Choosing in Small Ways

When life changes in ways you didn’t choose, it can feel like you’ve lost your footing.

The life you were living no longer exists. The future you thought you were moving toward is suddenly gone.

That kind of change doesn’t just take away control.

It takes away who you were being.

And when that happens, feeling stuck is a normal response to identity rupture, not a personal flaw.

If you can’t go back and fix what was lost, and you can’t move forward the way you planned, it’s easy to believe there’s nothing left to decide.

The things that used to work stop working.

Effort doesn’t move things forward.

Planning doesn’t help.

And suddenly, it can feel like there’s nothing left to do.

You may not be able to change what happened.

But you still get to choose how you meet what’s here now.

Sometimes, agency looks like movement.

And sometimes, it looks like staying still, because pushing forward would cost more than you have.

In moments like this, agency is quiet and personal.

I noticed it at the end of the day.

Each night, when there was nothing left to decide and no way to influence what would come next, I chose one small thing to name with gratitude.

Instead of ending the day in frustration, I ended it on my own terms, with a decision about how I would inhabit the last moment before sleep.

A way to stay present rather than disappear into helplessness.