I worked at Borland, which means, I worked with highly capable engineers who were accustomed to doing things right. I once got a very friendly, but very earnest, lecture about the half-glass phenomenon: the point is not whether the glass is half-full or half-empty.
The problem is, the glass was not designed for that amount of water. You either have to fill the glass,
… or use a vessel that’s designed to hold that quantity.
The whole half-glass thing drives them crazy. It’s not a matter of attitude, it’s just bad design!
I love engineers. There’s something adorable about the way they storm the gates of Accuracy, convinced it’s the same as Truth.
At first glance, that attitude looks silly at times. On deeper thought, they’re usually right.
I was thinking about the engineering approach to the half-glass issue, while my subconscious was still bathed in reflections on Rosalie.
I realized that the engineering approach is exactly what those of us with crippling disease have to do: our glasses, our outward lives, were designed to hold a lot more than we’ve got right now.
We either have to build up what we have to put into it, or we need to use a smaller glass. A significant disparity between what our lives can hold, and what they do hold, is depressing. They need to match up better.
Rosalie alternated, and I think all of us with chronic disease (and determination) do that as well. Sometimes we can build ourselves up, and expand what we can put into that glass; sometimes we adjust our expectations and commitments, making the glass smaller so that the contents fit.
I like this image, because it reminds me that I can do either thing. When pushing against my limits doesn’t work, when I really can’t get another drop of water into that glass, I can pull back my expectations and switch to a smaller glass.
By now, I have mental cupboards full of wildly mismatched drinkware – a glass for every occasion, for every level of function so far.
|The one on the right is for when my hands don’t work.|
“My cup runneth over” takes on a new meaning now, doesn’t it? When it does, I’ll reach for a bigger glass.