Making a Decision

Making a decision is a tough job sometimes. Particularly when emotions are involved. When emotions are high, our brain’s amygdala (the emotional animal) essentially highjacks the prefrontal cortex (the rational thinker). Our reason would optimise the best possible outcome. But our emotion optimises for the least amount of pain.

The most difficult decision I had to make in my personal life was leaving Delhi in 2015. Amygdala massacred the prefrontal cortex brutally, dragging me down into a quagmire of depression. When in a state of depression, our brain gets stuck in a rigid, negative loop, loosing its flexibility to heal or see the bright side. I had struggled with a protracted and excruciating bout of depression before I quit Shillong in 2001. You’d say I am an experienced person when it comes to depression.

Decision-making is the toughest part in that state. Psychologist Martin Seligman termed it “learned helplessness.” A series of painful situations ‘teach’ the brain a lesson that is false but inevitable: “No matter what I do, nothing will change.” You land up in a kind of psychological paralysis.

But the individual alone is not responsible for it. Depression is a biopsychosocial phenomenon. That is, a combination of biological vulnerabilities, psychological patterns, and social stressors colliding all at once. The impact is so huge that decisions made are likely to be catastrophes.

One of the myths I tell myself now in the autumn of my life is that I have been guided by some kind of Providence (supernatural element) and hence the catastrophes I chose turned out to be good in some way for me. Delhi was far better than Shillong. Later, Kerala had its own sophistication to offer compared with Delhi’s quintessential crudity. I don’t mean the school where I worked in Delhi but the metropolis itself. When the crudity of the city trespassed into the campus in the form of a religious organisation, I became a lost soul fit for Providence to take over.

Like most normal people, I am also wired to fear losing something twice as much as I enjoy gaining something equal. Giving up a job I loved in Delhi did feel like a massive loss even if the future held something good if not better. We don’t know what the future holds, that’s the problem. And we don’t trust the future because of the amygdala.

The worst is the confrontation with the emotional weight of the question that stares right into your face: “Am I a failure?”

I did fail much in life, no doubt. But every time I fell miserably, I gathered courage enough to get up and get going. Later I learnt that most people have similar experiences. That’s how human life is: a series of blunders and consequent lessons and an ocean of perseverance. Some Providence too!

Now I try to put into practice what business writer Suzy Welch calls the 10/10/10 Rule. Confronted with tough situations that demand strong decisions, we can ask three questions to ourselves and keep our amygdala under control of the prefrontal cortex.

1.     How will I feel about this choice 10 minutes from now?

2.     How will I feel 10 months from now?

3.     How will I feel 10 years from now?  

If that doesn’t sound good enough, you can ask this question to yourself: “If my best friend came to me with this exact dilemma, what would I tell them to do?”

Emotional decision-making thrives on vague, terrifying anxieties. Force the monster into the light. Ask yourself: “What would be the worst-case scenario if the decision goes wrong?” I did that as Maggie and I packed our bags exactly eleven years ago, on 1 July 2015, and turned our backs on the massive gate of Sawan Public School, Delhi.

“We’ll give Kerala just a year,” I told Maggie. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll go to another place. Pune, maybe.” Pune is said to be the Oxford of the East. Was I over-optimistic in spite of my depression? Was I joking? Was I consoling Maggie? I’m not sure. All I know now is Maggie and I chose to stick to Kerala and we aren’t particularly unhappy with that decision. 

PS. Written for the weekly blog hop of Blogchatter.

 

And a little advertisement

Want to know more?

Buy 

The Simplest Guide to Religion