I was scared out of my wits and it didn’t make any sense. I wasn’t staring down an elephant about to charge at me. I wasn’t caught on a cliff in a blizzard and loosing my footing on the perilous ice. I wasn’t even out of my home!

A few months before, I had discovered polymer clay and gotten the idea of putting together an art piece using it. Slowly but steadily, I had blended different colours together to create my depiction of “A Memory of Autumn”. The work was taxing, but creating each colourful piece brought with it great pleasure and a feeling of immense satisfaction.

And then it happened. Out of the blue, a part of me took over. She had seen that I was stuck in the loop of preparation. That left alone, I would never pull together the final work. 

“Of course I’ll pull it together!” I scoffed as she made her way towards me. “I just need more time. And more clay pieces. It’s for the larger canvas, you see. Go big or go home right?”

She didn’t bother replying. She just took charge.

I hadn’t realized it, but I would have gone on creating the colourful pieces indefinitely; I had gotten stuck in perfection mode. Everything had to be perfect. IT HAD TO BE PERFECT! Anything short of perfection was unacceptable. It would be a waste of the months I had already put into the project. It would be a waste of a perfectly good canvas. What about the paint and modelling paste? Worse than that, what would it mean of me as an artist if I created anything that lacked absolute precision? This could be the Mona Lisa! It could be the Olympic gold medalist. It could be everything! But only if it were perfect. Concentrating on making the colourful pieces felt safe and sheltered from calamity.

When she took charge, I understood that my input was no longer welcome. I was to be quiet and let my body be used. So I watched as my hands put it all together. My heart was in my mouth. I was near panic and had to remind myself to breath. Thing is, I’d reached a pact with her long before, and when she took over, I wasn’t allowed to intervene in any way.

When the project was complete, she packed up and left. Initially, all I could see was a thousand things wrong with it. In time though, I was struck with wonder at how beautifully it had all come together. Yes, there were areas that needed correction and I would address them, but that was like a single footnote in a voluminous encyclopedia: important, but otherwise trivial. 

A deep feeling of gratitude settled within my being and I thanked her. She had known what I needed. She had come forth and taken the necessary action. She had gotten the painting out of my head and into the real world. She had healed my insecurity.

She was decision. Decision had saved me from oblivion. She had freed my energy and I could now move on to other projects.

In what area in your own life is indecision keeping you hostage? What would freedom feel like to you? Welcome to share in the comments below.