Creating your own story. Weaving your tapestry. Learning to climb. Rising. However you want to say it – and I have certainly said as much in varying ways in these posts – the meaning is clear. Life is a series of choices, some luck, and many mistakes, all of which pave the path of your life.

This past year has shown me more than ever how the road is often not easy to travel. In fact, in some ways, it is crazy difficult and borders on impossible. There are endless crossroads and hard rights and lefts along the way. Some involve major life decisions, some involve people, some bring love and joy and some easily destroy both. It is so easy to lose sight of the next step when the way is strewn with potholes, boulders and downed trees. As a runner, I like to imagine that I happily leap across and over all these obstacles. But that is so ridiculous it’s almost laughable. It is more like trudging through mud, creeping through a thick forest at some points, with the way ahead completely dark.

At this juncture, some people will move ahead based solely on faith. Whether it is based in religion or in intellect, these people can courageously plow forward, carving out their path with confidence and certainty that they are doing the right thing, making the right choices, heading in the right direction. But for me, not-so-much. I am full of second-guessing, changing my mind, planning how I will find my way back when I see that I’ve turned left instead of right as I should have. I am chock full of indecision.

Not always of course. There are those rare times when I know with all my soul that I am doing just the right thing. But on average indecision reins and crossing my fingers as I jump is my natural inclination.

2018 was most definitely a year of turning left and right and then turning around and heading back to the crossroad. It was full of change, fear, and indecision. As it closed, I felt immense joy that it was over and that I had survived. And while I felt relief, I also felt a profound sense of loss that was completely unexpected.

I am not a person who is typically surprised by my emotions or by my reaction to something. In fact, I would say generally the opposite is true. I tend to have a certain expectation of myself – conscious or not – when I enter most situations. Sometimes I am able to approach with some level of confidence – probably Karen2 leads that charge. Then there are other times when I am more comfortable sitting in the back, head down, praying not to be seen – and here we have Karen4, hiding behind her hair. These mindsets are really not conscious decisions but are more of an automatic response from the Kitchen Table to the situation.

So at the end of the year, this sense of loss took me by complete surprise. I had expected some emotion but this was overwhelming. So much so that I had to pull over – literally since I was in my car – because I just couldn’t drive. I was so heartbroken and sad that I just sat and cried my eyes out for a while. And I am most definitely not a crier. In fact, sometimes I almost paralyze my face while trying to squeeze out a tear in appropriate situations. But every now and then I am thrown a curveball and simply am shocked at the intensity of my emotional reaction to something. This was one of those times. And with this emotion naturally came uncertainty. Had I made flawed decisions and, if so, how the Hell many? In the moment it seemed like hundreds.

So, what did I do while banging my head on the steering wheel trying to pull it together? I phoned a close friend and went to her shoulder. After a while, I had rebounded and knew that, of course, there were no flawed decisions – just hard ones. Decisions that I had floated through – or so I thought – only to find out that I had been actually slogging through mud, grime and, likely, slowly drying cement. The time had come to recognize all that and mourn the lefts and rights along the path that I had decided against. Something that I thought I had done but was obviously completely mistaken.

I have written many times about finding your people – your tribe – and how those people are lifesavers. They hold us up when we can barely stand. They tell us that we will be OK even when we might not. They listen. They cradle us as we cry. And when we fall, they grab a hand and pull us to our feet. That is what happened that night. Someone pulled me up, hosed me down, wiped me off and assured me that I was going to be just fine.

As I have endlessly ruminated about this, I have thought about how hard it is to find your way. How we easily imagine that we are doing just fine and dealing with all of life’s curveballs as they speed by. Not needing help or self-introspection. Most importantly, I thought once again about how there are so many souls that help us even if we don’t know they are there. For me, there are far too many that have jumped on my path to help me along to thank, but I know they know who they are. Then there are others who I am certain have no idea that they have been instrumental in leading me here. Wherever here is . . . .

The tribe I have written about before is obvious and represents those who I cannot survive without. But there are other lifesavers that deserve mention here.

My children. It’s funny to mention them in this context. After all, I am supposed to be helping them find their way. But I realize that they are doing exactly that for me. They have saved me in countless ways. Always indicating in their own individual ways that I am heading in the right direction. I pray that I do the same for them.

My parents. Even though they are both gone now, I feel them as I move along. I know that whatever they have instilled in me – and some of it hasn’t been so pretty – has buffered and sustained me. In these moments I miss them more than ever.

My sanctuaries. Some gratitude is not for people but for things, emotions or events. Like running and cycling. I’ve written ad nauseum about these precious parts of my life so I won’t belabor the point but I will say that I can’t imagine moving forward without them. So much rising comes from these sanctuaries.

My career. Anyone who knows me knows that I have been a lawyer for about 30 years. However, I have also run a non-profit, worked at Fidelity Investments (this is an endless source of humor for those who know my budgeting abilities . . .), worked in retail, become a real estate agent and, most importantly, am a mom. That is a lot to swallow. All these different attempts to figure out where I belong in the world, where my contribution shold be. And I am eternally gratefully for each one because without any one of them I wouldn’t be where I am. Which is somewhere along the path that is becoming my life.

And that leads me back to the beginning and finding your way. I understand that the journey is riddled with complications, traps, potholes, choices, successes, failures, love and disappointment to name a few. As hard as I have found it to be, I am realizing – truthfully, very slowly – that it is all part of the journey, all necessary, and all with purpose. All of this is a work in progress. We weave it all – the good and the bad, the triumphs and the failures, the pretty and the ugly, the miscalculations and the preciseness – into a masterpiece. Our very own masterpiece. So, the next time I feel like I just can’t figure out which way to go or I just can’t see the road ahead I will try to remember that I’m creating a masterpiece, a masterpiece that is all me and wherever it winds up will be just where I belong.