It’s that time again, one of those moments in life where I can’t have it all and have to choose between option A or B. I tend to overanalyze decisions like these, causing myself more stress than necessary. I also tend to question if I’ve made the right call, well after I’ve chosen. I’m way better at both now than I used to be, but I’m still my own worst enemy.
I’ve been telling myself all my life that choices are good, just as I remind friends and family members when they face them. We all know that’s true, but it doesn’t really help much. This time I had two good choices, with no real downside. But I still had to turn a good choice away. I had to decide between a path where I was comfortable and a path which would make me stretch. I had fully rationalized why the comfortable path was the right one. Luckily, a good friend saw straight through my logic, though I’m not sure how. I had laid out my thought process so carefully to her that I was stunned when she came to the wrong conclusion. But she did, telling me it sounded like I already knew what I should do.
So, like so many other big decisions I’ve made, I chose the course which I believe will stretch me the most. I’ve always done that, and I’m not sure why. My husband has never understood it. All I know is there’s an obvious upside to that drive. So I tell myself yet again to ignore the discomfort and the nerves and the fear, that my track record is not one of failure, that it takes tackling the unknown to grow. I don’t expect to ever become fearless, but I guess I am finally–almost–getting comfortable being uncomfortable.
“If you come to a fork in the road, take it.” –Yogi Berra