Peter has his Lost Boys. Are there the Lost Girls too? Because I know there are Lost Middle-aged Women. Well, at least one.

I had a nice, snotty cry the other night about my choices and how each one seems worse than the one before. I’m not talking about choosing which dress to wear or what to have for dinner. I’m talking about life choices. Where to live. What job to do. Which friend to make. When to be in a relationship. Who to be. I keep trying to fix my life. Make it better. Make it decent. Make it plan B…C…actually I’m on like P or maybe Q now. And every single frickin’ time, with every single frickin’ choice, I make it worse. These aren’t flighty decisions. Yes, I make very quick emotional decisions. But then I take a deep breath and a step back while I let my logical, informed side have a go at it.  My final decision is based on my heart AND my head.

Of course now I’m paralyzed. How can I possibly decide what to do when I KNOW it will be the wrong decision? So I play the Vizzini battle of the wits game. If I think I should do this, maybe I should then do that. But then if I pick that, maybe that means I should pick this. Meanwhile many areas of my life deteriorate. So not making a choice also leaves me, well, lost.