The choice that changes how you feel
Five minutes earlier, staying in my pajamas felt like the best decision I could make all day.
I was exhausted. People were coming over later. Pilates was about to start, and I hadn’t even changed.
The easiest thing would have been to stay home. I could almost feel the relief of it.
But I knew myself well enough to know that relief would last about five minutes.
Movement is where I process.
Where I pray.
Where a thought I haven’t been able to finish finally has room to land.
And when I leave, I’m different with the people I love.
So at 9:02, I asked myself the question I’ve learned to ask when the feeling of right now gets very loud:
How will I feel after I make this choice?
At 9:07, I was on the mat.
And yes, part of me still wanted to leave. The class was hard. Then the music came on, and the teacher offered a reflection that met something I’d been carrying all week.
I’m glad I went.
I’m putting up chicken soup for Yom Kippur now, thinking about how often we have to make a choice before we get to feel what it makes possible.
Moving closer to family meant being new in a neighborhood. Reaching toward people meant risking that a friendship might not grow. Becoming more intentional in my work meant saying no to things I could do so I could give myself more fully to what I’m here to do.
Those choices felt uncomfortable at first.
But I’m living in what they made possible. I’m sleeping better. I feel more at ease. I’m building a life that feels more like mine.
Maybe you know a choice like that.
A conversation you’ve been avoiding may give you more peace than another night spent rehearsing it.
A boundary may disappoint someone, and let you stop carrying resentment into every interaction with them.
A reach toward someone new may feel vulnerable, and give a relationship the chance to begin.
Sometimes rest is the choice that will leave you better able to love and live. The question is whether you’re caring for yourself, or choosing a few minutes of relief that won’t feel so good afterward.
Whether or not you’re observing Yom Kippur, I wonder:
What choice is in front of you right now, and how might it feel to live on the other side of it?
If you want to name it, hit reply. I’d love to hear what you’re moving toward.
Gmar chatima tova to those observing,
Esther
P.S. If you’re a therapist feeling the pull toward a bigger chapter of your work, deeper clinical mastery, more trust in your own voice, and leadership that feels like you, I made a free video about the three pillars that support that growth, Watch it here → [LINK]
And if you’re ready to do that work with me inside Trauma Mastery, you can [apply here].
