Decisions (suck).

Here I sit.  My fifth wedding anniversary and I’m pajama clad, alone.

The last two and a half months have been difficult, to say the least.  Have you noticed the way difficult times coincide with that stretching, totally uncomfortable type of personal growth?  It’s pretty annoying.

I think the trickiest part about this whole deal has been the fact that everything comes down to me.  My decision.  It has felt a little like everyone’s eyes have been watching me, waiting for me to make my choice.  To their immense credit, each of those asking eyes has had admirably silent mouths. 

Truly, nobody is pushing, questioning, or prodding.  No, “You need to do this,” or, “Do you plan on taking infinity days to sort this all out?”  Just lots of love and support.  Could I be any luckier? 

I want to tell you about my experience these last couple months.  To warn you: I’m about to get pretty long winded and maybe a little religiousy, but I want to share my authentic account.  I don’t really know why I want to, but I just do. 

Never, not even once, have I questioned whether moving out was the right choice for my relationship.  It was a do or die situation, and I’m not that interested in dying.  That is vague.  But sometimes it can be easy to choose the devil you know over the devil you don’t, something at which I’m completely awesome.  I’d been doing it for a very, very long time.

Over and over, it’s been confirmed to me that, regardless of the discomfort and sadness involved, spending this time at my parents’ is completely necessary.  Ok, great.  I knew that I’d made the right choice.  But what comes next?  I cannot tell you the amount of time I’ve spent agonizing over this question.  Such a huge, monumental, life-changing question.  One I did not feel adequate to face. 

One of my favorite tenets of my faith is that we believe in seeking personal revelation from God.  In fact, we are urged to seek direction and confirmation from God in any number of capacities (like when we’re seeking religious truth, or “ I think I want to marry this guy?”, or “Oh, awesome, I just moved into my parents’ house, that was horrifying. You approve, yes?”), but we are especially encouraged to check in with the really big, life altering types of decisions.  This is not a specifically Mormon principle, James 1:5 asks all of His children to seek answers from God.  I truly believe that Heavenly Father wants to hear from His children.  I firmly believe in this process; so many times I’ve received the guidance I was seeking.  Through it, I’ve had all sorts of peace and courage with which to face life.

So I began to ask.  So earnestly, I was asking.  And kind of begging and pleading, too. 

But I felt a whole bunch of silence.

I got a little more desperate.  I did everything I knew to do.  I began to wonder if maybe I was doing it all wrong?  Maybe if I asked differently?  Maybe I was slacking in some area? 

I started to feel really frustrated.  Have I ever asked a question with bigger consequences??  Have I ever needed guidance more than I do at this moment?!  And then I wanted to shake my fists at the heavens (never a good plan).

In retrospect, I already had my mind set.  I was asking a question, but I had my own answer that I wanted to hear.  Does this make sense?   And the silence?  Wasn’t really silence.  I began to feel the stirrings of an idea; but I stifled it.  It was crazy!  And I wanted nothing to do with it! 

I felt a lot like Jonah, from the Bible.  Remember how God called Jonah to go to Nineveh?  Jonah’s response is along the lines of, “OH! Wow!  I mean, great idea, only except I know what’s in Nineveh!  I politely decline!”  and then he floats off in a boat and gets swallowed by a whale.  I have been avoiding large bodies of water specifically because I do not feel like becoming a component of whale vomit.

So, finally, as I became as wild-eyed and frenzied about a thing as I’ve ever been about anything, ever, I did something.  I was so desperate, so completely out-of-my-mind psycho about this decision, that I dropped every single pre-conceived notion I’d been harboring.  In a sort of quiet defeat, I basically said, “I will do anything.  Just any single thing.  Please, I need guidance.”  And I really meant it.  This was the difference, I think.  I’d never actually meant it.  I kind of always meant, “I will do what you want me to! …As long as it’s what I want to do!” 

Little things began to fall into place.  Big things began to align themselves beautifully, to perfectly match themselves to that niggling idea that I’d so heartily smothered. 

“Fine,” I said, “I will do this.” 

And I began to feel peace.  Some pretty glorious, tremendously vital to my sanity, peace.

 

We are leaving to California on Sunday, the three of us, for a little vacation.  Because it feels right. 

 

I want to be clear: “Because it is right” does not mean all will be perfect.  I feel like these answers from Heavenly Father are like being shown the next step on a grand staircase- bear with me for a second- we cannot see the top, but it sure is helpful to be sure of the next step sometimes.  This is my rightful next step.  To wherever it takes us. 

For right now it’s taking us to a nice, sunshiney place where I’ll be able to get this stupid tooth out of my mouth.  (my father in law is a dentist.)  Yesssss.