Lately, I have been feeling more unsettled in my decision making. Constantly questioning if I am making the right choice. Questions big and questions inconsequential are all debated. Should I color my gray hair?Are we doing everything to help our youngest and his reading scores? Is this paint color too yellow? How should we furnish our house? The rug I ordered is much more green than blue. Do I change it? The hard part is, most of these questions are after the decision has been made. So what does that leave me? Regret. I recently listened to a podcast where a Harvard psychologist said regrets are silly. I am paraphrasing but she contends that regrets are assumptions that if a different choice in the past was made, the present would be different. Somehow better. Yet how are we to know the outcome of different decisions? We cannot live dual decision lives. We made the best decision for our current life situation. For me, as much as I love sharing about my embarrassing episodes of accidents, it also just sucks. I am acutely aware of my body. The scars and imperfections and insecurities. I am not sure I have ever had this many insecurities about my body. The baggy shirt at the gym to hide my diaper lines. The quick walk to the bathroom. The extended bathroom time. I often find myself questioning the choice to have surgery. It seems silly I would question whether or not I should remove my cancerous tumor. Like, duh, I should. I guess with all my accidents and diarrhea and “figuring it out”, a part of me wonders. Did I make the best decision? Or maybe I should be asking if I was even given an option to make a decision. There was no question the path of treatment: radiation, chemotherapy and surgery. Done. Decisions made because options were not given. There is merit to say this course of treatment gave me the best opportunity to beat cancer and live. So would I have chosen otherwise? What is the alternative? I would go through cancer-hell again if it keeps me alive with Chris and our kids. And maybe that decision is motivated by fear or maybe motivated by love but I am working to hold to the belief I made the best decision at the time. Accidents and all. No regrets. So with all my G.I. issues, I continue to gather the information my body is communicating to me about how we are progressing. And it keeps screaming at me: slow down. I had a moment (interpret: whiney crying) in the middle of a workout when I questioned when do I get my body back to what I used to be? When I can feel my feet and my body doesn’t hurt? But that is the wrong question. I need to ask my body what can I learn from my experience to be a better me? I still expect me to be back. Capable of handling more: more kid activities, more house stuff, more work. Here’s the joke, though, no one cares if I do “more”. Chris is supportive, my kids learn mom needs help. So I regret I am not doing more? Again, dumb. Just more opportunities to learn, adjust and grow. 

I had a lot of reflection time over Thanksgiving week. It will always be the week I remember getting Babs. Babs was the most physically painful surgery and experience I have ever had. Even with 3 pregnancies and breastfeeding and several serious injuries as a collegiate athlete. Crazy to think how far I have come. Yes, we still have more figuring out to do, and that’s okay (most days). But I am thankful for being on this side my journey where I am now. I am thankful for a supportive husband and kids and friends around me who continue to check in. No, I am not living an overtly toxic positive life. I am not always super sunny. Just ask the 7am CrossFit class I coach. Sometimes I am even a bit grumpy. But struggle and bad days and bad attitudes come. It’s learning to figure out the root of my frustration to expel the negative energy to move forward. Growth is always happening. It is whether you are willing to lean into it and do the hard inner work. Often the choice seems simple: pain of growth or pain of regret. And everyone say regrets stink.

Liz