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I used to think there was this invisible line connecting all the events of my life. If you were God, you could have seen it tracing from the events of the past to this moment. In this moment, it hovered uncertainly. And as I stood paralyzed, ready to step into my future, there was a next right choice. Always.
If you took the line off its intended path, what then? You miss your perfect love? Fail the people you were supposed to serve? Whatever it was you were supposed to be doing sure wasn't getting done. You were just sitting around watching tv or looking at your phone or staring out the car window to the radio and, all the while, your line was hopelessly, irreversibly off-course.
Maybe I thought this because church told us to seek and pray for God's perfect will. Maybe because I'm autistic and make things a little black-and-white sometimes. Or it could have been the obsessive-compulsive disorder ravaging my teens and young adulthood. Likely, all three.
Now, I cling to my hard-won autonomy. I can choose as I please, do what I please, without feeling guilt (if one didn't feel incredible guilt, one wouldn't bother to think this). And if you don't like it, you can take your judgments elsewhere, thank you.
Taking charge of the line through my life has been freeing but arduous. I make choices others wouldn't, choices that maybe make my life harder at times. But boundaries are a little blurred when each day feels hard. If moving through life hurts, then so many other things must be worth hurting for too, for a little while. I think they are.
Still, even without the church, there are so many things to get hung up on. I can't scroll through my Instagram feed without countless coaches trying to give me their very best and biased advice. Is it speaking to me? Is it shaming me? Am I lying to myself? The familiar thoughts come back. Autonomy still carries the price decision always has for me. And so I try to shut out all the voices, everyone's voices.
And I will do what I do, and you will not understand. But it's the journey I make, and I will try to cocoon myself softly and love myself fiercely and laugh absurdly at all the magic around me, even in the midst of it. Especially in the midst of it.