Indecision is my middle name

For most people, the prospect of going out of for dinner is a pleasant one, whether with friends, family or on a date. For me, it’s a little different. When I am asked to decide on the dinner venue, I come close to panicking. Even worse is when I’m asked to order, for myself or the others at the table. And this holds true for just about any decision I am asked to or need to take in life. Panic.

Why? Why is it so much more difficult for some people than others to make decisions? Why is it that some people know exactly where to go on a Friday night, what to wear to work in the morning, where to go on a weekend trip or whether or not to move? While others…like yours truly…just pass everything off saying, “I don’t do decisions.”

I’m trying to figure out why I have this phobia and handicap of making decisions. Is it because I’m scared of the consequences, and since it is my own decision, I won’t be able to blame the post-decision mess on anyone else? Or is it just that choice is difficult for me? In fact, I don’t even like going shopping alone. Although I’m not one of those psychos who spends hours trying out a gazillion different kinds of clothes, I do need some amount of reassurance or another person’s opinion before I can commit to spending money on something.

Given the above, you can well imagine how difficult it is for me to make serious, heavy-duty life decisions. I think the only decision that I can remember taking without a single moment of doubt was the move to Bombay. Of course, after moving there have been and continue to be several moments of confusion, when the city drives me nuts and I just want to get the hell out of it. But I did get out of it for a year and then realised that this is where I belong. But since then, switching jobs and switching homes have been ridiculously difficult decisions to make. And sleeping over it doesn’t quite work with me. I pass out, wake up and am still indecisive.

I think the universal debate on destiny versus choices is appropriate here. I am a strong believer in destiny, while interestingly enough, my significant other is a staunch believer in choices. I think I believe in a little bit of both, though. I think that destiny offers us a few choices, then leaves us to make those choices, after which again, she takes over. So really, not much is in our hands. Then, why does it feel like the burden of which direction our lives will turn is upon our not-so-strong shoulders?

Clearly, I am once again at the crossroads of a decision. Life is constantly throwing these things at me. I want to be dramatic and say and that I’m the ONLY one who is constantly going through some stressful, decision-making situation or the other, but my brain is telling me that that is not true. I’ve begun to follow my gut, as far as making decisions go. And I’ve learnt, especially recently, that my gut is often right. This is, of course, peppered with the opinions of those who matter to me. But really, can’t I just hire someone to make my decisions for me? Not that I have the money to hire someone, but the thought is pleasant, isn’t it? Till then, I guess it will have to be lots of phone calls, some long-distance ones to London and New York, to get me by. Sigh.