Indecision is a Decoy

On my first ever backpacking trip, I climbed 5 miles up into the Gifford Pinchot wilderness to a lake on a mountain.  The camping spot was exquisite and so were the mosquitoes.  My companion and I literally could not be outside the tent unless we were cooking (the heat pushed them away) or sitting in the hot sun (which the mosquitos also detested), or in the water (where they still went for our ears and cheeks).  On the second day, a wind picked up and this was helpful as it blew the bugs away intermittently.  

On our last morning, my friend decided to jump in the lake before we left. I considered this option with care.  It sounded like a good idea - it would give me a break from the bugs, wet hair might cool me down for the return hike, it might give my nervous system a reset that I can always use, maybe it would dispel some of the angst I had built up over all that swatting.  

On the other hand, it was a long hike down, my hair dripping down my back might be annoying and I had only carried this pack once - it might chafe if it was wet. The hassle of undressing and suiting up and then changing again and then carrying my swimsuit…seemed like a lot of bother.

But then again, this was a beautiful lake and my first backpacking trip. What if I regretted not doing it later?  Would I feel proud of myself like I had been brave on top of brave jumping in the lake at the top of the mountain after backpacking up?  

I could feel the tension building around this decision.  I was starting to feel frustrated.  Why couldn’t I just make a choice?  Was I going to spend the whole last hour that we are at this beautiful place agonizing about whether to do a thing that A.) didn’t matter and B.) was supposed to be enjoyable?  What was happening in my brain?  

And then something happened. 

Something that had not happened before.  

I realized that my brain had duped me!  The decision wasn’t the problem, the indecision was!

I realized that it didn’t matter whether I jumped in the lake or not.  This was not a crisis.  The real crisis, the one that had my well-being on the line, was 1. Whether I let myself safely experiment with doing new things and 2. Whether I could be kind to myself and keep a stance of learning while I did. 

In other words, I could not know the outcome of jumping in the lake.  I could not know for sure how I would feel afterwards - I had not had this experience before.  But it was unlikely that either option was dangerous or going to have long lasting negative consequences - in fact, based on the information I had, both options had potential pros and cons and were pretty evenly matched. Otherwise, I would not have been able to debate them so thoroughly.

However, I could know with absolute certainty how I would feel if I chose to either debate myself into a place of paralysis or choose one of these options and then berate myself for that decision afterwards.  The only choice I could make that would for certain make me - if not the most happy ever - at least functional and able to make better decisions in the future - was to 1. Make a choice and 2. Be kind to myself about whatever choice I made. 

So I let go of the agonizing back and forth and chose to practice, in a small way, having my own back.  Instead of staying locked in the endless back and forth, I tried saying to myself,  “That’s ok honey.  Either of these are fine choices.  Just pick one and see how you feel.  If later you wish you had jumped in the lake, you can do that next time.  There will be other lakes and other chances to jump.  You got this.  I trust you and you can trust you.”

So, if it matters to you, I did not jump in the lake.  I decided this time I would try not jumping. Next time maybe I will. As my newfound compassionate voice said to me, there will be other lakes.  And yet the principles here are widely applicable. I have found that there are a million opportunities to have my own back in my daily life.  And the more I do it the more I feel able to take risks because I know I have myself to fall back on.  

Post note: Later on the hike down, my lake-jumping friend confided that they often struggle with indecision about whether or not to jump in cold water.  They remarked that after many trials, they have made a mental note to themselves that says: If you ever are wondering whether you should jump into cold water, you should do it. I laughed out loud thinking about how maybe someday, after multiple trials and trusting myself to learn, I might have a little notebook of mental notes of things I have learned when I let myself experiment and observed the results with kindness.