The space between your choices
Last week, someone I know had an abortion. But this isn’t about her choice or the likely overturn of Roe vs. Wade. It’s about your choices.
Think back to the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make.
One that stole your sleep, robbed your hunger, unnerved your sense of peace.
A decision that demanded you sink deep inside places long avoided, fears never shared.
Do you remember the impossibility of it all?
The incessant internal debate?
The agony of which choice to make and why?
You try to look into both futures to see which one is best for all. But it's fuzzy.
You want someone to decide for you, to decode the pros vs. cons list and tell you, ‘go that way.’
And so, cautiously you open up to conversation, lean into loved ones as sounding boards.
They weigh in. They hold you up.
They too say here, no one wins.
They don’t have the answer, so you go back inside.
If I go this way, who do I become? If I go that way, what happens next?
What else do you need? More information? More opinions? More time to think, question, doubt, yell, cry?
In and out.
Ok, it’s time to decide. You can’t stand still. You have to choose.
Bone-tired, you muster strength to stand and courage to speak.
‘There! I want to go there. That’s what I want. That’s who I am.’
Do you feel it? All of it?
The overwhelm. The exhaustion. The internal tectonic shift?
Now, imagine this space between event and decision stamped out.
No space to breathe.
No chance to think.
No options to debate.
Someone tells you where to go, what you’ll get, who you’ll become.
Now, how do you feel?