hummingwolf (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hummingwolf) wrote2002-01-15 05:24 pm
hummingwolf) wrote2002-01-15 05:24 pm
Entry tags:
choice
For so many of the years that I've had fibro, I've been praying to God to let me know what it was I was supposed to be doing, since I couldn't do the things I had planned, the things I was formerly good at and took for granted I'd be doing in the future. Nowadays I'm looking at my life and bewailing my lack of choices. Whining because I see only one road before me. But isn't this foolish of me? After all, if I have no other options, then the options that are left to me must be what I should be doing. How ungrateful of me to complain.
Then again, it's silly in a way to say that I have no options. Any day, I could decide to lie down on the railroad tracks in front of one of those trains loaded with corn oil and sulfuric acid. I don't. I could decide to throw a housemate's Volvo parts through the next-door neighbors' window and steal their latest sculptures of tormented souls. I don't. I could strip naked and stagger through The Gap singing "Yabba Dabbada Doodle!" at the top of my lungs to the tune of "Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer." I don't even consider it. The fact that I ignore all these options every day certainly doesn't change the fact that they are there. The fact that I ignore all these options every day without even realizing that I'm making those choices leaves me wondering what good options there might be that I routinely ignore. And since life has clearly shown me that I'm not meant to be a normal person, those choices nobody thinks of are almost certainly the choices that I need to be consciously making. So once again I'm left wondering: What is it that I'm supposed to be doing?
Then again, it's silly in a way to say that I have no options. Any day, I could decide to lie down on the railroad tracks in front of one of those trains loaded with corn oil and sulfuric acid. I don't. I could decide to throw a housemate's Volvo parts through the next-door neighbors' window and steal their latest sculptures of tormented souls. I don't. I could strip naked and stagger through The Gap singing "Yabba Dabbada Doodle!" at the top of my lungs to the tune of "Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer." I don't even consider it. The fact that I ignore all these options every day certainly doesn't change the fact that they are there. The fact that I ignore all these options every day without even realizing that I'm making those choices leaves me wondering what good options there might be that I routinely ignore. And since life has clearly shown me that I'm not meant to be a normal person, those choices nobody thinks of are almost certainly the choices that I need to be consciously making. So once again I'm left wondering: What is it that I'm supposed to be doing?