To Decide or Not to Decide - That is the Question

I hate making decisions. About everything.

I think I’ve always been more comfortable with what I don’t want than what I do want. I find it easier to hear suggestions and negate them than make those suggestions myself.

I’m not terribly proud of this. In fact I think it’s one of the less charming aspects of my personality. Though I don’t think it’s as awful as being indecisive. I know if I’m going to like something or not. I’m not wishy-washy. I just don’t like to be the one making decisions.

Maybe I just don’t trust myself to make the right choice? Maybe I’m afraid that if I make that choice, five seconds later I’m going to regret it? If I pick this, doesn’t that automatically mean I can’t have that too? No, that’s not right. I’m usually not worried about missing out on something. There are very few choices in this world that once made, keep you from ever going back and trying out what you decided against. But no matter why, I have a hard time with those darned decisions.

Needless to say, this makes my life a bit difficult at times, as this inability reaches every aspect of my life. It rears its ugly head when I’m out with friends, trying to figure out what or where to eat. It stops me dead in my tracks when trying to pick between several books to purchase – I want to read all of them, not just one! And of late, it’s created a big problem with my emotions.
Of course this also has something to do with my very well-known destructive streak – if something or someone is bad for me, lemme at ‘em! Take both of these personality traits and it makes getting out of bad situations as tough as climbing out of quicksand. If a friend hasn’t been much of a friend to me or has been particularly and continuously nasty, you can put money on the fact that I will sit on the fence for months trying to decide if it’s worth it to me to keep up contact. I’ll think of a million reasons not to and then think of just a few good reasons why I should. If those few good ones outweigh the million bad ones, I’ll keep on that fence for a while longer. If there is a guy that I just can’t get no matter what, rather than cutting loose the ties and moving on, I’ll wait on making that decision. Some people call that procrastination; some call it just incredibly stupid. But I just can’t act.

Sometimes I just feel like Hamlet, though I’m not really contemplating the death of my regicidal uncle. Like Hamlet, I find myself caught between two outcomes and unsure which outcome is right. And while I don’t plan to die of a poisoned epee wound, the hurt I end up causing myself because of this inaction feel deadly.

And so I sit here now trying to decide what to do. I know what the “right” choice is, or what everyone else is calling the “right” choice. And I know what I want. Somewhere between what is right and what I want there must be an answer. But I haven’t found it yet, and so I’m still deciding.