Tough choices… the most rewarding

Often times in life we’re faced with  difficult choices.
The hardest choices often the least obvious ones.
Distant Thoughts
Ending a relationship. One that feels good . It offers good things, but it’s hard. Something gets in the way.
A great job offer that isn’t quite what you were looking for.
You cannot be certain it was the right choice.
Then something else comes along … And you know
Maybe it’s that dream job
Maybe you  meet your match.
The commute gets shorter. The job makes you happy.
You feel connected in ways you never have before.
 You feel challenged. You feel successful.
Your heart races.
Your thoughts are preoccupied… with the butterflies you thought you’d never feel again. That send a current through you as you remember.
You no longer doubt it was the right decision.
You have a conviction to make the most unlikely choices.
You met in the least likely of places.
You are energized.
You are fearful, yet you’re excited.
Happy. Aroused. Connected. Playful. Enlightened.

An open letter of thanks…

Photo by Paul Wesson Photography

Have you ever ended a relationship where there was so much you had left to say, but knew it was better left alone? That to extend even one smidgen of communication was to open a door best left closed securely <with a dead bolt>?


Sometimes I just need to get things off of my chest, I write them out and then shred or burn the words away. But sometimes there are things worth hanging onto. Whether he ever knows it, I do.


I believe everything happens for a reason, we don’t always know what the reason is right away, or even at all. But there is a reason none-the-less.


I try to reflect on lessons learned and not repeat mistakes that can be avoided. Though I have noted sometimes I make the same mistakes multiple times before the lesson really becomes ingrained, or the actual depth of it becomes clear. I know that however painful life can be and is, that if I can learn something from each experience it makes it all worthwhile. No regrets. Everything I have been through has brought me to this very point… in this moment.


And so my letter follows:


This letter is one of thanks to you for being part of my life, however short and stormy, yet happy and intense a season it was.


I am thankful to you for opening my eyes to a number of important possibilities. I am at a crossroads. I have determined that there are more changes yet to come. One of the possibilities being contemplating leaving. Leaving the community I have been calling home for nearly seven years. And another being that of returning. Returning to a setting that is more my pace and atmosphere. Returning to the only place I really know as “home”.


I could have made a completely new change, but I’ve come to realize – in losing some of that newness I had been so fervently embracing with you – what I really yearn for. I yearn for the story I have living within me… to grow and to flourish. The circle of my life is bringing me back “home”.


I thank you for showing me that rushing in is not wise, even when we think we’ve found the exception. That no matter how much I want to believe, I can not actually know without taking the time to learn.


I am grateful to you for showing me that even the toughest skin can have a softness that will embrace caring – caring for me in ways that I need and want. For showing me that someone will see me as worth giving everything for.


I am grateful to myself for finally seeing the light and not sacrificing myself for the missing pieces. I thought I’d found the whole package, and yet an integral piece was still missing. You know what piece that was, and it saddened me that you could not give it to me, even as you tried.


When I have all of it – together… after slowly growing with the man I am meant to… into a relationship of trust and respect, of love and nurturing, of learning and adventure, of dreams and of really truly living, I will finally be “home” in every sense.


I am sorry that we couldn’t have that together. But I thank you for being a part of my story.


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A perfect storm?

Sometimes it takes a perfect storm, a molten lava volcanic eruption, an implosion of unrelated-yet-ever-so-connected details, to make us appreciate how good we have it.

Our starting point, the point we reflect back on, is often one of sheer happiness. A feeling of wholeness, of being complete. As time goes by we become complacent in our happy-ever-after lives, we accept gifts as simply being, we take for granted that all will remain, and over time little annoyances become big obstacles. We start to notice more and more of what isn’t working, and over-look all that is right. It doesn’t take much once we reach this point to set-off a chain reaction. The little stuff gets bigger, the big stuff insurmountable, and we blow.

If we’re lucky, we don’t step over the line, to the point of no-return. If we’re lucky, we can learn something from it. We can re-gain appreciation for the right stuff. The stuff we realize that we don’t want to, nor are we able to even fathom the thought of, living without. We can take a few steps backwards, or perhaps simply start over. We can re-energize ourselves with all that we know is right in our world, and re-focus.

From Drop Box

It happens to the best of us, it happens to the rest of us, it happens … to all of us. Sometimes it’s a new job, school, a place of residence. Sometimes it’s a relationship, a friendship, a romance. Sometimes is simply a state of being. We live, we love, we ___??? What I do know is that if the anticipation of loss accentuates the desire to make it better… If it yields an internal reaction that is strong enough. Intense enough to generate physical reactions. It’s worth looking deep within and taking stock. Just what is lost? Or could be? Just what can be renewed, revived, re-lived? Is it worth losing? Is it time to move on? Or is this simply the rebirth, regeneration, revitalizing inspiration needed to take it to the next level?

As cliché as it may be, we often need that push to move us in the right direction. It opens our ears to listen, it opens our eyes to see what is in front of us, it opens our minds to consider more. And then we must choose. Do we go on? Do we build something bigger and better? Can we weather the storm better next time around if we do?

If I’ve made the right choices leading up to this moment, in most cases the answer will be clear and obvious and right. If I haven’t, I may have another storm to ride out sooner, rather than later.

How do you weather the storms? What do you do to make every experience a part of the journey?