The Decision

Decisions, Decisions

I have attempted, at least five times this week, to write about decisions.

Mostly because I hate them.

And I hoped the process of writing would somehow magically make me better at them.

It didn’t.

Everything I wrote felt either inauthentic or shaming. I could talk all I wanted about how a “good enough” decision is better than no decision, but that didn’t remove the knots from my stomach when faced with the choices in front of me.

The Search For Peace

Tonight I went to church hoping to find peace amidst my internal chaos.

The music played and I wrote. Emotions. Fears. Ideas. Discombobulated thoughts and pictures ran through my brain and splattering onto the page.

At one point, I got frustrated: “I hate that I’m so bad at decisions.”

At that moment, light switched on, illuminating a room inside me. I saw my indecisive little heart hidden behind a door, suffocating under the pressure to choose, and locked away because of my own shame and hatred of it.

I despised the indecisive part of me.

Suddenly, I saw how desperately my heart ached for love even in its inability to choose.

I’d been pressuring and burdening myself, withholding love until I could “get it together.” I used every tactic in the book. Raise the stakes. Compare myself. Accuse my indecisiveness. Name call. Shame my flaws.

None of them worked.

I needed love.

The Decision

I opened the door and love came pouring in. Thick waves of love and comfort and peace over every area I’d been ashamed of.

I loved myself outside of my choices.

I loved myself in spite of my flaws.

I loved myself even if I didn’t choose. Even if I disappointed everyone. Even if I let those I care about down. Even if I delayed my dreams or made a mistake or failed.

Because I am still me. And I am worthy of love.

“Here’s what is truly at the heart of wholeheartedness: Worthy now, not if, not when, we’re worthy of love and belonging now. Right this minute. As is.”
― Brené Brown

And suddenly, the crushing anxiety on my chest lifted and the decision that weighed a million pounds felt light as a feather.

The “decision” causing me anxiety wasn’t the issue at all.

In actuality, it was another decision that was at the root of my pain. The decision to withhold love from myself for any reason.

So I’ve made my decision.

Love gets to stay.