There is nothing I would like more than for someone to tell me what to do, how to do it, and tell me that I have no choice in the matter. Because even though I’m struggling to figure out what to do next, it’s because there are too many choices to make. I am literally swamped by options.
I’m in that spot that is impossible to understand until you stand in the middle of it. I can see the thousands of possible paths open to me. But I look down and I’m stuck in a mud puddle that’s thick and deep, and every time I think to make a tiny step forward, the muddy vaccuum that has accumulated from my standing still pulls me back with a loud squelch. With every second that I sink deeper, it gets more and more impossible for me to take a step forward.
What am I doing here? How did get caught up in such a sticky and unpleasant metaphor? The question is not when do I escape, but how?
Do I get airlifted out, likely by my parents?
Do I fall to my knees and crawl for awhile?
Do I admit defeat and resign to sinking?