life is a series of choices...trust me you are not making the "wrong one"

So life really is just a series of choices and consequences. Nothing bad or good. Just is.

I used to be terrified of making the "wrong choice." It haunted me—this belief that if I chose wrong, with a person or a situation, I would become my mother. Or I would become one of the horror stories whispered around my old neighborhood. The stories that start with hard things and end in ruin. I thought if I wasn't careful, I’d fall into that pit too.

But the truth is, we make choices every day. The ones to survive. The ones to thrive. The ones that little, scared versions of us would’ve never believed were possible. And I think we all hit that moment—multiple moments—where we either clock out or opt in. Like, really opt in. And hovering around us at all times are versions of ourselves, waiting to be chosen. Versions that say: Hey, if you want me, I’m here. But you’ll have to choose me.

I watched Everything Everywhere All At Once recently. You should too. It’s chaotic and beautiful and one of the most gripping things I’ve seen. And while scrubbing toilets this morning at the hostel I volunteer at, I felt this piece writing itself. The voice in my head humming, turning words into melodies.

The biggest risk I ever took was packing my entire life into a 40L backpack and choosing to see the world. Me. Kendra. Grew up on government assistance. Mom was an addict. Dad was abusive, of course, when he even remembered I existed. Homeless at 20. I had no business taking that risk, not on paper. I didn’t have savings. I didn’t have a fallback plan. But I went anyway. August 28, 2024. I kept walking toward that day despite every excuse clawing at me. And when the day came, I leapt.

And if everything blew up in my face? At least I did it. At least I took the first step. The step most people never take.

Things come up. Always. Little divine checkpoints. Spirit whispering: Are you sure? You made it this far. You could turn around.

And you can. That’s the thing. It’s not wrong to clock out. But how much of yourself do you want to meet? How much alignment are you willing to step into? How deeply are you willing to live?

Because a lot of us are manifesting shit that’s not even ours. We’re chasing dreams passed down by family, by capitalism, by fear. But when you strip all that away…what’s underneath? Who are you?

At 20, in Covenant House, a homeless shelter for youth, a yoga therapist asked me who I was beyond my emotions. Beyond expectations. Beyond what I had been taught. I didn’t have an answer. I told her I was angry. A monster. Because that’s what the world told me I was. That’s what survival had shaped me into.

Finding yourself while suffocating in a toxic environment is nearly impossible. It’s like being wrapped in a snake, one that sometimes wins, and sometimes teaches you how to shed everything that isn’t yours. Becoming yourself is terrifying. Peeling back every layer. Standing in front of the mirror and flinching at the sight. Because you forgot how to be curious about who you really are.

But choices. It all comes back to choices.

Close your eyes. Remove every voice. No money to worry about. No societal clock ticking. Who do you become? What life do you live?

Dreaming is a monster too. But not the one under your bed. It’s the one you made. The one that keeps you still because stillness feels safer than trying. And for a time, that was okay. That was the only choice survival gave you.

But the narrative can change. And the first step has no map.

I owe a lot to the mentor I met in that shelter. She re-taught me how to dream. Slowly. She walked me through vision boards, yoga, stillness, therapy. Everything I needed to survive, then thrive.

My C-PTSD still barks. But I know how to take care of myself now. Every step I take digs deeper into the meaning of who I am. Every country I land in calls to something holy inside me. I’ve made choices that led me here. Even the ones that didn’t make sense at the time.

And the people around me? Not always on the same path. A friend in Brazil recently begged me to return to Canada, to suffer beside her. Said we could struggle together. I stood at that crossroad. I could’ve gone. But that voice, muffled, but not dead—begged me not to. Said, You’re not done. Your adventure isn’t over.

It was a choice. Like all the others. Not good. Not bad. Just is.

I’m learning not to follow advice from people who have never taken a leap. Who’ve never met themselves in the deep. I can feel the difference now. My way of being will never be like anyone else’s. That’s the gift.

True alignment isn’t about going with the flow. It’s being the flow.

So in this world of endless choices, choose the one closest to your heartbeat. Even if it’s hard. Even if it’s unfamiliar. Even if everyone tells you not to.

Because when you push past that illusion of comfort, you’ll find yourself. And then? Magic. You’ll laugh—like, full belly laugh—asking the sky, How the fuck did I get here?

I have. Many times.

Look at me. I’m in Brazil. I dreamed of this as a child. I need to start saying that more. Not to brag, but to claim it. For a long time, I felt shame. Like I didn’t deserve it. Like it wasn’t real.

But it is.

And I chose it. Even when the choices felt small or stupid or terrifying. I chose my way here.

And now, I’m choosing to dream of India. No clue how I’ll get there. My bank account is crying. But 9-months-ago me wouldn’t have even allowed the thought. She’d have said, “Maybe next time.”

But now? Now I trust. The Universe will figure it out.

Because when you’ve been through hell, you learn to surf the flames. You learn to trust your gut. You learn that alignment doesn’t make life easier; it makes it yours.

And that’s the most magical life you can live.

So make your choices. And know this: you’re not looking for the right one. You’re looking for the true one.

Let that be enough.