It’s a Matter of Perspective
I have been out of town for the past week, and as I have settled back into my usual routines, I have been thinking about how much a change of scenery can change the way we see things.
There is something about stepping away from our familiar surroundings, schedules, responsibilities, and even our usual thought patterns that can create a little more space. In that space, we may see our own lives differently. Something that felt particularly heavy may feel a little lighter. A problem that seemed to have only one possible solution may suddenly have a few more. And something we have been feeling stuck in may not have changed at all—but our perspective on it has.
It has made me think about how often we assume that when we feel stuck, something outside of us needs to change. We need a different job, a different relationship, a different circumstance, a different answer. Sometimes that is absolutely true. There are situations in life that require action and change. But there are other times when what we need first is not a change in the situation, but a change in the way we are looking at it.
This idea resonates deeply with the work of Linda Bark and her Wisdom of the Whole approach to integrative coaching. Bark encourages us to step out of the "weeds" of a situation and see the bigger picture—to explore an experience through multiple windows rather than relying exclusively on our thinking mind. Her approach invites us to pay attention not only to our thoughts, but also to our emotions, body awareness, imagery, values, relationships, purpose, and other ways of knowing. When we are stuck, we are often looking through one window. And the view through that window may be very real—but it may not be the whole picture.
I see this often in my coaching work. When we are struggling, we can become very focused on the story we are telling ourselves: This isn't going to change. I should know what to do by now. I can't handle this. I've tried everything. This is just the way it is.
The story may contain important truths, but it may not contain the whole truth. We can become so close to an experience that we lose our ability to see the larger picture.
Interestingly, there is science behind this narrowing and broadening of perspective. Psychologist Barbara Fredrickson's broaden-and-build theory suggests that our emotional states influence the breadth of our thinking. Positive emotions such as interest, gratitude, contentment, joy, and hope can broaden our attention and expand our range of thoughts and possible actions. We may become more curious, creative, flexible, and open to alternatives. Over time, these broadened ways of thinking and responding can help us build psychological, social, and other resources that support resilience. In contrast, difficult emotional states can narrow our attention. When we are anxious, our attention may become focused on threat. When we are angry, we may see primarily what feels unfair. When we are grieving, the loss can become so enormous that it is difficult to see much beyond it. This narrowing is not a character flaw. It is part of being human.
That does not mean we should simply "think positive." I have never found that approach particularly helpful, especially when someone is experiencing grief, illness, uncertainty, or a major life transition. Pain is not something we need to put a positive spin on, and difficult circumstances do not disappear because we look at them differently. The goal is not to deny what is happening or force ourselves into a more positive interpretation. It is to become less confined by a single perspective.
Psychologists have studied this process through the concept of cognitive reappraisal—changing the way we interpret a situation in order to change its emotional impact. Neuroscience research suggests that cognitive reappraisal involves coordinated changes in brain systems involved in cognitive control and emotional processing. In other words, the way we interpret an experience can influence the way we emotionally experience it. Research on psychological flexibility points in a similar direction. Psychological flexibility is not about never experiencing difficult thoughts or emotions; it is about being able to respond to our internal experiences without becoming rigidly controlled by them while continuing to move toward what matters to us. A 2024 meta-analysis drawing on 151 studies across more than 35 countries found a substantial association between psychological inflexibility and poorer well-being.
Taken together, this research suggests that sometimes what keeps us stuck is not simply what is happening, but the belief that there is only one way to understand what is happening.
A change in perspective does not mean changing the facts. If you have lost someone you love, it does not mean pretending the loss is okay. If your health has changed, it does not mean convincing yourself that everything is fine. If you are unhappy at work, it does not mean telling yourself to be grateful and ignore what is not working. Perspective is not denial. Instead, it can mean asking, What else might also be true?
Maybe I can't do what I used to do becomes I am grieving what I used to be able to do, and I wonder what is still possible for me now. Maybe I am stuck becomes Something about the way I am approaching this isn't working. What might I be missing? Maybe This is the end becomes This is the end of something, and I don't yet know what comes next. The circumstances have not necessarily changed. But the field of possibility has.
Perhaps this is one reason travel—or even something as simple as changing our daily routine—can feel so refreshing. We temporarily interrupt patterns that have become automatic. We wake up somewhere different, take a different route, have different conversations, and notice things we do not normally notice. In doing so, we may become a little less entrenched in the stories we have been telling ourselves. We do not have to travel to create that kind of shift, though. Sometimes we can simply change the window through which we are looking.
When I notice myself—or a client—feeling stuck, I find it helpful to pause and ask a few simple questions: What am I seeing right now? What might I not be seeing? What might someone who loves me see that I cannot see right now? What would I notice if I looked at this through my body rather than only through my thoughts? What else could be true? And perhaps my favorite: If this situation were a chapter in my life rather than the whole story, what might this chapter be asking of me?
We do not always get an immediate answer. But the questions themselves may create a little space—and that space can be enough to create movement. We may see how far we have come, notice strengths we had forgotten we possessed, or recognize that what felt like a dead end is actually a crossroads. And perhaps, in that space, we remember something important: we are not the problem we are trying to solve. We are the person experiencing it. And that distinction matters.
There are certainly times when we need to change our circumstances. We need to leave an unhealthy relationship, seek medical care, set a boundary, change jobs, ask for help, or take action. But there are also circumstances we cannot immediately change: aging, grief, illness, uncertainty, waiting, relationships we cannot control, or chapters of life we did not choose. In those moments, we may have more agency than we realize—not necessarily over what is happening, but over how we relate to it and how willing we are to consider another way of seeing.
I believe that is one of the gifts of coaching. Not having someone tell us what to do, but having someone sit beside us and gently ask, What if there is another way to see this?
As I return from a week away, I am carrying with me a renewed appreciation for the value of stepping outside our ordinary patterns. We may not be able to change the circumstances of our lives, and we certainly do not need to pretend that difficult experiences are something other than what they are. But we can become curious about the perspectives we are holding. We can step back, take a breath, look through another window, and ask:
What would I see if I looked at this differently?
Perhaps that is the gift of a change in perspective: not changing what is, but changing what we are able to see within it.
