The power of reframing
Q: Does choosing a different view change your reality?
Last week Disco Dialogues hit four years. Thanks to our loyal readers who read our words, comment on our posts, give us feedback or engage in conversation with us in real life. Every interaction is a reminder that the effort to put our thoughts into words matter. 🙏🏽
Mitali’s Dialogue
I decided to switch the side of the street that I walk on. Seems like a minor change but it changed my perspective - both about the walk and about my mental health. I have been walking the same 3-4 routes in my neighborhood for the past five months. While the physical movement has been good for my body, my mind has been starting to complain about the monotony of this activity. After all, there are only so many ways to look at the same tree.
So last week I tried a new trick. Switching from one side of the street to the other suddenly provided a whole new perspective on my walk. Things started looking different instead of familiar. I noticed interesting architectural designs on a house that I had passed dozens of times before. A tree that I hadn’t noticed before loomed majestic in its fall colors against the grey sky. Wow, this street is so pretty. I found myself excited about my walk again. The route hadn’t changed but there was a new energy in my step.
What if I could similarly change my perspective on old narratives that are on repeat in my head? Instead of worrying about SAD (seasonal affective disorder) appearing again this winter, I started to tell myself - “My body is so wise to tune into the changing season.” Fall is when nature starts to conserve its energy. Trees drop their leaves. Squirrels hoard their acorns. Why don’t I also slow down to conserve my energy for the winter months and the upcoming chaos of the holiday season? Instead of judging the change in my energy and mood, I am trying to reframe it as something that is good for me. It’s time to challenge my existing narrative - “I am terrible at sticking to my habits in the winter”. The fact is that winter is a time of reduced sunlight and lower temperatures and some animals go into hibernation. Can I stop judging my lack of motivation and accept that my body needs to hibernate as well?
By choosing a more encouraging narrative about my body, I tell myself to yield to the changes in nature. I become more self compassionate and accept that now is the time to do less. When I shift my perspective, I get to transform negative stories that bring me down into empowering narratives that allow me to be kinder to myself. I don’t let my old narratives hold me back. I find myself moving through the day in a way that is more in line with the message that my body is sending me.
“Whether we experience what happens to us as an obstacle and enemy or as teacher and friend depends entirely on our perception of reality. It depends on our relationship with ourselves.”
- Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart
Here are some reframes I am trying on this month -
“I need to stick to my habits and move my body every day to take care of my health” → I get to enjoy my pretty neighborhood by walking in the sunlight and taking in the beauty of nature around me.
“I am worried about having another episode of SAD this winter” → My body is wise and telling me that it is time to slow down and be kind to myself.
“I am anxious about the future of my special needs son who is a high school senior. I am not doing enough to help him find his path after high school” → I am a loving mother who trusts in the process. I believe that his path will be uncovered slowly but surely through my continued support and love.
Kinnari’s Dialogue
Mitali and I were brainstorming topics for our post when she brought up the idea of changing the narrative in our head by picking a different perspective. So through last week I looked for opportunities to reframe how I was looking at things.
“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”
- Marcel Proust
A few days ago, I woke up with pain in my lower back—probably from lifting weights or from contorting myself in my toddler’s bed the night before. I assumed it would ease up in a day, but four days later the pain is still there. I don’t remember ever feeling this kind of pain, so it’s been a little unsettling. I turned a year older last weekend, and part of me wondered if this was what getting older feels like. It’s frustrating - I can’t work out, can’t lift my toddler, and have to move at half the pace that I’m used to.
Yesterday, I even had to cancel a family play date I’d planned ages ago—one that probably won’t happen again until next year. But as I sat at the kitchen table, I realized it was the first day in over four weeks where I had absolutely nothing on my calendar. And instead of worrying about aging or losing momentum on my workouts, like Mitali, I chose to take this as a sign from my body to slow down.
It was lovely to stay home, watch the Alcaraz–Sinner final with my husband, do a puzzle with my older kid, and curl up on the couch with my younger one. It also gave me a chance to fully understand my husband’s pain. He’s been suffering through back pain on and off for several years and has asked me on multiple occasions to cut things out of our social calendar and minimize travel. My understanding of his requests was theoretical before and now with this small episode of having to slow down myself, it’s given me a much deeper perspective of what he’s been dealing with.
Last Friday I was seated in a dim San Francisco speakeasy looking at two very different scenes. Straight ahead - harsh fluorescent light, a bathroom sign. A few degrees left - a bar drenched in soft red lantern light. Same seat, same moment - entirely different ambiance. Sitting there, I was reminded that often switching what you look at can make all the difference. The view with the fluorescent light didn’t disappear, but neither did one with the red glow. Instead of spending energy getting annoyed and having a discussion about how the owners could have cut out the fluorescent light or closed that curtain, I just shifted slightly in my seat and picked the view I enjoyed more.
In less than two weeks, I’ll be getting on a plane with my mischievous, high-energy, never-sits-still toddler and flying 20+ hours to see my parents. I’m dreading the flight—anxious about doing it solo, wondering how I’ll get her through two long legs and a short layover. Once we land, there will be jet lag to conquer, new people for her to adjust to, and late-night meetings for me to keep up with work, all while not having her Dad and sister around to help.
I could focus on how hard all of this will be. But instead, I’m choosing to focus on other things that are also true:
I get to go to India and spend quality time with my mom who can no longer travel
My toddler gets rare 1:1 time and attention from me
I get to step into my old life and reconnect with high school friends
I’m lucky to work for a company that gives me the flexibility to work from anywhere for a few weeks each year.
What is one situation you could reframe this week by choosing a different lens?