I once spent 45 minutes negotiating with six feet of snow.

I was in graduate school, driving home from Niagara Falls when the weather shifted from this isn't so bad to where did all this snow come from?

Every few minutes brought another decision.

Do I stay on the highway?

Do I get off and take the much longer back roads?

Do I pull into a truck stop and sleep until morning?

(I've actually done that before. Hello, 21st birthday.)

Do I just scream?

Looking back, I don't remember one defining moment. I remember dozens of tiny negotiations—each one asking the same question:

What's the safest next step?

Life rarely asks us to make one enormous decision.

More often, it asks us to make hundreds of small ones.

Should I speak up?

Should I let this go?

Should I rest or keep pushing?

Should I trust myself?

Should I apologize?

Should I try again?

Of course, not all of my negotiations have involved potential hypothermia.

There was also the season of young love, when I apparently believed emotional restitution should include poetry. If a boy broke my heart, my proposed path to redemption often involved him writing me a love poem.

In hindsight, I'm not convinced it was an evidence-based intervention.

Apparently, I've believed in the healing power of writing for longer than I realized.

This week reminded me that we become who we are not only through life's defining moments, but through the thousands of little negotiations no one else ever sees.

The quiet choices.

The ordinary courage.

The moments we decide to stay, leave, pause, ask for help, begin again, or keep putting one foot in front of the other when we aren't entirely sure where the road leads.

So here's my question for you:

What conversation are you having with yourself these days?

What small negotiation keeps showing up?

And what might it be teaching you about the person you're becoming?

If you have ten quiet minutes this weekend, grab a notebook and see where that question takes you.

And if you're craving an afternoon devoted to writing, reflection, and meaningful conversation, Writing Bravely returns September 19. I'd love to have you join us.

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Want more writing prompts? Download a free sample of the Writing Through Grief and Loss Journal to get IFS journal prompts.

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With courage & 1,000 tiny decisions,
Adina

P.S. Writing Bravely™ returns on September 19. We'll spend an afternoon writing, reflecting, connecting, and discovering what happens when we give ourselves enough space to listen. (And no—you won't be writing for four hours straight. 😊)

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