DON’T MAKE ME!!!

I think my therapist has actually gotten to an unhealthy irritation level with me. Not her fault. Not my fault. She is trying to do her best, I truly believe that. I’ve now had four sessions out of the six that I received for losing my job. Maybe she is just feeling the pressure of getting me sorted out in two more sessions. She has absolutely no way of accomplishing that, but I don’t dare squash her dream.

Decidophobia. The fear of making decisions. I actually had no idea that this was a real thing, until I looked it up just now, on the line.

Sorry! I had to interrupt the story. Ever since I watched this movie, I always call it, on the line. I also have a Vince Vaughn one night stand fantasy, but maybe that was oversharing a bit.

Decisions. I don’t want to make them. Any of them. Zero. I can barely go to the grocery store at this point. Well, my stomach has ramped up divorce proceedings and has turned nasty, so that isn’t helping matters. I think that might be too personal. Perhaps another example?

I got called for an interview. I said yes. That part of the process is ok. I wondered why I was there, when I got there, but I do need a job. My therapist reiterated to me that no one will just take me by the hand and lead me to my next place of employment. I said, “Why not?” I think I saw a slight amount of smoke come out of her ears.

Then they wanted me to come back to do a sample lesson. I panicked and didn’t call back. A sample lesson means that if it goes well, I might be offered a job and I have no idea if I should say yes or no. None. Yes, I might be rushing things a little. I could very well do a sample lesson that doesn’t vibe with their vision. It is a stretch to say that a job offer is imminent. The point is that I can’t handle it if or when it is.

I’m paralyzed to make a decision.

I will make it wrong.

My track record for decisions is, well I can’t remember one panning out well for me at this particular time. Except for writing on here. Love you Medium!!! And the house I rent is pretty kick ass. Yep, that’s about it.

I don’t want to choose wrong and I have no guarantee that I will choose correctly. I can’t play by those odds. You can’t make me.

So for now, I’ll hide out. Annoy the therapist. Avoid any life decisions. It’s a cozy place, this is. Don’t force me out before I’m ready. And when you do, can you throw me a bone and make the right decision SUPER obvious? Like seeing a flashing neon sign or having a ladybug land on me, or hearing a sweeping movie soundtrack song, preferably by John Barry? Something. Anything to get my attention. Heaven knows, I don’t want to fuck it up again.