Reframing Negative Experiences as Opportunities

From basement to bliss!

A few weeks ago a sudden heavy rain flooded my writing area in our unfinished basement. As we’d gotten water in our basement before, I’d moved my books away from the wall and under a shelf to protect them from water. Somehow the pressure of the water (or some other unknown force) propelled the water, saturating my beloved writing resources, some of which were personally inscribed at writing conferences. To make matters worse, I’d just gotten two new large area rugs and a beautiful tapestry to create a more inspiring space in which to write–also casualties of the tsunami. 

So you can imagine my devastation as I tried to preserve the soggy mess, only to discover they were not salvageable. I patted and massaged them. I opened and spread each one out in the fresh air, hoping they’d dry out and spring back to life, but they remained limp and grew mold. I mourned the sudden demise of my books and contemplated giving them a proper burial in my yard, perhaps with tiny sentimental headstones. Not wanting to alarm my neighbors or spark serial killer rumors, I photographed each one, preserving their memories.

At first, I figured it must be a sign to give up writing altogether. Here I was trying to create a space to nurture my writing and my efforts ended in ruin. Why even bother? 

Then I challenged myself to view it in a positive light. I recalled how devastated I was to walk away from my teaching position ten years ago, but how that decision opened up new opportunities as a writing tutor and a mental health advocate. I’ve learned the ability to pivot is essential, because loss is inevitable. What matters most is how to reframe and move forward—how to utilize setbacks to build meaning and momentum out of heartache and hopelessness. 

Maybe this loss was not a sign to give up writing, but to move to a better and safer space. We have a spare bedroom upstairs that is rarely used. Maybe I could transform that room into an inspiring (and dry!) writing space—no more concrete, cobwebs, and mold. Fresh air instead of the stench of wet, turd-filled kitty litter. To read and write by natural light with a view of our fresh landscaping. Maybe I needed to lose much in order to gain more. 

This shift in thinking moved me from defeat to power, from futility to action. With my husband’s help, I cleared out the trundle bed, piles of old clothes, extra bedding and pillows. I pitched the broken, random things whose existence I’d long forgotten–my personal island of misfit toys. I reconfigured the furniture and relocated all the writing that hadn’t been destroyed. I bought a whiteboard with new Expo pens and hung a huge bulletin board on which to display my goals, track my progress, and organize my ideas. To provide ambience and practice self-care, I added a diffuser, candle, and a new comfy chair for reading and relaxing by the window. I sprinkled in some inspiration messages and self-affirmations. I topped off my utopia with my dad’s precious tape/cd/record player, which had born witness to his writing prior to his development of Alzheimer’s and move to a care facility.

I haven’t replaced the writing resources yet, but look what I have gained! Now I call that a win! Sometimes we need to break down in order to rebuild. We need to challenge ourselves to see the lesson in loss and the hope in hardship. In fact, that is a key theme in the memoir I’m working on in my new and improved writing space!