I’ve always believed that there are no “right” decisions in life. You weigh the pros and the cons. You decide. And you move on. Spending the rest of your life thinking that you maybe made the wrong decision and regretting your choice is a waste of time.
I believe that the only way to get through life is to decide and then make that decision be the right one. You deal. As Tim Gunn says, you take what you have and you make it work. And if it doesn’t turn out quite right, then you make a new decision and you move on. Not back. On.
My sister fully believes that everything in life happens for a reason. And there are people who will tell you that God shuts doors to make you look around to find open windows. Now I’m not the most religious of people (In fact, it might be possible that I’m still on a break from religion. Working for a synagogue for six years does things to your faith.), but I like that notion. It means that when things don’t go quite as planned, you can look around you and see what other options and opportunities have materialized instead of wailing about the change.
I’ve made a ton of changes to my life in the last year and a half. I’ve entertained more than half a dozen new careers. I’ve thrown myself at challenges and obstacles. I’ve piled on the work, at times making myself sick from exhaustion. And now that I’m at a place where I’m finally able to start sifting through the wreckage of what I’ve made of my life, I’m having to fight the notion that this past year and a half was one big failure and a waste of my time.
Just because it’s not all turning out to be worthwhile doesn’t mean it didn’t serve it’s purpose. And just because none of it made me rich doesn’t mean it didn’t have value.
I wrote a book. I tried a few careers. I learned a ton about myself. I matured. I made some great friends. I regained my sense of self worth and self appreciation. I’ve extended myself in directions I didn’t know even existed.
Sure I’m stressed. Fine that stress has caused me to break out in an undiagnosable rash. But I’m OK with that. It’s my body’s way of saying “OK, enough with the experimenting. It’s time to close a few windows and focus on what’s in the room.”
I chose a door and opened it before stepping through it.It might not be the room I thought I’d find myself in, but it’s a good place and I’m going to stay here for a while, see if I can make it mine.