What do you do when you have a big decision to make? Do you take a walk, seek out an oracle, check your horoscope, read a fortune cookie, look for signs in the pavement, ask a six year old what they think you should do, toss a coin? I think we all have little private rituals to help our hearts along, whether we admit it or not. Personally, I try a little of everything to reveal the answers. I still shake Magic 8 balls in toy stores, asking real questions and frowning thoughtfully at the results: “Will I ever be widely published?” Shake, shake, turn. The little glowing triangle always seems to float out of the indigo water just as mystically as it did when I was ten. “You may rely on it.” YES!
I used to love a big, juicy, heavy conundrum. I liked writing out lists of pros and cons, watching the “Yes” or “No” column stack up until my answer became evident. If I was leaning one way, I could forget about the other. My father taught me the beauty of the pro and con list. Thing is, we’ve made so many big decisions in the past three years that the new ones that naturally pop up freak me out. I get hostile. I get whiny. My stomach will hurt and I’m filled with a sort of metastasizing mania. I used to never be afraid to jump into the pool, you know? Now, after years of the diving board, I’m the one who dips a toe in, testing the temperature, before finally walking down the silver ladder into the shallow end. I don’t even get my hair wet anymore.
See, in the decisions that my family and I have made together recently, the major decisions (moving to Alaska, moving back to Tennessee, staying home to raise Xander and pursue writing full-time) have not been without some significant fallout. Of course we’ve made it out of the bumps unscathed. But I’m weary, know what I mean?