Getting Down The Stairs
I need to decide but every time I get here my legs turn to deeply rooted bronze stilts!! I'm at a fork in the road, and suddenly my mind becomes an everlasting rock of ages - imposing, immovable. I can't think, let alone decide. Who am I? What have I become? It used to be so easy to up and go, throw in the towel and declare 'it's never that serious', roll up my sleeves and get ferocious! To my horror, not any more. Now decision time feels like a date with the executioner. Decisions feel like a choice between a firing squad and a guillotine. Aaaggrr I can't get myself to wake up when the alarm rings. I can't drag myself to the gym despite the horror of watching the pin on the scale go past 80kg or packing away more and more of my wardrobe. Is that job really the right one for me? Let me wait for something else. Should I go on that trip now or later or not all? Get a grip, get a grip I keep telling myself. I need a date with me, a soul searching time...