Some of this, of course, comes from that bloating combination of grass-is-always-greener, I-deserve-better, why-do-I-suck-at-decision-making thought process. All of this is at play, but I can't get over wanting fewer options. Couldn't someone tell me what to get? Do I have to make a choice? Can someone just tell me what to do?
And this is my life: Can't someone just tell me what to do?!
Sometimes I wish the options were gone. Sometimes I take the server's first recommendation. Sometimes I choose a place that only serves chicken (which, conveniently enough, also has AMAZING sweet tea...). I think I wrote this whole blog post only to come to the realization that Raising Cane's is indeed the perfect restaurant...
Life really would be simpler if there were fewer options. I wouldn't spend so much time staring into my closet or reading all the labels in the store or checking Amazon reviews from people I've never met and who probably are liars anyway.
I might even be happier. It might be lovely to never worry about making the wrong decisions because all the decisions were made for me. It might be beautiful to avoid division and conflict because everything was decided by another.
So, sometimes I wish that someone would just tell me what to do. What should I chose? What am I supposed to do? Where do I belong?
But this isn't how the world works. This isn't how life works. Every moment is expanding, bursting with an infinite number of possibilities--and many of these are left to my choices.
And somehow, I guess, this is better. This is the way it's supposed to be. Maybe we're supposed to struggle, to wrestle with the options, sometimes to get pinned to the ground, and sometimes to jump off the floor, triumphant, stronger. Somehow this confusion and frustration lead to beautiful discoveries. Sometimes you do find where you belong. Sometimes you do find what you were meant to do, who you were meant to be.
And this doesn't happen by having everything decided for you. The truth is: I do want choices. I do want to find my way sometimes rather than have it shown to me. I want to wander through the vacant lots and the Victorian gardens until I decide to sit in just the right meadow.
Sometimes I want to pick everything.
It turns out, leaving everything to fate allows you to relinquish responsibility, but it also denies you the joy of really living. At the end of the day, even if you surrender to an external choice, the surrendering itself is a choice.
So, I want this to be a place for decisions. I've come to a place of options, and in the options there are many lives.
Here is a place for choosing.