revelation, I was no longer imprisoned by the chains of self-pity. My abyss rapidly filled itself, and then it ceased to exist. My own selfishness had been hanging over me like a dark cloud, paralyzing me from moving forward. I began to view my unfortunate condition as a miracle and a blessing. My thought patterns transpired from a negative to positive, and my entire body rejuvenated. This day was no ordinary day. On my twenty-fifth birthday, I was presented with a gift that carried wisdom. I learned that changing my perspective changes my attitude, and changing my attitude changes the way I feel. I now understand and believe that perception in the eye of the beholder is reality.