TessaReneeI chose this life, even if not every part of it felt like a conscious decision at the time. That realization didn’t land with guilt or regret. It landed with clarity. Somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing myself as someone things happened to and started recognizing the accumulation of choices that brought me here.
Not dramatic choices. Practical ones. Reasonable ones. The kind you make because they seem necessary in the moment. Because they keep things stable. Because they avoid conflict. Because they feel like the responsible thing to do. Those choices add up quietly, until one day you look around and realize this is the life you’ve been maintaining.
Choosing this life doesn’t mean I wanted every outcome. It means I stayed. I adapted. I adjusted myself to fit what was in front of me instead of asking whether it still fit me. I chose continuity over disruption more times than I can count, and those decisions shaped the structure I now live inside.
There’s a strange relief in naming that. Not because it absolves anyone else, but because it returns agency to me. If I chose it, even unintentionally, then I’m not powerless inside it. I don’t have to keep framing my life as something I’m trapped in when parts of it are the result of my own endurance.
Being the main character, unfortunately, often means you’re the one who keeps choosing the path of least resistance. Not because it’s easy, but because it feels manageable. You tell yourself you’ll reassess later. That things will change once something external shifts. And then later becomes a habit.
I noticed how often I chose stability over satisfaction. How I chose being needed over being fulfilled. How I chose to keep things running instead of asking whether I still wanted to be part of what I was sustaining. Those choices made sense at the time. They just weren’t neutral.
I chose this life doesn’t mean I can’t choose differently now. It means I don’t get to pretend I have no influence over it. It means I have to be honest about where my agency begins and ends. It means I stop waiting for circumstances to change before I do.
There’s a temptation to rewrite the past once clarity arrives. To judge yourself for not choosing differently sooner. I don’t find that useful. I chose what I could with what I knew. The important part is noticing when that choice no longer aligns with who I am now.
Main character energy without accountability turns into resentment. Main character energy with accountability turns into authorship. I don’t have to punish myself for the story so far. I just have to decide whether I’m still willing to keep writing it the same way.
Choosing this life also means accepting that change will require discomfort. It will interrupt routines that rely on me. It will unsettle systems that function because I’m consistent. That’s the part that makes choosing differently feel heavy. Not fear, but responsibility.
I didn’t choose this life in one dramatic moment. I chose it slowly, through endurance and accommodation and practicality. And because of that, changing it won’t be dramatic either. It will be gradual. Intentional. Quiet.
Being the main character, unfortunately, means realizing that awareness doesn’t absolve you from choice. It sharpens it. Once you see your role clearly, continuing to play it without intention becomes its own decision.
I chose this life. And because I did, I get to choose what happens next.
Final Thought
Ownership isn’t blame.
It’s clarity.
And clarity is where choice begins.
Disclaimer
Main Character, Unfortunately reflects personal reflection and lived experience. It’s not professional advice or a substitute for therapy or clinical guidance. Take what resonates. Leave what doesn’t.
TessaRenee