From the start of your childhood, decision making is inevitable. Which toy will you choose to play with today? Which crayon in the box will you choose to color the sky? Ahh...the everyday decisions of a child. As you get older, things become more complicated. A toy becomes a college, a crayon becomes a career path. I wish I could go back to those days of simpler decisions.
Decisions can be tough, but what’s even tougher is being indecisive in a decision-obsessed world. As someone who applied to college as an undecided major, switched over to nursing before school started, only to change my mind and start college off as a general business major, then later add a Spanish minor and change my major to accounting, only to realize I absolutely hated that, and to now somehow end up pursuing a double degree in Spanish and international business, indecision runs through my veins. I could barely decide what I wanted for breakfast this morning.
As a junior in college, the decision I am now faced with is my toughest yet: what do you want to be? Six simple words, one not-so-simple answer.
I have been asked this question so many times, the answer has become rote— “a lawyer." The question then becomes, “What type of lawyer?” So far, I have no rote answer prepared for that one. Why is something that should be so exciting so difficult to answer? Maybe it’s because I haven’t fully committed to this decision. I have gone over my future so many times in my head, that the simple answer of “lawyer” is much less exhausting; not to mention it gives off the vibe that I actually have my shit together.
Why do I have to choose? Why does anyone have to choose? If I had it my way, I’d be everything—a lawyer, a teacher, a writer, a musician, an artist. But in reality, one lifetime isn't big enough for five careers, and no one has the time or money for that kind of extra schooling. You must choose one college, one major, one career path. A suffocating amount of pressure is put on that one decision that will illustrate the rest of your life.
Decision making is petrifying—intimidating, actually. What’s more intimidating is watching people my age making similar decisions in a quarter of the time I can even manage to make one. Watching others confidently steer toward their futures, I can’t help but wonder, why is it that I can’t just decide on something and be OK with it? What is holding me back? What is the cause of my incurable case of indecision?
It’s a combination of a fear of permanence, a fear of discontent, a fear of regret, and a fear of simply not knowing—not knowing if the decision I make will be the right one. I guess nothing is really permanent, but it sure feels like it. I like order and perfection in my life—how am I to know if the decisions I make will be the perfect ones?
The truth is, you don’t know—no one knows. Sometimes I find myself asking others what they think I should do instead of exerting my own energy on the problem; someone else making a decision for you is a hell of a lot easier than overthinking it on your own. But even with their help, my mind still can’t seem to commit to a decision. Do I choose to go through with three years of law school and become some type of lawyer? That’s one decision. Or do I forget all that and choose something else that could potentially lead to the fulfilling life I desire? How am I supposed to know? How is anyone supposed to know?
In this life, unfortunately, decision making is inevitable. I hate being asked the question, “What do you want to be?” because when I answer, it’s half-hearted. I know who I want to be, I just don’t know what.
