Ordinary Days: Coming to terms with the curse of indecision

As an adult, I’ve discovered something about myself that either wasn’t a trait of mine when I was younger, or I just wasn’t perceptive enough to realize it: I am a pretty terrible decision-maker. 

As I write this in late May, school is out in three days and I have to make a pretty big decision regarding school and one of our kids. I gave myself a deadline of the last day of school to make the decision — mainly because I knew it’d eat me alive if I let the indecision carry over into summer — but I’m no closer to making a call now than I was three months ago when we first started talking about it. 

Granted, my husband is an equal partner in this decision-making. However, seeing as the anxiety over a seeming inability to choose Path A or Path B isn’t keeping him awake at night and turning his fingernails into stubs (waffles vs. spaghetti, if you remember), the decision feels heavier on my shoulders even if truthfully, the weight is evenly distributed. 

Every time I find myself in situations like this — when my brain hurts from the overthinking, analyzing, researching and pro/con list making — I get frustrated at myself for this innate inability to make a decision and trust it. 

It’s not just big decisions that cause this problem — it’s often small, fairly unimportant ones too. Several years ago, a friend asked me if I wanted to join her team and help sell a popular skincare line. At the time, I was trying to find an agent for “The Hideaway” and I’d gotten to the point where I felt like the book-writing thing might not work out. I was pretty discouraged and I also thought a chance to make some extra money might be nice. So I had her send me all the information about the business and being a representative for it. 

I read everything she sent me, scrutinized the fine print, looked up reviews, read testimonials, talked to my mom and husband — generally analyzed it from every possible angle. As I peppered my friend with questions (not unlike I’ve been doing with my child’s teacher and anyone else who has more wisdom than I do!), she sighed into the phone and said, “I think you’re overthinking this. Really, you’re just going to have to shut down that part of your brain and dive in.”

But you see, I can’t do that. I’m envious of those who can, but I can’t disconnect that part that says, “Wait, have you thought about it from this angle?”

You may be thinking right about now, “Lauren, you seem like a praying kind of gal. Have you tried that?” Now, imagine me adding one of those laughing-til-you’re-crying emojis right here. 

I wake up praying about it and go to bed at night praying about it. I’ve asked God for an epiphany, a middle-of-the-night, “This is it!” 

It hasn’t happened. I’ve asked him to guide me through someone else’s words or advice, but it seems no one else knows what we should do either. I’ve prayed that Matt and I come to the same conclusion, which would show us the right path, but we’re still split and both still waffling. 

Honestly, I think God is using this decision (and my indecision) to work on my sense of trust and rest in his care. My initial thought about that is, “Oh, I do trust him to take care of her whatever path we choose, but we still have to choose a path.” But it’s beginning to dawn on me that if I could really trust that he’s going to carry out his ultimate and perfect plan for my daughter’s life regardless of what we decide to do in this particular situation, then I’d be able to look at the facts, make a decision and sleep easy. 

I’d know her success or happiness or ability to understand common core subtraction — or even make friends and listen to her teachers — isn’t totally up to us. Her success as a kind, intelligent, strong and well rounded human thankfully doesn’t depend on Matt and me being perfect parents who always know 100 percent what to do. 

And that does give me rest. It also kind of makes me laugh at myself and all my pacing and fingernail-chewing. Thank goodness someone else is taking better care of our girls than we could on our own because while we love them more than anything and would do anything for them, it’s not enough. God’s love and mercy and tender care fills in all the gaps. And hopefully, it will be what ultimately leads me to quit asking questions, choose a path and rest. 

You can reach me by email at Lauren@LaurenKDenton.com, visit my website, LaurenKDenton.com, or find me on Instagram @LaurenKDentonBooks, Twitter @LaurenKDenton, or on Facebook. My novels, “The Hideaway” and “Hurricane Season,” are out now and available wherever books are sold.