Not long ago, I was bedless by choice.
I barely had any furniture at all.
One day around that time, I came across a good quality bed—one that wasn’t really what I wanted but it was free. I said to my friend “oh, well, I guess I should take it…beggars can’t be choosers, after all.”
I’ve had free, hand-me-down furniture all my life, which isn’t a bad thing in itself. Some of it was pretty awesome, some not so much.
I was consistently broke, but I knew I’d never be stuck on the street, so I “should” be grateful.
By the time I was entering my 30s, I started to feel tired of feeling like I often had to take what I could get, in love, things money, friendships, jobs…almost everything at one point or another. I had a decent life, but the sagging queen-sized mattresses on the floor were starting to take their toll on my back and my psyche.
That bed, that apartment, that city served me well, but they just didn’t feel right anymore.
I knew that they had stopped serving me, but I wasn’t sure how to get out. I saw that I had some choice, but I felt like I had so little, and that pressure was mounting.
I just couldn’t get ahead—not “white-picket-fence” ahead, but just basically comfortable and happy.
So I finally figured out how to leave.
Of course this isn’t about “things,” but it is about well-being: Time, space, love, freedom, balance, movement.
Now, it’s so much better. I still wake up knowing pretty much nothing about life, but I do know that every day I choose—not beg for—my actions, livelihood, community.
There are some things like death and taxes and thunderstorms and broken hearts that are unavoidable in life. But beyond those big things, I have agency.
I choose this day.