holding decisions lightly
A few months ago I was deciding whether or not to leave my PhD. I ultimately decided to, and my god it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. But there was something that struck me when I was trying to decide, something that felt like a step change in thinking about how one ought to make big life decisions, maybe most decisions. The thing is to hold decisions lightly.
Minds are strange places to be. They aren’t very coherent, they change over time, they’re made of parts. And with a decision as big as whether or not to leave my PhD, a lot of my mind had things to say. There were parts that were very anxious, parts that were scared of what people would think of me, parts that wanted to be free, parts that felt like a failure, parts that longed for something intangible I couldn’t quite articulate, parts that felt the pang of being friendless and alone in my program, parts that wanted structure and legibility and something to say at Thanksgiving. There were a lot of conversations my mind was trying to have. And I couldn’t have them all at once. There were just too many things to say, too many feelings.
And for a while, my main feeling about the situation was overwhelm and confusion, the culmination of all that buzzing. I intensely disliked thinking about it, I dreaded every meeting with my advisor to discuss it, I spent most of my time distracting myself from making the decision.
And then for whatever reason, something clicked. I think I went on vacation with my boyfriend. In any case, there was a change of scenery. And my background felt a bit more relaxed. I felt a bit more out of my head, and I spent two weeks just sitting with the thought of leaving. Not trying to force it one way or another, just seeing as all the scenes played out over my mind, all the thoughts and fears and all the am I a failure?!?!’s
And I got a sense from that, over those weeks, something more settled and grounded. Leaving felt right. I had passed that thought over all of the parts, gently, without having secretly decided in the back of my mind, without any hidden agenda, and I had seen how they all responded. And there was all the fear and all of the anxiety and all of the insecurity. But there were other things too; noticing how good my life was over on the west coast, noticing that relationships were more important to me than my PhD was, noticing that the thought of going back seemed bad on a pretty visceral level, noticing that most of my arguments for staying were couched in societal expectations and not my own.
That gentle pass, of letting my mind interact with the thought, lightly held, clarified it for me. My guess is that I still would have decided to leave either way, but when I finally made my decision with this process it felt right. It felt grounded. I talked to my advisor with courage and resoluteness in knowing that I was doing something good for myself, even though he seemed to think otherwise.
This whole thing reminded me of something my therapist brings up a lot: no decision consists only of pros. It wouldn’t be a decision if only good things came of it, in that world you’d just know what to do. There will always be some shades of grey, some unwanted consequences. And sometimes I, and I think others too, see these scary outcomes and laser focus on them. Agonizing over a decision because something bad will happen. Zeroing in on all of the hardships you’re going to face is certainly useful -- it’s useful to be aware of the possibilities, but it’s good to be aware of all of the possibilities, good and bad. Spending all of your attention on what might go wrong obscures the gestalt of the decision as a whole, conceals other equally important factors.
Decisions are never so simple. There are bad things in the mix. But I don’t think the thing to do is agonize over whether or not a bad thing will happen, it will. The question isn’t about whether it will happen, it’s about how you feel on net about the whole thing. It’s about taking in all of that content, all of the things that will or won’t change, and seeing how it settles within you.
I also don’t think the only thing to do is make pros and cons lists or EV charts all in one go. So often this glosses over large swaths of your mind, parts that weren’t active at the time, parts that were too scared to speak up. You know, it’s funny. I used to do pro and cons lists with my Dad all the time. We would get to the end and it would say one thing and I would have a sinking feeling and he’d say, well you know which one you should pick then! It seemed like the entire thing was just an elaborate way for me to see how I felt in the world where I made that decision. Which is more or less what I’m advocating for here, but over longer time scales.
I think your mind has to sit with it. Gently. Surrendering to the space of possibilities, and choosing the one that is genuinely best for you. Not in a graspy way. Not anything forced, but in a way that acknowledges what is actually at stake. What is really in you, when you are deciding this? What’s on the line?
And I think if you do this, not in a rushed way, you’ll settle on something that feels right. And I think it’ll have been the right decision, too. I have almost zero regrets about leaving my PhD. There are pangs here and there, projects I can’t be on that I wish I could. But overall, on net, I am exceedingly happy I made that decision. And I think part of it has to do with the fact that my whole being gets it, on some level, that it was right for me.
So, if you can, try to hold decisions lightly. Gently carry around the thought of making it one way, and see what your mind has to say about it. You don’t need to make any decisions right then and there, just notice what comes up. Notice when thoughts repeat. Notice when they get stuck. Notice when you feel elated, when you feel scared. Just note it. Notice when your mind starts to settle on something, too. And I think at some point, you’ll have that visceral, rooted sense of knowing what to do. All that’s left is to do it :)