There is a concept of a unicursal line where no matter which way you go, you will end up in the same spot. The idea suggests that no matter what you choose, you will end up in the same spot so the choices we make are fairly irrelevant.  The don’t matter because no matter what the result is the same in the end. If we treat life like that, the pressure is relieved because it suggests that no matter what we choose we will always get where we are meant to be. Some may look at this as a defeatist mentality and question the futility of life but this is something that gives me hope because it takes the weight off of the every day.  Sure, we have a say in what happens, sure we can choose a different route to get there, but the unicursal line suggests that we were always meant to make that choice anyway—that we always WOULD have made that choice.  So it isn’t so much a matter of doomed to an outcome, but rather we have already played out every possibility and we would have settled on what we chose regardless so we are right where we need to be.

I fell in love with this because at this moment I am experiencing a different type of existential crisis. I’m watching the strongest people I’ve known in my life, the ones who were my guardrails, my guides, my heroes, the giants of what I thought it meant to be to LIVE, I’m witnessing them in their most human and vulnerable of states.  Of course they were always human.  They always had these states and they always had their weaknesses but witnessing the vulnerability of life is a reminder that we are all here at he same time and we will all endure the same fate at the end of the day no matter what our path looks like.  Some are granted a prettier path than others, that’s for sure, but even those with the glittery view will see the same thing in the end.  That gives  hope to a degree—we are all human and, regardless of what you believe the next step in this world is, we all return to the Earth in the end.

I spent a lifetime putting so much pressure on my decisions that I gave myself, not only decision fatigue, but I PTSD from trying to think so many steps ahead to see every possible outcome and what could happen to me.  I recently read that when we grow up in a home where there was a lot of yelling or the kids were yelled at in particular, we learn to be quiet because the smaller we are, the less noticed we are, the less chance we have of being “in danger” of being yelled at. In that regard, I can speak from experience and know this is true and it carries well into adulthood.  In full transparency I wasn’t yelled at directly very often, but I witnessed a lot of yelling in so many circumstances (yes, at myself but also at my siblings, at employees from the family business, from sibling to sibling both in the house and in the business, teacher to student, etc.) and I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that.  I wanted to be received and accepted and I didn’t want to be shunned—I already felt on the outside enough I didn’t want to add being in trouble to that equation as well.

So I chose the path of least resistance and keeping people happy in order to avoid being unhappy myself.  AT least I thought that made me happy.  It made me pliable and compliant and lost because I was small in so many ways.  When I raised my voice, no one bothered listening or that is when I was outright told I was doing something wrong so that taught me very clearly that I was….wrong.  That my opinion was wrong, that I should just keep quiet because the voice making noise belonged to someone else—not quite on the edge of seen and not heard but close enough.  I didn’t know how to reconcile it, reconcile the fact that I had ideas and knew they were good and that I came here to share ideas and simultaneously was being told to keep quiet.  SO this is my path: it doesn’t matter when I share the message because those who are meant to receive the message will get it in the right time.  I never lost my voice, I just needed to be in the right room to remember my power and to have it appreciated and, mostly, I needed to appreciate it myself.  So nothing I’ve done prior to this has damaged my ability to fulfill my purpose—I’m right on time, right on track, right where I belong.  This is it: life is now and it is everything it was supposed to be.