This piece was originally published in the May edition of The Savannah Post, a monthly piece of mail sent to readers all over. To learn more or sign up, please visit this website.
There is an old saying, “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” I find that very hard to accomplish. I often find it much easier to not sweat the big stuff. Sometimes I make big decisions on a whim with little anxiety or hesitation.
When we moved to Savannah, I’d only visited once (Aleisha twice), and I really didn’t know what we were getting into. Our realtor took us around to check out houses, and we bought the first one she showed us. Wow, looks great. Let’s take a 30 year loan! Back when we moved to Phoenix, we rented an apartment we’d never toured and hoped for the best! I made the decision to commit four years to becoming a therapist after a summer of listening to podcasts and one elective class on counseling.
But the small decisions, well, that’s another story.
Recently, I went to Barnes and Noble with a $30 gift card. After ninety minutes of looking, biographies, new releases, self help, psychology, fiction, I heard over the loudspeaker they were closing. I slinked back through the parking lot with seven book ideas and my unused giftcard – couldn’t decide. Ryobi or Cobalt, what font to use, should I pack my blue pants or my blue jeans, or both? These are the things that haunt me.
Movies are particularly difficult. On movie nights, I sort of prefer (insist?) on getting to make the selection. Then I get stuck in a choice paralysis. While Aleisha eats our bowl of popcorn alone on the couch, I gaze with laser focus into the laptop comparing Rotten Tomatoes, top ten lists, the Netflix offerings. Inevitably the phrase “Will you PLEASE just pick something!!!” comes over the loudspeakers every few minutes.
What’s the deal, I ask myself, with way overthinking small decisions and making big ones on what some might call “a whim.”
Like every teenager, I was faced with big decisions as I moved toward adulthood. Some of these I agonized over every day for months. Deciding whether or not to go to college was brutal. It was the first thing I thought about every morning when I woke up, like a ghost haunting my every waking hour. I was so scared of getting it wrong, of taking a chance and failing, of not taking a chance and regretting. I made some other decisions that didn’t go the way I’d hoped – not at all. I began to lose faith in my own ability to reason. I remember telling a mentor, “I don’t trust myself anymore.”
As time moved on, I began to get a sense that I had much less control over life. It seemed like my choice was which direction to face, but what I’d find out there was totally beyond my control. The good things that happened began to seem more like God’s plan, or fate, or dumb luck than my astute calculation. Also came the realization that I didn’t know “excrement” about the things I was agonizing over in the first place, so it was kind of a waste of time. Should I attend this school or that school – study journalism or English – do this job or that job – move to this state or that state? As a person with next to zero experience in any of these things, there’s a certain level of we’re just gonna have to see what happens which became inevitable. No amount of calculation could have predicted the best and most amazing things about my life: where I’d live, who I’d marry, etc. Just like how now amount of looking over my shoulder could have prevented some of the worst things which have happened.
In the big decisions, I often can’t even pretend to be in control, though I do try from time to time. I try to envision myself as a passenger getting on a train. This thing works without me knowing how, and I am riding along. Boy, I hope it doesn’t crash. In the little decisions, I maintain the feeling that I am in control. If I pick just the right restaurant, we’ll all have a good time. If I get the perfect gift, the person will know just how much I care. And if I miss the mark, it feels like I have failed, like I have driven off the track.
Curt Thompson says that good things are hunting for us, coming after us, if only we will allow them to find us. “Put yourself in the path of oncoming beauty.” he says.
I don’t know what the right balance is, of controlling and letting it happen. But I want to be someone who picks a direction and goes along for the ride. But, Dear, if you’re reading this, I will still be picking the movies.
javen.bear. 