If you can't make a decision, it means you don't know who you are

I once overheard someone say, “If you can't make a decision, it means you don't know who you are.” I chewed on that idea for several years while I floundered my way out of a disintegrating relationship. Should I stay or should I go? All those years invested, all that crap to box up and move... but no more companionable TV time together, no more sex...on the other hand, no more snarky comments, no more walking on eggshells, no more of that peculiarly profound loneliness you only get when you are in a relationship... weighing the pros and cons of uprooting the status quo in favor of embracing the unknown.

Breaking up is a big decision. I don't know how you make the big decisions, but I have to roll around in the muck for a long time before all of a sudden my perspective shifts, and I wake up. It's like someone turns on a light switch. One moment I'm in the dark, the next moment, things are bright and clear as day. All that remains at that point is logistics. My heart and mind leave long before my body walks out the door. By the time I carry the last box to the car, I've been gone for months. Each partner (I was always the one to leave) accused me of being cold and callous, of leaving with no advance warning. What can I say? The time for tears passed ages ago. It just took time for my body to catch up to the rest of me. Bye-bye.

I left my last relationship ten years ago, Independence Day weekend, 2003. My only regret is I waited so long. Decision making takes as long as it takes. You can't rush it. It's a process, it's organic, like mold growing on bread. Like yogurt, like beer. Like growing a garden. When you are in the middle of the process, it seems never-ending, a nail-scraping eye-gouging eternity of frustration. Why can't I decide! Clearly we aren't happy! But we used to have so much fun together... But now it sucks. Why can't I just leave? But how will I pay the rent on my own? Argh!

I have an acquaintance who telephones me regularly, presumably to witness her chronic indecision. She (I'll call her Kaylee) has elevated indecision to a high art. The simplest decisions—where should I eat? Should I go out with my friends or not?—are torn apart into microscopic moments that must be examined and discussed in excruciating detail. Kaylee does not enjoy this process. Frequently she weeps. Each decision has the weight of life or death behind it. The wrong decision really feels like a death sentence to her. Me, I'm like, just make a decision already, who cares? Either way you learn something. But she can't; she's paralyzed with fear.

Twice in the past year I've persuaded her to flip a coin to make a decision. The first time was a big decision. She was trying to decide whether or not she wanted to break up with her partner, a man who lived in her basement. (I know, really?) They hadn't had a real relationship in years, yet she was terrified to let him go. For months she told me she didn't love him, she wanted him gone, she just needed to gather courage to ask him to move out. Then she found out he had been seeing someone else. Finally, I thought. Now she'll be happy to see him go, but no! Suddenly her love for him revived. She declared her desire to marry him, to have his baby, to commit to him forever, because she loved him so much. Oh, why hadn't she seen it before, while she kept him relegated to the basement!? Oh, woe, alas, alackaday! She wept, she gnashed her teeth, she went without sleep and food.

I'll be the first to admit, love can make anyone nuts. Leaving a relationship is not for the faint of heart. It's advanced decision making, a 400 level course. It requires guts. So I let her wallow in her indecision on the boyfriend. I witnessed. Hey, it can happen to anyone. Love is a battlefield, right?

The second time we tossed a coin, though, she was trying to decide if she should drive to the coast for a vacation with her friends. The problem was, her cat was sick. Should she stay with the cat, or go on vacation? Hmmmm, a classic dilemma. Should she apply a Kantian approach? The good of the friends would surely outweigh the good of the measly cat. On the other hand, you could apply the Golden Rule: if you were a cat, what would you want? Walk a mile in my furry paws.

I always ask, when confronted with what appears to be two obvious options, are those my only choices? Like, when I go to a buffet, I scope out the whole thing, from lettuce to pudding, before I choose my entree. I like to know the whole picture. Kaylee sees only two options, and both are fraught with the danger of making a wrong decision. I suggested she let the universe decide. She flipped a coin, and it came up heads: go on vacation.

“Great,” I said. “The universe has spoken. Have a good trip.”

“No, I can't go, I can't leave Tippy!”

“Ok, then don't go, stay home.”

“But I really need a vacation!”

“Ok, so go on vacation.”

“But what if Tippy dies while I'm gone!”

“Tippy's a cat.”

“Tippy's like my child! If something happened while I was gone, I'd never be able to live with it.”

“Ok, so stay home with Tippy.”

“But my friends are going to be there!”

I did a lot of eye-rolling while she raved and wept in anguish. When we finally ended the call, I heaved a sigh of relief that I didn't have the disease of indecision. When I decide, I just go with it, whatever it is, if it seems right at the time, I just go with it. I let the universe take care of the outcome. I don't always make the right decision, but I always learn something. Isn't that one of the purposes of living? To learn? Maybe it means I finally know who I am. Or maybe it means I'm ok with not knowing.