To whom it may concern:

I seem to be unable to make a decision. Or, rather, once I have made my decision, I lack the ability to stick to the decision I have made. Not in simple things obviously. If I have chosen a meal at a restaurant, I am committed to that meal. And, to be honest, I rarely choose wrong. I mean, I usually know the taste I am looking for, or have an idea how wonderful something new might taste and I choose accordingly. Rarely am I disappointed. But in my life, I don't seem to be able to choose that well. The result is maddening.

Recently I read somewhere an illustration of a construction project. How much time and energy is invested because you want the building to be made of the finest quality. The description ended with, "the building under construction is you." And I felt a twinge of panic and then my stomach cramped up. Constructing me isn't a project in which I want to invest and maybe that is why I am struggling so much with making a choice.

When one has a vision, it is easy to choose. You building will have high ceilings and you love pink. You will decorate that in all the pink that exists and even if everyone who comes by leaves under the impression that a bottle of pepto bismal exploded in your living room, what do you care. It is home to you. It is awash in pink. You are comfortable and you are happy.

I have no pink. What I mean to say is, of all my visions, of all the ways I can see for everyone else, I can't see a room for me. A building made of...what, exactly?

What I really don't want is more talking and no building. But I feel at a loss as to what tool to pick up when I don't know what I am building. And there aren't really plans to consult in this project. No one else can really tell me how to construct myself. Shamefully, I built me that way for a long time. Under the advisement of ill-equipped architects and decorators. That building went down in flames and ash. I want to build something more permanent. Someplace for me to come to, put my feet up, sip a glass of wine and exhale. I've got wine. It's all the rest.

I keep waiting for some voice inside to say, "this is the way. This is who you are. Do this." But there is not that. What I hear is: "Give that a shot. It can't be worse. Oh God. It's worse. Uhm, well. Try this then. Lord, I hate everything and everyone. What are you doing?"

My inner voice is judgey.

So, I guess I am trying to find a layout and determine a vision. I will need time and some quiet. And likely booze. And tissue because there will be crying. Let's face it, construction sites are messy. But hopefully, in the end, there will also be a house. Or me. Hopefully in the end, I will find me.

Searchingly,
me