Making Choices

“It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.” ~ J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Have you ever felt as though you are in a crossroads in your life, and you have to decide the road to take next, and you’re unsure as to which way to go?
Taking one path could lead to a series of life-changing events, taking another path could lead to irreparable damage, and remaining stagnant may not even be an option at this point, no matter how much you may want it to be so.
Why do things even have to change? Why can’t things, people, situations just stay the same?
I know that our lives are the sum of all the choices we have made in our past, good and bad. I have already paid a hefty price for all the poor choices that I made during my younger years, and now that I am older, and sadly, not much wiser, I am hesitant to make choices of any kind that could alter the course of my future.
I have been living happily in my little world for the last year and a half, and I am not ready for things to change, progress, or move on. I am not yet ready for the bubble to burst.
Please, God, show me a sign. 


“Keep your secrets. Keep your silence. It is a better gift than truth.” ~ Anne Rice, The Queen of the Damned 

“But secrets have their own weight, and it can be a very heavy one.” ~ Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel

photo by ♥N | 10 Feb 2013

I was putting away G’s toys the other night when I came across this.  It’s a little notebook.  I started to open it, but she yelled, “No!  Don’t read it!  It’s my private diary!  Don’t read it, ok?  It’s secret.”
What is the history of a secret?  From my perspective, secrets are born from fear — fear that the information could cause rejection, embarrassment, pain, or negative judgment.
How early does fear appear in our minds?  G is five, but yet she already knows or feels that whatever information she has written down in her private diary could result in some negative outcome if I were to read her words, otherwise she would not have cared if I opened her diary or not.
I didn’t start writing in a diary until I was ten.  Of course, my diary contained my childish desires.  I wrote of the boy who I liked, about the toys that I wanted or about the secret goals that I had.  I hid my diary from my parents because I was afraid of their reaction.  I was afraid of feeling embarrassed if they knew about my little girl crushes, or if I would be punished if they read an entry about how I hated them on particular occasions.
I think it was those secret thoughts that prompted me to start a diary.  Maybe, as humans, we are not meant to keep secrets.  Maybe secrets are a burden, and while fear may keep us from spreading the secrets, the weight of that burden still needs to be lifted from us.  And that is why we keep diaries.  Because we have to tell someone, even if it just the paper on which we write.

Old & Afraid

“When you’re young, you always feel that life hasn’t yet begun — that “life” is always scheduled to begin next week, next month, next year, after the holidays — whenever. But then suddenly you’re old and the scheduled life didn’t arrive. You find yourself asking, ‘Well then, exactly what was it I was having — that interlude — the scrambly madness — all that time I had before?” ~ Douglas Coupland, Life After God
My daughter is turning 6 in March. She is beyond excited. This morning she asked me how many days until her birthday.
“Twenty-one days, “ I answered.
“21?!?” she exclaimed. “That’s too long!”
It’s funny how when we are young, we cannot wait to get older. “When I turn      , I’ll finally be able to do                     !”
But then a shift happens. Suddenly, we want time to stop. For me, it happened when I was 29. I remember crying for two weeks before my 30th birthday. At that time, I felt as if life was all downhill from there. I knew then that my body would never be as nimble, flexible or as pliant as it once was when I was a mere 25 year old girl. I realized that I would have to start competing in the “senior division” at the Kung Fu tournaments. I also figured out that my knees had turned into a fairly accurate weather predictor. I knew from the amount of pain and pressure I would feel in my knees on any given day if precipitation was to be expected.
I became more aware of the passage of time, and how once lost, we can never get it back.
I spent most of my 20s, 8 years to be exact, loving and pining for a guy, my first love, who had left me when I was 25 and had never looked back.
I spent my 30s stuck in a loveless marriage to a man who did not deserve not even one day of my life.
And here I am now, in my early 40s, and feeling no confidence in myself or trust in my judgments. And unlike my daughter, I am not looking forward to my next birthday. In fact, instead of looking forward to the future, I would much prefer to go back in time. Back to a time when I could not wait for the future, rather than being fearful of and dreading it as I do now.
I am afraid that I will squander my 40s. I am afraid that I will wake up when I am in my 50s and realize that I still don’t know what I want out of life.
I am afraid that the issues that do not seem so important to me now, will be of paramount importance in the future, and at a time when I will no longer be able to do anything about it.
Basically, I feel old and afraid. And it’s the scariest feeling in the world.
01 Feb 2013