My Life Is a Daily Experiment In Bad Decisions.

And so it would seem.

I was laid off from my job earlier this year. I live in my parents basement. I am divorced. I am jobless. I am counting my pennies (literally). I am single. I am hopelessly single. I am afraid of my future. I am haunted by my past, well, some of it. You know... those bad decisions. I am a lot of things. I am mostly scared, and tired.

Bad decisions are like a snowball. What if that snowball starts to roll and pick up a little more snow? What if that snowball gains a little speed and heads down a long steep hill? Well, you're smart enough to figure out where this analogy is going. I try to figure out how I got here. I am smart, intellectually. I am funny, and bright. I make people laugh. I have a good sense of humor, even if it is on the sarcastic side. I am sentimental, and moral. I am a lot of things. I am mostly tired of following the rules and not getting ahead. Being the good person doesn't pay the bills. To be fair, I am also opinionated and moody. I show my emotions, I often think I'm right, and I like to be in charge. I am easily depressed and frustrated. I am a dweller and moper. I also try to get over it and move on.

Bad decisions are like dominoes. You knock one over, and it knocks the next one over, which knocks the next one over, and so on. You're smart enough to figure out where this analogy is going. I have made a lot of bad decisions in my life. To be honest, a lot of them have been about, well.... men. Perhaps, to more direct, not so much men, but love. Actually, those bad decisions have been made for the pursuit of what I thought was love. Looking back, I feel emptiness about those men. I feel foolish to have wasted that time and energy. I feel foolish to have made those decisions to move, to take a job, to live with or marry someone for what I thought was love. I suppose I thought I would get what I was giving. I got it all wrong.

I should have spent more time making decisions that were good for me, and not decisions that made me available for someone else. I should have made decisions that focused on my career, my life, my finances, my education, on me. Indeed, I should have known better. Yet, here I am, in my parents basement. A few years after a divorce from a fairy tale marriage and a nightmare ending. Still here after loosing a job that was a really a shield and an easy "out". A place to hide from my career as an Interior Designer. I chose to work in a jewelry store as a customer service representative because, to be brutally honest, I was afraid to fail at something else, after the failure of my marriage.

I should have known better. Yet, here I am. Any decision I make seems to be a bad one. I could blame the store that laid me off, the economy, the President, my parents, the men. I know where the blame lies. What do I do know?