The Next Step Is Still a Step

The Next Step Is Still a Step

There are moments in life when you look to the left, look to the right, and realize the decision is yours. There is no conversation to have, no one to bounce the idea off of, and no one standing beside you asking, "What do you think we should do?"

I remember those moments well. I would look around and almost say to myself, "Okay, Claudette. Decide." So I did. Not because I always knew the right answer or suddenly had life figured out. I simply understood that standing still wasn't going to make the decision for me. Life had changed. The path had changed. I couldn't change that, but I could choose my next step.

One of the strangest things about a major life change is that the ordinary parts of life don't stop. Things still break. Bills still need to be paid. The house still needs tending. Work still needs to be done. Life continues to require your participation, even when you are still trying to understand how you got where you are.

Not even two weeks into one of the biggest changes of my life, a water line broke. There was no deep meaning in it and no life lesson floating down from the sky. The water line broke, so I shut off the water and dealt with what needed to be dealt with. It may sound like a small thing, but I think there is something important in those ordinary moments. When life changes unexpectedly, it is easy to become so focused on the size of what has happened that we forget we still have the ability to respond to what is directly in front of us. We may not know what next year looks like. We may not even know what next month looks like. But there is usually something right in front of us that needs our attention today.

Sometimes that is where moving forward begins.

At another point, I looked around at years of accumulated things that needed tending to. I wasn't trying to clear away the past. It was simply stuff that had built up over the years because life gets busy and things get put off. So I rented a dumpster and started tending to it. There was a storage trailer out back and plenty of accumulated things that no longer needed to be there. I went through what needed to go, checked with my son and daughter when it made sense, and periodically held yard sales for things I no longer needed. I filled that dumpster, and it was a relief.

I wasn't trying to erase anything. I was tending to my life. There is a difference.

I think we often wait to feel ready before we act. We tell ourselves we need clarity first, but sometimes action is what creates the clarity. You clean out one space, make one phone call, ask one question, fix one thing, or make one decision. The whole world doesn't suddenly make sense, but you create a little breathing room. Sometimes that little bit of space is enough to see the next step.

I have never understood the idea that we must be completely certain before making a decision. How could we be? We don't know what is around the next corner. I have made decisions that I can look back on now and wonder, "Why in the world did I do that?" Well, I did. The decision was made, and I can't turn the clock back and stand in that moment again with everything I know today. So I adjust. I pivot. I keep going.

Life isn't lived backward. It is lived right here, in the present. That is why I don't believe a wrong turn means you have failed. If something doesn't feel right, look for another path. Take the next turn and make an adjustment. Waiting for a guarantee can keep you standing in one place far longer than making an imperfect decision ever will.

Making your own decisions doesn't mean doing everything alone. I have asked for help plenty of times. When I needed to understand something outside my knowledge, I leaned on people I trusted who knew more than I did. There is a difference between giving away your power and asking someone to help you understand your options. You can ask questions, gather information, get the help you need, and still make the decision that belongs to you.

Eventually I reached a different kind of decision. I had finished a long chapter of my life, and quite honestly, I had also had enough of winter. I decided I could live my life without shoveling snow. So I moved from New Hampshire to South Carolina.

It was a big decision, and I certainly didn't know every detail of how the future would unfold. I knew the next step, and I took it. I wasn't running away from anything. I had simply reached a place where I was ready to make a choice for my own life.

I think we spend too much time believing we need to have the whole path figured out before we move. We don't. The path may not look the way we planned. In fact, it may look nothing like the life we once pictured. That doesn't mean there is no path. It means the path changed. You are still here, and your life is still here.

For me, healing began when I made the choice to move forward and live life. That didn't mean every difficult feeling disappeared or that I had every answer. I simply kept taking care of what was in front of me, making decisions, adjusting when I needed to, and taking the next step.

Maybe there is a decision you have been avoiding because you are afraid of getting it wrong. Maybe there is something in your life that needs tending to, a conversation you need to have, a question you need to ask, or a turn you already know you need to take.

You don't have to see the entire path from where you are standing today. Take care of what is in front of you. Make the decision you can make with what you know today. If something doesn't feel right later, adjust and keep going.

You have your own brain. Use it.

The next step is still a step.

If this story resonated with you, I'd love to continue the journey with you. You'll find more articles, resources, and encouragement at claudetteeames.com/access.

I'm Claudette Eames, wellness advocate and certified mental wellness coach. Building a life that genuinely feels good to live, one choice at a time.

Claudette 🌻

Rooted in healing. Grounded in purpose.