The Gap – Sometimes, perspective is not as clear as it should be

The gap and the gain is a coaching tool that was introduced to me almost a decade ago. It identifies the human tendency to focus on what we haven’t achieved instead of how far we’ve come. In simpler terms, it is easier to see the glass half empty rather than half full. The older I get, the more this perspective has slowly crept into my personal life. 

Raising two children with autism, you get immune to how much time you spend in hospitals and medical clinics. Between the medications, ailments, and behaviour therapies, I have seen the inside of more hospitals in more cities than I ever thought I would. 

As I left the hospital a couple of weeks ago, my wife and oldest son were staying in for another night of testing, and I walked by a nurse pushing a young girl. At the time, I remember seeing them coming down the hallway, a little toy car stroller, and the girl looking at the fidget in her hand. Her hair was gone, which I assumed was a sign of cancer, but I tried not to stare, and as I walked by, I nodded to the nurse, and she gave a smile. Something so innocent, yet I couldn’t get it out of my mind for the rest of the day.

I rode the elevator down to the bottom floor and walked out to my vehicle, ready to head home and take over from the respite worker at our home, watching our other son. As I slammed the door, I honestly stared off through the windshield at the river in the distance and froze. I was stuck in what I call the gap.

That day, I had gotten up early to do the morning routine as my wife had been at the hospital most of the week. Usually, I am gone before the kids get up and off to work, but this week I was on morning duty for our youngest and was following the detailed (and long) script my wife had left on how not to make a mistake. Medications, feeding therapy, diapers, and then onto the bus. This feels much more like a job than parenting at this point, with a twelve and a fourteen-year-old.

As I got to work, now a couple of hours later than usual, I saw my inbox. For a guy who likes to clean out his emails, it was now full again with the last twelve hours of not looking at my phone. Ten solid hours of answering emails, talking to clients, and trying not to end up further behind than when I started the day. As I failed again this week to catch up on yesterday’s tasks, I left beaten down and tired, again.

Back to the hospital to take my wife supplies and to visit my son, who by day four was now tired of his surroundings and did not understand the why. He was clearly agitated, my wife was clearly tired and agitated, and I, to be fair, was in “poor me” mode that had been building throughout the week. Why couldn’t our lives be easier? Why does every year come and go, and by month three, I feel like I am waiting for next year to get here? As if assuming the coming year was going to get easier.

This is what I call stuck in the gap. When you enter the “poor me” phase, and you look at all the Facebook families (which are not real) and all the influencers that are travelling the globe without a responsibility in the world. In today’s age of social media, it is easy to get stuck wanting more. To look at your current circumstances and wonder how you got here.

Then I saw the little girl. She did not wake up in her own bed, eat breakfast at her family table, and then go off to school to see her friends. She was being pushed around the pediatric ward by a stranger. Was she scared? Did she know how serious things were and what the future may hold? Where was the rest of her family? Were they at work or did they just step out for a break? 

All these things flowed through my head as I stared out the window of the SUV. Then you feel guilty for feeling the way you did. At least our sons were not fighting for their lives. They were in for testing, not treatment. They were not throwing up, sick or going through radiation or chemotherapy. They are not in pain. Autism is not easy, but they still get to smile, and we don’t have to see them sick or hurting. Shame on me for being in the gap.

I did not write this for you to feel pity. In fact, quite the opposite. Somewhere, somebody in this world has it worse than you. Often, we need a reminder to get out of the gap and focus on the gain. It feels like yesterday the boys were being diagnosed, and our world was crumbling around us. Now, a decade later, we are still alive. Are things always good? Hell no, but it could always be worse as well. I am pretty sure that little girl did not look at me with pity, but why do I look in the mirror with it?

In the end, we are all going to have trials and tribulations. It is how you deal with them that will identify whether you are going to live in the gap or the gain. I don’t always choose to see the glass half full, but I also try not to see it half empty. In fact, sometimes you just need to throw the glass against the wall and get on with your day.