How to stop agonising over decisions

One sunny summer afternoon I was walking down George Street, Sydney’s main thoroughfare, when I spotted a ten-dollar note gently fluttering on the ground a few metres ahead. Being on a tight budget due to imminent transcontinental migration, this discovery was terribly exciting. The possibilities flashed through my head at warp speed: I could spend it on a magazine. Or dinner. Or a glass of wine. Or a packet of dinosaur-shaped swizzle sticks!

My right foot fell alongside the note. But then, my left foot followed immediately after. I kept walking. I didn’t even look at the money as I strode on. Why? Because in the three seconds it took to reach that tantalising cash, my brain had entertained the following monologue:

How will it look to all the people around me if I just brazenly pick up this cash that isn’t mine? Will they think I’m a selfish bitch-a-tron? Is it demeaning to stoop down and snatch cash from the ground? Will they suspect that there is an elaborate scam or shenanigans afoot? What if this is some kind of Candid Camera-style trick? Dear Jebus, what is the best course of action? How can I make the right choice? There isn’t enough time, and I will regret this for the rest of my life!

Though my countenance betrayed nothing of this inner battle, my heart was pounding with the stress of it all. And after I had walked past, it suddenly occurred to me: I could have picked up that tenner and given it to a busker or a homeless person! Of COURSE that was the right thing to do. What an idiot I am! Is it too late to go back? Arrrgh, I’ve ruined Christmas for everyone!

I used to freak out over making the wrong decision. Whenever it seemed like I might have picked the inferior option, I’d get bitter and resentful and dream about what might have been. And, as illustrated by the preceding cash conundrum, the angst was often over silly stuff that really doesn’t matter. I remember one morning I spent about an hour engaged in a furious mental debate over whether to buy the newspaper. I know, I know: it’s a freaking newspaper. But when you are stuck in that state of constantly doubting yourself, stupid things become important.

So, how did I fix this and learn to let go of decision-making angst? Well, a big contributor was my wonderful friend Paul. I was talking to him about my tendency to linger on each choice, and he proposed we conduct a behaviour experiment. The rules were thus: “Whenever you have a decision to make,” he said, “go with your first instinct. You’re smart. I’d bet that you rarely make a choice that’s truly bad. And in the unlikely event that you do, I will take all the blame for it. So there you go: you are now absolved of all responsibility.”

This concept blew my fragile little mind into a million star-shaped shards. The notion that I could make a fast decision and move on, without having to assume the burden of negative consequences, was amazing. And the psychological energy conserved by this new approach meant I could devote my concentration to worthier things, like cancer research and welding.

Sometimes, all it takes is a little mindtweak. Try these thoughts on for size the next time you’re agonising over a decision:

• There will always be other — often better — opportunities. One bad decision does not consign you to a life of regret. Learn from it, let it go and move on to the next thing. If you spend too long with your head down, brooding over past missteps, you may not be able to see the next shining opportunity.
• Ask yourself what role fear is playing in all of this. Fear often swaddles us in an itchy blanket of inaction, pinning our arms by our sides and refusing to let us move forward. I say, knee fear in the goolies. Shake off that burdensome blanket and kick it away. You’ll feel more engaged with the world.
• Just because there are lots of options doesn’t mean they’re all worth considering. This principle has really made itself known during my short time in the USA. In a country with hundreds of television channels and twelve million kinds of white bread, you quickly realise that abundance doesn’t equal high quality. As Edina says in Absolutely Fabulous, “I don’t want more choice, I just want nicer things!” Concentrate on the nice things and forget the rest.
• Trust your instincts. You’re smart. I read it in your file. That intelligence provides you with a solid foundation to make good choices. If something seems right, it probably is. Go for it.