Life rarely follows a script. I map out my plans, draft my intentions, and envision the endings I want, yet somehow, the story I’m living seems to always take creative liberties with the plot. Unexpected twists, moments of sheer beauty, and the occasional heartbreak scatter themselves across the pages, often leaving me wondering who’s holding the pen.
I think about this often—what if I could rewrite the ending of a chapter in my life? One that feels incomplete or concluded in a way that didn’t sit quite right with my heart. What would I do differently? Would I turn heartbreak into a love story? Rewrite a goodbye into a hello? Or maybe, instead of longing for a different outcome, I’d let the chapter stay as it is and embrace the lessons it taught me.
There are moments in my life I wish had gone differently—decisions I replay in my mind, imagining alternate outcomes. But the truth is, I know the endings that matter most are the ones I haven’t lived yet. Those are the ones I still have the power to create.
I’ve come to realize that every single day is a chance to begin a new page. I’m learning to sit with uncertainty, to let go of the need for everything to be planned. I must trust that my story is mine to shape. Life throws its fair share of surprises my way, but even then, I get to decide how I’ll respond, how I’ll feel, and what meaning I’ll take from it. No matter what, I want my story to reflect the love, resilience, passion, and joy that comes from knowing I’m living as my truest self.
I’m writing my own ending. If something feels unresolved, I’m writing the closure I deserve. If I’ve left a dream gathering dust, I’m bringing it back to life. And when I look in the mirror, I want to see the person I’ve always aspired to be—not someone waiting for the perfect moment, but someone who chose to begin again.
Right now, I’m at a crossroads, aware that I need to start making decisions about what I truly want—decisions that will shape the first day of the rest of my life. It’s daunting, and I know I’m not ready.
Perhaps, readiness isn’t something that arrives fully formed. Maybe it’s less about feeling perfectly prepared and more about having the courage to take the first step, even when you’re not sure of the outcome. But admitting that I’m not ready feels significant, too—it’s an acknowledgment of where I am, and it gives me space to reflect, without pressuring myself to rush into answers.
I have choices to make and paths to explore, yet also I realize that uncertainty doesn’t mean failure. It means I’m still growing, still learning, and still trying to define what truly matters to me. It’s okay to not have it all figured out right now. Life is messy, so, sometimes the first decision is simply to give myself permission to not be ready—but to keep moving forward anyway.
December 21, 2024
Knowing and saying that you aren’t ready is a courageous act in itself, and a good start, although it’s also surprising to me. You’ve already lived such a courageous life, shown so much strength and resolve, but then I think that nothing in life is certain for any of us. That brings to mind some wisdom from W.H. Auden:
The sense of danger must not disappear:
The way is certainly both short and steep,
However gradual it looks from here;
Look if you like, but you will have to leap.