Are you indecisive or do you make up your mind quickly?

See what I did there? That was a question AND a little test. If you took some time to decide or instantly could identify which option is you, your actions may have spoken louder than your answer.

If you are indecisive do you wish you were more inclined to choose swiftly and vice versa if you are a lickety-split chooser? I am very decisive by nature and I think it has served me well. I don’t make rash conclusions but I speedily seem to know what I like and don’t like, what is right for me and/or the situation. Of course the world is not black and white, although my vision is, but most things (cue Irony for her cameo) seem pretty clear to me and I make my choice and rarely look back.

Having said that, I am struggling to make some decisions about the look of this blog. The back and forth going on in my head is bad enough but the fact that this is not how I typically operate adds another thick, gooey layer of annoyance and frustration. What is holding me up?, I keep wondering.

Indecision can be steeped in fear: what if I make the wrong move? Even with the subjective elements in life — art, books, music, clothing, food  — it may take us some time to figure out whether it’s a thumbs up or down. Maybe you’ve made up your mind but the work ahead to execute is too daunting and so you pick the easiest choice instead of the best. If we are tired or physically ailing, that can also effect our ability to decide between two or more things. There are also times where one decision is best for us but not for the others who will also experience its impact.

I’ve heard it said that to find out how you really think about your options, you should flip a coin. As gravity pulls it to the ground, in those nanoseconds before it lands, you will know what you are hoping the outcome will be. Why do you think we’ve all done two out of three or three out of five so often? Because the first heads or tails feels wrong and wrong.

It’s smart to take your time and review the consequences of the choices you make. But do not let yourself get stuck because making a decision seems too difficult. You owe it to yourself to figure it out. Sure, you may not make the right choice, only time will tell. But making none will ALWAYS be the worst decision of all.

 

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Somebirdy is abeak that HE is not on the cover.

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I write my blog posts in the morning. I find that if I let it go until the afternoon due to my schedule or a struggle with an idea, or lack thereof, it throws me and my day off-kilter. It causes me to feel unsettled, as if I’ve left the stove on and am not home to turn it off.

I am under no obligation to write this blog, except to myself. As I have said before, whether what I create here is any good is not for me to say. But I do know I am compelled to share the journey I am on. Waking up without my sight set me on a path I am just now, over four years later, finding my stride on, each step, both figuratively and literally, scary, unknown and necessary. And wherever I am headed, now starting to come into focus in my fully functioning mind’s eye, I believe it starts with this blog. I want to tell my story to help others, but the truth is writing this blog has played a big part in bringing me back to life. Writing everyday links me with the world and also myself and when that connection is incomplete, it is difficult to see the rest of my day clearly and unencumbered. Ironically, this is also a layman’s description of my optic nerves.

Whatever is your you to you, I hope it comes easily and early in the morning. Because the very best way to start your day is feeling like yourself.

 

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While getting a smaller wallet to fit into a smaller purse I was switching to, I looked at my stash of wallets devoid of cash and thought how great it would be if they were full of money. This was followed by the realization, and perhaps it was in my husband’s voice, I cannot say for sure, If you had less wallets you would have more money. 

We shall leave my purses for another day.

 

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I spent the first twenty-five minutes of today searching for an earring I dropped on the floor.

Every Monday is like the start of a week-long blind date for all of us. We don’t know what’s going to show up, whether we’ll get along or if it will end in a smile or a frown.

If this morning was an actual blind date, I would have finished my drink and ordered myself an Uber.

I did manage to find the earring. Which is good because I want to look good for wherever this week takes me.

 

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I first became aware of Amy Purdy when she competed on Dancing with the Stars in 2014. Earlier this year, I discovered she had written a book, On My Own Two Feet, published a few years ago. It greatly impacted me and I give Amy and her story credit in playing a part of how inspired I have felt the last few months.

Inspiration is very personal. I have heard many accounts of perseverance and victory, both before and after my vision loss. As with everything in my life, there is a line of demarcation, and what touches me now is different than what and how I was impacted by things when I was fully-sighted. Amy, she got me good.

Click here for Amy’s website and to learn more about her journey and her book. Also, follow her on Instagram, @amypurdygurl, as I do. The woman who lost her legs may help you to discover what’s next for you as she did for herself. One step at a time.

 

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I’ve been invited to attend a meeting next week and I asked the head of the organization if he needed any information from me prior to then. He replied, “All I need from you is a smile and a little enthusiasm.”

As a corporate meeting planner I was the person placing “RESTROOMS” signs, with appropriate directional arrows, on easels in hotel meeting space hallways. So I am having a Cinderella moment right now with so little required of me.

I will share more about this endeavor after I sit in on this meeting. I don’t know where this will lead but the smile and enthusiasm I take with me into this potential opportunity will be genuine and would have been present without the request. That’s the easy part. I’m hoping I leave the meeting feeling the same way.

And that my Uber doesn’t turn into a pumpkin.

 

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We met on the internet, on a site hosted by mutual acquaintances, Barnes and Noble. I was instantly attracted as I enlarged the view on my iPad and let my eyes take it all in. In that instant, I couldn’t wait to hold this like-minded discovery in my hands.

I haven’t read one word inside the covers yet, and I am trying to temper the anticipation I feel before beginning any book, let alone one with a title that could also be the inscription on my tombstone or my flesh if I ever pulled the trigger on the ink needle and got that tattoo I have debated for years.

I remember being taught as a child that “Books are our friends”. Sometimes, though, they can be our soulmates. Chapters will tell . . .

 

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My mom’s birthday is 4/26 and she died at 4:26 p.m. Since then, “426” pops up,an awful lot. An awful lot.

I realize many people will think this is similar to when you buy a new car and then you notice that make and model everywhere. It could be labeled wishful thinking on my part, grasping at straws, making something out of nothing. An analytical slicer and dicer of all things such as myself has played the Devil’s Advocate, in a situation where the Devil, if you so believe, would have a vested interest in the significance of these occurrences.

My mom’s birthday is next week and we are also entering into the time of year when she became ill. She is on my mind very much and this morning I was talking to her in my head as I sometimes do. Immediately after my chat with her, I began searching for images of Fitbits on peoples’ arms as I am thinking of getting one and wanted to get an idea of how it looks when you wear one. About three or four photos into the search results, I found what I was googling for. Enlarging the picture to determine if I was able to see the display, I discovered I was able to view it. And the time on the Fitbit was 4:26.

The Fitbit will track many things including my steps, other activityv and heart rate. But I don’t need a piece of technology to tell me the heart doesn’t lie. And neither do the numbers.

 

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As I have mentioned before, I see a therapist. I received a text this morning from her, letting me know there was a death in her family and tomorrow’s appointment had to be cancelled.

Of course I know she has a family but the professional people I see — doctors, attorneys — they all have private lives but who they are when they leave their offices isn’t shared unless a rare tidbit of information about their world outside their practices is revealed. Conversely, these people know the most intimate details of my body, my mind and my heart.

In the case of a therapist, who hears so much pain and struggling from their clients, it has to be a learned skill to not take their work home with them. And it begs the question: who do they tell their troubles to? I hope my therapist has a good support system. Although she is a big part of mine, she is so much more than that. She is a wife, a mother, a daughter, a friend and an animal lover. She has and continues to help me with so many things since my vision loss, including the fact that what we do as a career isn’t who we are. And even though my appointment this week has been cancelled, through the loss of one of her loved ones, she shows me just that.

 

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