Decision time is never easy. You know it. I know it. Yet, it has to be done. So far the decision has eluded me. Cleverly playing a nasty game of hide and seek. So all I’ve done this past week is roll over to the side of the pros, feel like I’m making some headway, only to be rudely interrupted by a violent onslaught of the cons. Then I sit and count them. Sometimes the pros outweigh the cons, sometimes, vice versa. Couple all of this with a whole load of self-doubt (I have mentioned, I’ve become wholly diffident?), and my new found love for the fear of uncertainty, and you have this heady cocktail of that which only makes me chicken. Even more than I already feel. Enough to make me weak in the knees, bring me down to tears and feel altogether useless.
The result: my posterior is still sitting tight on the fence. Unable to decide. Unable to make peace, take a stand and get on with it. So this Christmas, all I ask for is some perspective. And some balls to do the right thing.