Becoming Mindful — Changing Our Glasses

Part 1

Mindfulness is like putting on a new pair of glasses or switching the lens through which we see the world. It’s a simple yet transformative act, though its simplicity can often be misunderstood. When trauma exists in our past, the lens we look through becomes skewed, distorted, or even cracked. As children, our perceptions are shaped by the environment around us, and we tend to internalize the chaos or love we experience. A child who is nurtured and cherished often grows with a sense of belonging, seeing themselves as the light in their parents’ world. But when abuse, neglect, or dysfunction dominates, the child absorbs those messages too—messages that are often deeply damaging and untrue.

For me, the lens I wore as a child was shaped by emotional absence, spiritual emptiness, and inappropriate physical contact that no child should endure. Each of these experiences rewired my understanding of the world and my place within it. The human brain, particularly in childhood, is malleable, constantly adapting to its surroundings. When safety and love are replaced by fear or shame, the brain rewires itself to survive, not thrive. The fight-or-flight response becomes heightened, and patterns of self-blame, hyper-vigilance, or self-neglect become the norm. It’s as though trauma leaves invisible fingerprints on the brain, creating a default mode of mistrust, guilt, or unworthiness.

Adding alcohol to the mix as a teenager added even more layers of distortion. It was like piling additional smudges onto already cloudy glasses, yet convincing myself they were clean. I thought I could see clearly, but everything I viewed—myself, others, the world—was warped by the effects of trauma, shame, and the numbing comfort of alcohol.

I used to describe myself as the black sheep of the family, and growing up in the Irish countryside, that metaphor felt painfully fitting. Black sheep stood out, often regarded as odd or unwanted—a genetic rarity in flocks of white wool. In a way, my identity as the black sheep became a coping mechanism. It was easier to believe I was different or flawed than to confront the deeper pain of rejection or the loss of innocence. But many years into my recovery, I had a conversation with a fellow Irishman that gave me a new perspective. When I shared my thoughts about being the black sheep, he smiled and said, “You were the white one.” We laughed, but his words planted a seed in my mind. What if I wasn’t the misfit I’d always believed myself to be? What if my difference wasn’t a curse but a reflection of something unique and valuable?

The way we view ourselves, others, and life events is often shaped by unconscious beliefs and automatic reactions. Trauma creates stories in our minds—stories that feel real but are often far from the truth. Becoming mindful is not just about observing these stories but about rewriting them. It’s about noticing the invisible lens we’ve been wearing and deciding to wipe it clean.

Imagine wearing cloudy glasses for years. Over time, you stop noticing the blur, assuming it’s just the way the world looks. You navigate life based on that distortion, never questioning if there’s another way. Mindfulness invites us to pause, to notice the smudges, and to see with clarity. It’s not just an act of observation; it’s an act of transformation.

For me, that transformation began with small, mindful actions. One powerful question I started asking myself was, “What story am I telling myself about this situation?” This inquiry often revealed the deep layers of BS—both the Bull Shit we tell ourselves and our entrenched Belief Systems that had taken root over the years. Many of those beliefs were inherited, absorbed, or constructed out of fear. But with each mindful pause, I began to rewrite the narrative.

Mindfulness is the practice of reclaiming our power to see, to choose, and to heal. It’s not about erasing the past but about shifting the lens through which we view it. The stories we tell ourselves can imprison us, or they can set us free. And with each moment of clarity, the lens gets cleaner, the view becomes brighter, and life begins to feel less like survival and more like living.