The Snow Globe Effect

Of course I was never going to be the same after a storm like this.

Photo by Natalie on Unsplash

“Have you heard about The Snow Globe effect?” my psychologist asks, midway through our latest session, right about the time I was starting yet another spiral about the complexity of my feelings on having cancer and why I can’t quite find my way in this new world.

She reaches off screen and pulls a small plastic snow globe into focus. As a specialist in oncology, she must use the snow globe analogy enough to know she always needs one close.

“I want you to imagine this snow globe is your life” she says as she holds it close to screen.

She gives me a few seconds to take it in before she starts to shakes the cylinder.

“And then suddenly you’re diagnosed with cancer.”

Shake. Shake. Shake. Shake. Shake.

And stop.

The cylinder stops in her hands, but the snow flakes continue to fall.

“Now,” she says, “imagine all those little bits of snow are your values and priorities. Cancer has thrown them all up in the air and now, none of them are settling where they were before.”

The flakes keep falling.

“The things that used to matter don’t matter any more, and some of the things that didn’t really matter, now do.”

And with that little analogy, she took everything I was feeling and not quite understanding, and turned it into sense.

Of course I was never going to be the same after a storm like this. Of course it was going to take time to adjust and rebuild.

We keep talking, and the flakes of the snow globe keep landing slowly and softly, slowly and softly.

A little reminder again of why this all feels so hard. Of why it’s taking so long. And that just like any of other storm, a reminder that the the best way to get through is not to fight it; it’s to find a safe space, move slowly, get good people around and wait for it to pass.

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You can learn more about The Snow Globe Effect here.