When I have a topsy-turvy week like this one, where every single day is outside my normal routine and the choices I’m faced with are out of the ordinary, I turn to one simple statement to ease my way:
Seriously, I say this out loud to myself. Cammy, own your choices. In the car, of course, and quietly if the windows are down, but I say it.
Call me silly if you’d like, but this simple mantra helps me stay honest with myself when I’m deciding on what to order for lunch or whether or not I should skip the workout that day. It reminds me that I am the one in charge of my life. I may not be able to control the environments or situations I’m in, but I am the only one making the choices once I’m there.
The downside, of course, is that I am the only one making the choices once I’m there. I have been known to make the less-than-optimal choice from time to time. On rare occasions (thank goodness), the choice I make is pitiful. And some of my choices fall into the land of in between. Owning my choices means I can’t blame them on anyone else or on the situation, which is only fair, when you think about it, because I’m not giving anyone else credit for my great choices.
For me, living this way (most of the time) eliminates the restrictive feelings I had in days past when I tried to live this way. It’s very freeing to view situations, opportunities, or events as big ol’ choice fests. It doesn’t matter what a hostess serves at a party; I choose how much (or how little) of it to eat. It doesn’t matter if my work schedule interferes with my workout schedule; I choose what to do (or not do) about that. I accept that sometimes my choices will be helpful, and sometimes they won’t. But they will be my choices. Even when they look like this:
Actually, this was an in between: sugar-free strawberry banana yogurt with two squishes of hot fudge sauce. It’s also an excellent opportunity to underscore my point about choice. Note the size of the cup offered by Sweet CeCe’s. Now note the empty space in my cup. The choice of how much yogurt to serve was mine, and mine alone, and I chose to ignore the size of the cup.
As far as the extra squish of hot fudge sauce? Would you believe me if I told you that the clerk dashed across the store and jammed her hand down on mine so that I got a full squish instead of the half squish I initially intended?
Didn’t think you would. And for good reason. That was my choice too–a delicious one, I might add! Fortunately, I also chose to go to the gym that afternoon, even though it was the beginning of the gym rush hour.
Making the “right” choice isn’t always easy, or even desirable, but to me, the important thing is to accept that there is almost always a choice to be made. It’s up to us to own those choices and live with them in peace. Otherwise, our choices own us, and that’s not the path to lasting change. Or, I should say, it wasn’t my path.
You can choose to disagree, of course.
Or you can choose to look at my new siblings:
You can tell we are related since these guys like to eat a lot, too.
My parents (and Memaw) are very proud. You’d think they’d hatched them themselves, as opposed to just spending my future inheritance on meal worms for a bunch of birds that aren’t going to take care of them in their old age.