The importance of a decision

Every moment of my life, is a decision.
This must be true, because I am here.
I am here, because I chose to get out of bed this morning.
I put on clothes, walk to the next place I decide to be,
and begin doing my next thing.

I mean, break it down...
Are there times when I chose NOT to get out of bed?
of course there is.
In fact, pretending it is NOT a choice, doesn't diminish the truth.

I know now, that I am capable of feeling so heavy inside,
it is possible to NOT choose to get out of bed for weeks.
It is in that choice I learned something about myself.
I can, without even trying hard, get myself "stuck" in a place with very few exits.
No exit signs over the door, well, maybe i can't see them, because I'm in the dark.
Why am I in the dark? Is it because there is no light?
Or is it because my eyes are closed too tightly?

There came a time when I knew I couldn't spend the rest of my life in bed,
not functioning, despairing, almost.... without hope... not wanting to feel.
Skipping life, as easily as skipping class in school. Just don't show up.
Just don't engage. instead, choose to feel the pain.... that's it,
I'll give myself permission to feel the emotional pain I'm experiencing.
Then what? How long do I choose to live in this dark limbo?
Weeks later... I decided, I could get out of bed,
and respond to the help offered so lovingly from my husband, and friends.
I began then to chose to leave what numbed me.
Wasted hours and days and weeks of life, I just never showed up for life.

I broke it down.... slip my legs over the edge of the mattress, touch floor with feet,
take a step, repeat steps to the next place I want to be. Repeat....until I cared about myself and someone else enough, to take the baby steps up and out of the dark places I hid in.
Those little steps led to larger steps, then , skips and sometimes even strides in the journey.
I'm walking again, sometimes slow, and sometimes skipping along, enjoying the motion.
I took myself to places of help, where someone could listen, ask important questions I did not chose to ask myself. And show me the exit signs. My choice was to walk toward them,
grasp the door handle (or on occasion push) to get through the pain, and back into life.

I'm breathing again. (the circumstances which put me into bed, remain unchanged)
The only thing I've learned from this experience is: I needed to stop putting on a brave face, for others who asked about my sadness. I needed to grieve the unilateral loss of a relationship with my daughter. And after letting myself feel that pain, I found that I didn't want to live there anymore. So I chose.... Life is a choice.




Do I own my decisions? not always...