On a Sunday afternoon in the fall of 2009 in Poughkeepsie, New York, I decided to go for a walk to admire the color change along the banks of the Hudson River. Before leaving my apartment, I put on a light jacket and tennis shoes. Then, I grabbed the last night’s pizza box and bag of trash. I left the building and turned the corner to the dumpster. Then, everything went blank.

The next thing, I awoke feeling cold in a stark, square hospital room. I tried to look around as I heard familiar voices. I was lying in a bed covered with a flimsy, white herringbone blanket. Both my mother and my husband were sitting to my right. I heard the beeping of a monitor and several unfamiliar voices. Why was I in the hospital? How did I get here?

Apparently, as I took out the trash a thousand-pound tree limb struck me breaking my neck and leaving me unconscious. A Good Samaritan called the fire department and saved my life. I had been in the ICU for a couple of days.

Just the day before, I had been hiking in the Catskills, climbing a fire tower for a better view. I traveled a lot, hiked and kayaked when I could, and was up for just about any adventure. How did doing something so mundane stop me in my tracks?

Although my physical recovery was multiple months long and certainly painful, it was accompanied by other losses. You’ve heard the bad things come in threes. That was certainly my case. While I was in an immobilization brace after neurosurgery, I was forced to resign from my high power position as a VP of Marketing and PR. If career loss and my health in peril weren’t enough, I also discovered a trail of lies, revealing my husband’s double life. That fall, seven years ago, I lost everything I held dear.

Is there an upside to losing everything?

Contrary to the widely talked about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PSTD), I’m a living example of something called Post-Traumatic Growth (PTG). Not surprisingly in a world where the bad news gets more play than the good, I didn’t know until last year that PTG existed.

Although you may not be able to relate to a freak attack by a tree, you may be able to relate to losing your job or divorce. Trauma that shakes you to the core leaves its mark. However, my lesson from that tree was profound. The upside to any loss is perspective. When given the opportunity for a second chance on life, I had the choice to rebuild my former life or to architect a new one. I chose the latter, a Life 2.0. To share my lesson with others, I decided to write, When All Balls Drop: The Upside of Losing Everything.

Losing something, someone, or everything can be a springboard for growth. That’s why I say that I was exactly in the right place at the right time. When all the balls that I was juggling simultaneously dropped, I decided to use the trauma as a reset button. My life changed in a split second, but for the better. My life 2.0 is a truer, bolder, happier version of myself. Just like software and Smartphone apps, my upgrade to Life 2.0, improved my functionality and got rid of some bugs and glitches.

Updates aren’t just for your software and Smartphones. Life requires updates too. I wouldn’t suggest a thousand-pound tree limb, but you can chose to inject frequent doses of perspective to your life. Try getting out of town for a weekend, renting a car in an unfamiliar place, or even going a solo walkabout (mine to Patagonia pictured below). All force you to be engaged. With this focus and clarity, you look at your world differently, shifting your perspective.

My advice is get frequent doses of perspective to your life. These are little check-ins on your life, path, and mood. Don’t wait for a freak accident, doctor’s diagnosis, divorce, or job loss to force you to do it.

How will you shift your perspective today?

Come on. You must have a daily or weekly trick. I certainly do. I look forward to your comments below.

Find out more about my adventures and books by visiting www.heidisiefkas.com.