Choices

On Sunday, I read an awesome Slice of Life Challenge blog about the fact that we have a choice what stories we tell ourselves. I should be bookmarking the blogs I like so I can come back to them later.

​Maybe after this when I comment on other people's work, I'll see their blog name and I can come back to this post and credit them properly. Maybe that person will actually read this post or someone else will read this post and will leave the author's name in the comment section. Fingers crossed!

​Yesterday, I had many choices to make. When I awoke at 3:30 AM, I chose to stay in bed until 4:00 because I didn't want to wake my oldest son who was sleeping in our living room because we're renovating our upstairs before 4:00! Like there's really any difference between 3:30 and 4:00.

For my writing block, I chose to work on my upcoming VSLA presentation because although the presentation isn't until the 18th, the slide deck is due this Friday.

Instead of writing my SOL post immediately after school, I chose to write my morning work and today's schedule on the board, straighten the mess on my desk a bit, and leave.

Why? Because Anders was still home and I wanted as much time with him as possible.

I could have titled this post Family First. It's alliterative and is a message everyone can get behind.

But for me, choosing not to write yesterday's post, was something much bigger than that.

Choosing not to write yesterday's post meant accepting that I am not perfect.

Choosing not to write yesterday's post meant accepting that I cannot be all things to all people.

Choosing not to write yesterday's post meant accepting that I cannot always do everything I want.

When I signed up for this challenge, for me it wasn't a challenge to write every day. I already do that. For me it was a challenge, to have fun. To write just for the sake of writing. 

I had a choice to make when I signed up for SOL. Not sign up knowing that it would make my imperfection public, or sign up, have fun, and accept that I am human.

I choose imperfection, joy and acceptance.

Thanks for coming on my journey with me, and thanks again to the Slicer who reminded us all that we can choose what stories we tell ourselves.