Decisions, Decisions

I HATE making decisions, but the sick feeling I've had in my gut the last couple of weeks drove me to finally make one about whether to return to my job. My sick leave is over, but I've decided that I'm not returning. It was just a stopgap anyway, a seasonal, low paying job at a friend's business that I took to earn a bit of money and get me out of the house because I didn't feel able to work in the studio due to, well, for lack of a better term for it, my artistic block. Which had been plaguing me, surprise surprise, in tandem with my binge eating problem.

Oh yes, the two are linked. I'm sure of it.

Hello, where did the sense of well-being go that I felt immediately after making that phone call to work? What's the nature of that dark cloud that just bled into my blue sky? Self doubt and fear? I'll bet that part of it is that self-imposed pressure/pefectionism that I'm so good at putting on my shoulders.

Twelve step programs (all more or less descended from the granddaddy of them all, AA) talk about looking at your resentments and then looking in your role in your problems. I think my role in my depression is continuing the self-defeating perfectionism I learned growing up. It's the best method I've found to quash any sense of happy freedom I have from embracing my bohemian nature.

I'm in a community choir, and this semester we're doing a program of spirituals from different faith traditions. Of course, the majority are traditional african american hymns because they are just so damn beautiful. Look at the titles of what's on my mp3 player and floating through my mind right now: Ev'ry Time I Feel the Spirit... I'm Goin Up a Yonder.... Gonna Build a Mountain... Hold On...

You'd think someone was trying to tell me something.
Gotta go, I don't want to be late for my belly dancing class...