Reframing Our Thoughts.....

Finding Peace After the Storm

Thinking and releasing thoughts

After Kevin’s death, the world looked different. Ocean cruises—something I once loved—became unbearable. I couldn’t imagine stepping onto another ship, gazing at the vast blue horizon, without feeling overwhelmed by grief.

We had just returned from a cruise when we lost him. That memory stayed with me like a shadow, whispering, how could I ever go back there again? For a long time, I avoided it. I told myself I didn’t need to face it. But when my daughter asked us to join her on another cruise, I felt the familiar rush of anxiety, sadness, and resistance. The idea of being surrounded by laughter and the cruise atmosphere while carrying this weight felt impossible. And yet, I started to wonder whether I could experience ocean cruises differently and change the meaning I attached to them. Not to erase the pain but to let it transform into something gentler. That’s when I began to learn and welcome the power of reframing my thoughts.

The Science of Reframing

In psychology, reframing is part of what’s called cognitive restructuring, a cornerstone of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT). The idea is simple, but not easy: our thoughts shape our emotions and behaviors. When we can identify a distorted thought — too harsh, hopeless, or self-blaming —and replace it with one that’s more balanced or compassionate, we begin to change how we feel and respond.

Research by Dr. Aaron Beck, the founder of CBT, and Dr. Martin Seligman, a leader in positive psychology, shows that reframing can actually rewire the brain. When we challenge a negative thought like “I’ll never be happy again” and replace it with “I may never be the same, but I can still find moments of peace,” the brain forms new neural pathways. Over time, this practice helps restore emotional regulation, resilience, and hope.

But science aside, reframing is hard work, especially in the dark valleys of grief and depression.

When Depression Makes Reframing Feel Impossible

For someone struggling with depression, like Kevin did, reframing isn’t just difficult; it can feel impossible. There are no visible wounds, only the silent war within the mind. Depression whispers lies: You’re useless. You’re unworthy. You’re a burden.

Kevin was intelligent, kind, talented, and deeply loved. But the illness distorted his self-perception. He couldn’t see what we saw. He only saw his failures, not his gifts; his perceived inadequacies, not his enormous heart. The disease told him lies, and he believed them because depression hijacks the very system that allows us to think clearly and hope rationally.

Research shows that depression alters brain chemistry, particularly in areas like the prefrontal cortex and amygdala, which govern emotion and decision-making. The result? The mind becomes trapped in cycles of self-criticism and despair. Telling someone in that state to “just think positive” isn’t just unhelpful, but it’s cruel.

Reframing, in that context, must be gentle, supported, and gradual. It’s not about replacing pain with platitudes, but it’s about creating enough space for truth and compassion to enter.

Grief and the Battle of the Mind

Grief, too, has its own cruel thought patterns:
What if I had done more?
Why didn’t I see the signs?
I should have called, should have stayed, should have saved him.

Those “should haves” can suffocate you. They are grief’s way of trying to rewrite the past, to make sense of the unbearable.

And yet, like depression, grief distorts. It convinces you that love wasn’t enough, or that your loss is a punishment rather than the tragic outcome of an illness. That’s where reframing begins, not to erase the pain, but to see it differently.

I began to reframe the ocean not as the place that took me away from Kevin, but as a reminder of God’s vastness and mercy. I started to reframe my guilt into gratitude and am thankful that I had 12+ years to walk with Kevin through his pain, even though I couldn’t take it away.

Faith as a Framework for Reframing

Romans 12:2 reminds us: “Be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”
That transformation doesn’t happen overnight. It’s daily work—prayer, reflection, surrender. Faith helps us reframe the unthinkable through the lens of grace. As we prepare to embark on another cruise after 5 years and 8 months, I hope and trust that I can see the ocean cruises not as a symbol of loss, but as a place where I can whisper Kevin’s name, hold his love and presence, and feel God’s peace.

The Gentle Practice of Reframing

Reframing doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine. It means choosing to see a flicker of light where there was once only darkness. It means asking, What else could this mean? Or where is God in this?

For me, reframing an ocean cruise vacation with my only surviving daughter is an act of courage. It’s saying: This still hurts, but maybe it can also heal me. Maybe where the pain and trauma lie is where I will find the healing.

I will bring Kevin with me and hold all the memories and conversations I had with him on that fatal cruise. I will whisper Kevin’s name, feel the ache, but also be open to quiet peace and Kevin’s memories as I spend time with his sister and family. Ocean cruises, once symbolized painful memories, will now be a space for reflection, remembrance, and surrender. That’s the power of reframing. The pain doesn’t disappear, but it transforms.

Closing Reflection

Reframing isn’t about pretending things are okay. It doesn’t erase grief or silence the ache of depression. But sometimes, it can shift the weight just enough for us to breathe again. It can soften the edges of what feels unbearable. It can open a small window in a room we thought was sealed shut and let in the first hint of light, just enough to remind us we’re not trapped, and we’re not alone.

And sometimes, that’s where healing begins.