This picture well and truly sums up the last seven days.
Often it’s hard being me – and being around me! I’m SO indecisive coupled with a big load of emotion that trying to wade through the gloop to find the right way is nigh on impossible.
And I drag anyone and everyone along for this joyous ride. My family, the poor husband, friends, ex colleagues, random Facebook forum members, the milkman. What should I do? What would they do? Then of course you end you with a heady mix of conflicting opinions that you’re nearly self combusting. You swing one way. Then the other other. Then think to hell with any of the choices in front of you. “Let’s sell up and move to the back of beyond!” I brazenly announced to the husband. Reality being I’d last all of five minutes with no Little Waitrose around the corner.
Did I mention this period of indecisiveness has taken place while I’m enduring Go Sober for October? So I can’t even drown my contradictory thoughts in a bucket of wine. How inconvenient.
So the dilemma I was confronted with was career related. Two offers on the table. Pros and cons on both sides. I should be grateful apparently, but those who know me well will recognise that this would inevitably lead to anguish, tears and just all round general grumpiness. When the husband dared to lay out the practical and financial rationale for both, sporting his scientific hat, I literally snapped his poor mop-top head off. Try as I might, I can never remove the emotion.
But then career changes are emotional. Especially when you have a young family to consider. Leaving them in childcare is not an easy decision, not helped by negative opinions on your parenting style for doing so still sadly maintained by many. We all have our own situations, so remove the guilt-inducing comments that can apply in both directions and let’s all get on with trying to fathom it out. In our own unique way thank you very much. Minus the mum guilt.
So on this miserable autumnal Monday I’ve finally reached a decision. Dah dah dah!! Everyone sighs with relief. My sister can now send the congratulations card she penned last week filling in the blank. The husband can walk through the door without fearing for his life.
Who knows if it’s the right one. It’s exciting and nerve-wracking all at once. But getting out of my old comfortable jogging pants and donning some newfangled Lycra number is never a bad thing. Change, reinvention, it’s daunting yes but often hugely rewarding. My nine year old told me – “Mummy, I think you should go with the school one. It sounds super interesting.” So I choose to go with his little wise words. I’ll go that way. And see where it takes me.
Maybe I do need a glass of something to celebrate after all.