🌿Adjusting the Lens - Seeing Beyond the Surface

(From the Enliven the Senses Series)

🐝 What do you see?

Not everything is as it seems.

Can you adjust your lens before taking it personally?

Sometimes the first thing we “see” isn’t the truth.

It’s the flash of emotion that rises before understanding has a chance to breathe.

A tone of voice, a look, a silence — and suddenly the mind rushes in with a story:

They’re angry.

They don’t care.

I must have done something wrong.

And before we know it, we’ve added more:

They’re selfish. They’re cold. They’re mean.

But what if we paused long enough to look again —

to see beyond what’s on the surface?

Because often, what we’re reacting to in the present has roots that stretch far behind it —

to moments we never fully felt, words we never said, wounds we never healed.

🕊️ After Losing Elijah

After losing Elijah, everything looked different.

Grief became a lens that revealed what truly mattered —

but it also made everything sharper, more raw, more exposed.

The smallest comments could pierce like arrows.

People meant well, but even kindness sometimes felt like too much.

I couldn’t do the things I used to do.

I couldn’t show up, pretend, or make small talk.

For a long time, the safest place I knew was solitude.

And in that quiet, something started to shift.

I began to see how often I had lived by saying yes when I meant no —

how often I’d explained myself just to be understood,

instead of honoring what I truly needed.

🌼 Grief stripped away my ability to people-please.

My pain was louder than my guilt,

and for once, it guided me toward what was real.

I started saying no — even when it felt uncomfortable.

I stopped explaining why I couldn’t show up,

and began to trust that protecting my peace didn’t require permission.

I realized how many times I had carried everyone else’s comfort

while abandoning my own.

And through that, I started to see my worth differently —

not through what I gave,

but through the truth I allowed myself to keep.

💔 When People Tried to Help

There were people who didn’t understand.

They wanted to help by pulling me forward —

saying things like, “You need to get out,” or “You should keep busy.”

But I couldn’t.

I didn’t want to be fixed.

I just needed to be.

And then there were others — rare and precious —

who didn’t say much at all.

They just sat beside me in the ache,

listening without needing to respond.

Those moments of quiet understanding — those were the ones that helped me breathe.

Because grief doesn’t need advice.

It just needs space.

🌾 When Pain Is Compared Instead of Seen

In grief, people want to connect.

They want to show they understand.

But sometimes that comes out as comparison —

“I get it,” “I know how you feel,” or “I’ve been through something similar.”

I’ve learned that pain doesn’t need to be measured to be real.

We don’t have to compare wounds to validate them.

When people compared their struggles to mine, even with love, it hurt.

It made me feel unseen.

Because you can’t compare one kind of ache to another —

especially when one is the loss of a child.

Grief isn’t a contest.

It’s a landscape we each walk in our own way.

The most healing words aren’t “I know how you feel.”

They’re “I don’t — but I’m here.”

As Brené Brown says:

“We need to dispel the myth that empathy is ‘walking in someone else’s shoes.’ Rather than walking in your shoes, I need to learn how to listen to the story you tell about what it’s like in your shoes — and believe you even when it doesn’t match my experiences.”

That truth has stayed with me.

Because so often, instead of listening, we try to make someone’s story fit into our own.

We relate it back to what we’ve lived, hoping it will bring us closer —

but it actually pulls us away.

💛 And God, it feels so good when someone simply validates your feelings.

When they don’t try to fix you, change you, or compare their pain to yours —

they just believe you.

That’s when healing begins —

in the pause,

in the presence,

in the quiet acknowledgment that what you feel is real.

🙏 When Words Become Understanding

Not long ago, a client shared with me about losing his brother.

As I listened, I found myself saying softly,

“I’ve never lost a sibling, so I can’t possibly know what that feels like.

I can only imagine how hard that must have been for you.”

He stopped and looked at me — really looked — and repeated my words back.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “No one’s ever said that to me.”

That moment stayed with me.

Because sometimes the deepest healing happens

not in our advice,

but in our willingness to simply see someone —

to let their story be theirs,

without trying to fit it into our own.

🌙 Still Learning

Even now, I’m still learning.

I still catch myself taking things personally,

still noticing my old patterns of people-pleasing trying to return.

But I’m learning that self-care doesn’t always look like action —

sometimes it looks like allowing.

Adjusting the lens isn’t about forcing a brighter view.

It’s about seeing more truthfully.

It’s about softening your gaze

until compassion becomes the focus.

✨ Sometimes the bravest thing we can do

is to stay present with what is,

without needing to fix —

or be fixed.

And so I ask again…

What do you see? 👁️🐝

🐝 #DropOfNectar #ThePause #WhatDoYouSee #EnlivenTheSenses #CompassionWithBoundaries #MindfulMoments #BusyBusyBeeDesigns

© Busy Busy Bee Designs 🌿