Decisions

Moving country is a huge decision. Meanwhile it's part of my nature to strongly question my decisions and therefore it seems an undeniable and inescapable that part of me will eventually question that decision too.

Strange, two weeks ago I was sat with a friend saying how I'd never really want to surrender my reflective side, which in reality means remain regardless of any unideal.

There's definitely an arse end, but then I mostly think and often times proddingly self-remind that there always is to anything. I suppose I both remember and regularly forget that it's just easier when there's no specific current situation, no thorn in the contours of the mind.

The truth is decisions have consequences and that's the tough bit. Guess learning isn't the same as living it; internalising not the same as the mere observation. Maybe there's an element of pure ageing - the difficult realisation that having put to rest one situation we find ourselves eyes opened again dealing with another something and all the previous lessons sorta fade and we have to work it all out anew.

I sometimes wish I had a version of blind positivity that didn't seem conditional, that I didn't need to find myself ponderously restoring. But then I wouldn't be myself, always along with all the ups and flaws this particular living caboodle brings.

So we plod on with the days. Stare our inadequacies in the eye and pass the hours with the musts and shoulds while slowly trying to take our opportunity and discern what's next. Counting the effects on us and those around on whose shoulders we so often rest.

And the questions that arise, the contortions that find their moments expression and somehow encouraged arrived require being bravely faced. Their sums need to be made and their their averages found.