For years, I have always asked myself where to go next because certain things in my life always have expiration dates. The time constraint always kept me on my toes, always reminding me that before the turn of the year, I should be able to have at least decided where to go next.
The options overwhelmed me: the promising ones excited me, while the ones that never gave any cushion for experimentation worried me. And like a role-playing game but with real-life consequences, the decisions I make today ripple out to the future, rearranging the consequences and the next available option, which gives me decision paralysis as I try to make sense of all the possible outcomes and consider opportunity cost.
If my mind only operates beyond its limited understanding of my world, like Doctor Strange exploring all alternatives, I might be able to optimize my life and choose the best available alternative. But because I am no Doctor Strange and there’s no way to become all-knowing like he is, I have to face the reality that in order to move past the uncertainty, I must make a choice.
And I guess it’s in the making that makes me so afraid of failing because to fail because of something I decided to do makes me accountable for that choice.
The hard work is not finding new choices. The hard work is finding your choice.
Drowning in Options, Starving for Purpose by Joan Westenberg
And standing by it long enough to make it real.
It’s been a year since I’ve explored options, and daily, the loose ends keep closing in until the choices become narrow, demanding I make that dreaded choice I would be accountable for the rest of my life.
And so I did.
And it’s time to stand by it because I could only take action upon something I choose, and there’s no more real than the path I am standing on. And I wouldn’t know what lies beyond the fog unless I walk through it and see for myself.
jessa 