I Create My Own Confusion

Here I am back again at square one in regards to what I do for a living.  If a living is even what you can call it; I'm scraping by unable to save a dime.  Sure, having health benefits is great, still being paid for time off is great, but the toll it is taking on my sanity is of a magnitude I didn't think possible.  No wonder 40-hour-a-week drones, those who spend that time in a cubicle or at a desk, are miserable.  I'm not even in a cubicle but I lose my damn mind walking into that same building every day, going into the same locker room, putting on the same scrubs, and doing the same jobs over and over again.  The time just drags on, and I spend more of it there than I do anywhere else.
Yes, I know how lucky I am to even have a job.  I also realize how lucky I am to have the ability to make choices when it comes to my job and what I do to pay the bills.  The enormity of it is not lost on me.  BUT...
I've begun to ask myself, Is this the quality of life I want?  I know, I know.  It's only been four months.  I've applied for two different positions within the company; I didn't get the first one for reasons I completely understand, but I wanted to prove I had the guts and gusto to move upwards.  Still waiting to be interviewed for the second one, or at least hear something, and it the outcome just might make the decision for me - the decision I'd never thought I'd face again and the conclusion I've already come to - that this is not for me.  I walk around that place and think, I am not like these people.  I can't handle this.  I need to be using the other side of my brain again.  At least the stress that caused me was worth it in some twisted way.
The stress I'm experiencing now is of a whole different caliber - working twice as hard for less money, missing my family, my life, popping one or two Klonopins just to get through the day.  With my old job they were there if I needed them, but it was rare that I had to run to the bathroom with a bottle of water and dig through my purse in search of my prescription.  (Which reminds me, I need to get it refilled for the first time in almost an entire year.  What does that say?)
I don't know what the hell to do.  My old job is beckoning me to come back.  Come back Dana, your passion isn't dead.  Come back, you can make a few small demands from your old boss that would make it worth it to both you and him.
Now that my major debt is paid off, I'd be able to sock away some money.  I'd be able to repay those who have helped me out, because right now, the paycheck goes into my account and then right back out, regardless of the fact that I have slashed my monthly bills by almost a third.  I've been sitting on $20 since last Monday to get me through until this Friday.
Maybe I needed a break from the photography gig to reset my mind frame.  Maybe I needed a wake up call to realize how good I had it, even with all of the traffic and snot nosed brats that I had to make look fabulous.  I remember cutting the grass one day, my thoughts following the trails I was making while pushing the mower, and thinking, Maybe being the Picture Lady, being the school portrait photographer, for the rest of my life wouldn't have been such a bad gig.  At least there I had coworkers I looked up to and aspired to be like. At least there, when summer time came, I had the ability and freedom to express my creativity by taking actual portraits that wouldn't just be discarded the following year.  Oh and the stories I had.  The stories I would come home with were some of the best.
Like I said, I don't know what the hell to do.  I am more confused now than I've ever been.  What does my heart want?  What does God want for me?
I better get my ass in gear and head to the gym to (hopefully) clear my head a bit before it's time to go to work.  Shudder.