As Long as it WAS Not my Decision

A friend recently told me to ask myself some questions. I made time…and started to think about the questions. I started to think about my life. I started to think about my choices, my beliefs, my thoughts. I sat and wrote in my journal. I listened to the silence in the room. I listened to myself.

After about an hour I had a realization.

Thinking back to childhood, then through adolescent years, and my early twenties that I had developed a hate for making my own decisions.�� I discovered that for many life events I went with a decision based on someone else’s beliefs or ideas, or what I thought others wanted.

I started to think about all my beliefs and my thoughts through the years. I realized most (not all) of my paths taken were after getting someone else’s opinion, or not listening to my own opinion. If I like something it’s because someone else told me to. If I don’t like something it’s because someone else told me to. If I did something it was against what I really wanted.

Why had I been doing this for such a large portion of my life?

I was and I am scared to make the wrong choice. I am afraid of failing.�� I am afraid of my own voice and thoughts. Ultimately I am afraid to be me. YET…I have failed, I have picked the wrong thing, I have had bad decisions. And what happened from them?

I journeyed down another path. It was longer, darker, and scarier. It was a path that was not mine.

Everyone always says life is a journey full of different paths that you will learn from. I never understood this until now.