I hate making decisions. Shower or bath? Pants or Skirt? Soup or Salad? I understand that making decisions is a part of growing up, but here's the thing: People have made decisions for us before we were born. Our mothers decided they wanted to have us precious little darlings so they bada bing bada boomed our fathers and voila, here we are. We didn't ask to be born. Next is our name. Now I like my name fine, but I like at least twenty other names better. Again, a decision was made on our names. Fast forward to when we are toddlers. Our mother's decide when to stop breastfeeding us, what clothes we wear, when we need to stop crapping in our diapers, and the worst, when it's time to stop sucking on the pacifier.
I pondered this when I had a heated talk with my mother about deciding on a career. Unless someone starts paying me for my high score on WII bowling, then I'm in deep ish. She pressed that I needed assess my strengths, research career paths, and decide how to make a living. I became flushed and realized I don't know how to make a decision. If I can't even decide if I want hot sauce or ketchup on my eggs, how in Batman's name an I supposed to decide on a career? I suppose some people are blessed with some divine knowledge of what they wan't to do and then just make a decision to leap. Unfortunately and quite clearly, I wasn't.
Maybe I'm afraid. Afraid of failure because of a bad decision. Maybe there are too many options and my brain is becoming fried trying to figure out all the avenues I can take. Maybe I'm just cranky because I woke up too early. Hopefully, one day I'll learn to decide things on my own and become a responsible and productive adult. Now it's time for a nice cup of peppermint tea. Or do I want lemon? Shoot.