Simplicity by Sunny

I’ve made a lot of bad decisions in my life.  I’m reminded of boyfriends #1-8, drag racing my dad’s car, drinking too much tequila at a biker bar, and pouring laundry detergent across the sheriff’s lawn…while his sprinkler was on.  These days I’m pretty boring, thank God.

I’m reminded, too, of the times I said “yes” when I should have said “no”.  I’m reminded of the chances I didn’t take, but wanted to, and still wonder how they would’ve turned out.  My only regrets – the chances, the relationships, the dare-deviling – are those things I’ve done while going against the itch in the pit of my stomach.  The itch that either says, (1) “Run away fast, Sunny!”, or (2) “Do it!”.

My head isn’t the greatest decision-maker, but my gut always knows what’s right.  My gut doesn’t weigh the pros and cons, isn’t practical, doesn’t care about money, and never leaves me alone.  My head knows the rules and the shoulds.  My gut, though, knows me.

Now, I’ve used the gut-test to justify many things.  The overpriced zebra-print ballet flats purchased in 2003?  Had to buy them, they’re so me and it just felt right.   The Harley dude I dated in my mid-twenties?  It just felt right!  Really, though, I was fooling myself.  I knew it, too, I just shoved the gut-wrenching warnings far away.

I proudly displayed my zebra ballet flats, but my step wasn’t as light as it should have been.  My gut weighted my feet.  I rode on the back of that Harley, clutching the mischievous man tearing it down A1A, but the wind whipping my hair didn’t excite me as it should have.  My gut dampened the excitement.

The first time I decided to listen to my gut was in November of 2007.  Against all that was practical, I sold my possessions and moved to Denver.  My gut told me to do it.  I was miserable, living a life by everyone else’s standards, and finally contemplated my dream of living near the mountains.

“What if I moved to Colorado?” I asked myself, during one of my 2-hour commutes to work.  Something deep within – beginning with a tingling in my toes, a blossoming in my stomach, and a quickness of my breath – answered my question. 

“Do it, Sunny,” it whispered.  As I sold each belonging one-by-one, mapped my route, quit my job, my gut no longer whispered.  “Do it NOW, Sunny!” 

I followed its screaming.  I had nothing to lose, but wound up gaining more than expected.  I didn’t gain instant happiness.  I’ve hit some curve balls outta the park, and I’ve had some smack me in the nose.  Here in Colorado, I’ve laughed and cried.  I’ve struggled and rejoiced.  I’ve made good decisions and what-the-hell-was-I-thinking decisions.  But my gut brought me to the Rocky Mountains, a home where life isn’t perfect, but it’s fantastic.  And it’s making sense.

It makes sense because, yes, I’m meant to be against the Rockies.  But it’s making sense, too, because I’ve learned how to make the right decisions (not that I always do, I don’t want to be too boring ).  My gut gave me a great gift – Colorado – and I now consult Mr. Gut daily.

When I’m edging toward something – a friendship, a big purchase, another shot of tequila – and I feel the pit of my stomach drop, I know it’s time lace up my sneakers and run away.  When I’m gravitating toward something – an opportunity, a new apartment, another glass of wine – and I feel the butterflies dance in my tummy, I know it’s time to sink back and enjoy. 

Trust yourself.  Move closer to the whispers coming from deep inside, urging you toward your dreams.  See if your insides start screaming as you get closer to them.  You might be seen as unconventional, impractical, or crazy.  You might think you’re crazy, yourself.  Give your gut a chance, anyway, and see where it leads you.   

Let’s unlace our sneakers (or slip off the zebra ballet flats) and sink into what’s right.