(don’t worry, this isn’t all about lovey dovey gooeyness).
When I choose A it means that, at least for now, I sacrifice B. This has always scared me. I want to be everything, and so I am nothing. The fear that choosing to be a _____ means I won’t be a _____ paralyses me.
I am still working on that.
In this day and age, in this country, I have a plethora of choice. I can choose who I marry, I can choose where I live, how I dress, where I work, how I work, when I work, who I sit next to… how I raise my children. These are my freedoms. But some of them hold great responsibility. By choosing to wait to feed my children until 6 months, I am sacrificing what others see as gains when feeding kids younger. Am I foolish or am I bold?
And with choice, comes intent. I believe intent and expectation can make the difference between surviving and living. I think I spend far too much of my life surviving. If you expect great things, it opens the door for great things to happen. The problem is the depth of disappointment when the great things don’t come through the door. Potential can swing both ways.
But I don’t want the risk of failure to mute me. I don’t want the knowledge that *it* may not happen to prevent an attempt to allow it to happen. That’s too easy and far more painful.
I want to live my life alive.