Continental Drifts
The Art of Courageous Decisions
Standing between the life you’ve always lived and the life you’ve always dreamt of feels like standing on two continental plates that are about to drift apart. On one hand, you’re holding dearly to the life you’ve created and the tools you used to create it. After all, they got you this far. But deep down you know that their time has come and they’re no longer sufficient for the life you want to build, the one that’s seeking you. And as the other foot, the one that won’t stop shaking, tries to feel grounded in unchartered territories, you realize the step feels unfamiliar. Did you land on a rock on the edge of a mountain or just a steady solid surface?
The problem is, you can’t really explore either continent fully until you let go of one. You can’t be both, a better version of yourself and your old self at the same time. And if you don’t pick, nature has a way of making some choices for you. You’ll most likely end in the waters now formed between the continental plates, trying to swim to the next available strip of land, purposeless.
Imagine a reality where you trusted your shaking leg, enough to bring the other leg to meet it. Even if you’re standing still for a while, you’ve made a courageous decision. Maybe you try to take your first steps, only to find out that you may need to crawl before your legs are strong enough to explore everything your dreams have to offer. And off you crawl. There’s no shame in that.
You knees start to hurt but your realize your legs are stronger. You feel like a child - silly, stupid, but it doesn’t scare you anymore. You’re excited, so you keep going. You’re far from the shores now and there’s no going back. You’ve started to commit to your journey here.
When you jumped over to the other side, you inevitably had to leave some people behind. You miss them, it hurts, but they were never meant to be with you forever. And even though you always knew that, the grief still hits you like a speeding train. Sometimes you wonder whether you’re grieving the life or the people. Probably both.
In any case now, you’ve already made the choice to grow. And in the new lands you’re presently exploring, you meet new people. Some are walking, some are running, some are cross-country skiing, elegantly and with a momentum you could only hope for. The rest, well they’re on the ground, exhausted and stuck. Too scared to try anything unfamiliar. To scared to live. You promise yourself that you will always try, whatever comes out of it.
Some of the people on the ground try to tell you it won’t work, that these lands are too much - too dangerous, too scary, too wet, too rocky. It’s as if they are blind to the runners and skiers - the ones actually living. You now have a choice to make, do you join those in despair or those working towards repair? You know the answer to that.
You start to walk. Sometimes the weather gives you no choice but to stop. Not forever, for a while. Sometimes it propels you forward. No matter the forecast, your decision is already made. You’re at the point of no return. All that matters now is that you’re putting one foot in front of the other. Each step feels like an achievement. Each step IS an achievement. You became the kind of person that honors the promises they make to themselves. And no external conditions can take that away.
You keep going, and slowly, you build a new community, the kind you always imagined. You become the type of person others want to be around. Your momentum is inspiring. You’re far from done and the truth is you never will be. You look back at your journey so far. The road ahead is still long and uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, you’re proud. Proud to be YOU.
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