The lives we create are the cumulative product of our decisions big and small. In claiming the authentic stories of our lives, it’s essential to remember that we and we alone have domain over the choices we make.
For major decisions that have a significant, enduring impact on our lives, we might ask for input from close friends or family members. In matters more technical or material, we may seek the guidance of a professional whose credentials lend credence to their advice
Regardless of whether others help inform our decisions, we are sole proprietors of our power to choose.
We stand in our true power when we own and embrace this privilege fully.
We give our power away when we ask others to make decisions for us.
I was poignantly reminded of this when recently grappling with whether to acknowledge the birthday of someone with whom I’m distantly acquainted only by way of a marriage in the family. For all intents and purposes, I don’t have a relationship with said person; the source of my internal struggle stemmed from the person’s connection with a certain family member with whom I do enjoy a very close relationship.
Out of a sense of obligation to the latter, I’d recognized this individual’s birthday with the token gesture of a card and a gift in years past. Up until now, it seemed too awkward to suddenly cease and desist, but the time finally had come for me to reexamine my misguided motivation. To take the easy way out and keep sending a token greeting out of a false sense of obligation stood in direct contradiction with my commitment to live a life of complete authenticity.
But what’s the big deal with simply sending a card, you might wonder? If I offer a gift, no matter the size or subtance, I want it to be a genuine, meaningful extension of my sentiments for the recipient. It would be perfectly normal for me to spend more time at Hallmark or Papyrus in loving search for the perfect card than I might take to make dinner, to lend some perspective on the significance for me.
At first I asked a trusted friend what she would do, then another, then a family member who I sensed shared the same predicament because her relationships with the two people at hand mirror mine. It wasn’t until I asked the very person I didn’t want to hurt that I recognized that only I could decide what was right for me. The choice was mine and only mine.
After getting over my initial thirty seconds of disappointment because she didn’t tell me what to do, I was grateful to her for steering me back in line with her simple answer: Do what is right for you. She also made it clear that whatever I decided about the third party’s birthday had no bearing on our relationship. Once I got clear that only I could decide for myself, the certainty of my decision became crystal clear.
While it might be helpful to have others weigh in on our decisions or even convenient if they’d just tell us what to do at times, in the end, each of us is the singular author of the authentic story of our life.
Let’s be vigilant and fill our pens only from the inkwell of authenticity.
