The book, “Man’s Search For Meaning,” by Viktor Frankl has had a profound effect on me. He knew suffering, having endured the horrors of a concentration camp and subjected to hard labor that included starvation and routine beatings. Anything I have suffered through pales in comparison. He felt that no matter what happens in life we have the freedom to choose how to respond to suffering. We have the freedom to choose our response to everything. It has taken me years to internalize this.
For me the meaning of life is to be my best self, despite limitations. I hope to make memories, and help others see their best selves. When there isn’t much to be happy about, turning to gratitude for the ability to breathe shifts my thinking. I know what it’s like to struggle for air. When I had pneumonia and fell asleep on my stomach, I woke up and discovered that I moved the canula from my nose. I struggled to find it but could not. I felt myself slipping away as I prayed for air. Thankfully I found the call device and pushed every inch of it. I have asked myself, “Why am I still alive? What am I here for? I know that each day is a gift. I hope that I can see through eyes of gratitude for the opportunity to make each day count.
I also know the mind shift that takes place when I transcend selfish desires and try to help someone else. I hope my life has meaning for my kids, my husband, my grandchildren, and my students.
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