Today I became completely overwhelmed (and quite stressed) by too many choices, and thus too many decisions to make.
This predicament is a prevalent problem in U.
S.
culture where we actually derive quite a bit of stress from having too many choices.
Think about it: we have a myriad of choices we can or need to make on a daily or weekly basis.
Some of which are very important, while others are very mundane: Which bank should I choose? Which doctor? Which cereal? What sport should I encourage in my child? What class should I take? This list goes on and on.
Having variety is one of the great advantages of living in an affluent and free society.
Surprisingly, it can also be one of the drawbacks.
My husband was in the Peace Corps in Paraguay for two years and I lived there with him for 6 months.
Rural Paraguay is NOT a place of abundant choices.
Yet, I felt the most stress-free in my life there.
With fewer consumer goods to care for, I had less to fix or clean.
With limited options for entertainment, my choices were often made for me.
With virtually no grocery store to roam in, the food available at the corner market and what we grew ourselves would suffice.
With too many choices to face, our brains become overloaded.
One suggestion from neuroscience: literally go on a mental vacation: read a novel or magazine, daydream, take a walk in the woods.
It works by relaxing the mind.
By giving our brains time to discharge all the frenzied mental activity, it can reset itself to a more restful place.
By mid-day I became completely frazzled and had to take my own advice: I went to my special spot.
I had only one hour.
Sitting next to the tumbling stream, only the sound of the wind, the water, I could feel my own breathing.
Later, I came home and read a novel purely for pleasure; I wasn't striving to learn anything in this endeavor.
The brief respite enabled me to recalibrate; to re-establish my own list of true priorities.
It also gave me the space to later become truly vulnerable with my family and have a little breakdown of tears (which my husband calls a break-open).
At the same time, my walk gave me a sense of gratitude for all the options that exist in this society.
From a more grounded place, I can say, no thank you to some, and gleefully accept others.
This predicament is a prevalent problem in U.
S.
culture where we actually derive quite a bit of stress from having too many choices.
Think about it: we have a myriad of choices we can or need to make on a daily or weekly basis.
Some of which are very important, while others are very mundane: Which bank should I choose? Which doctor? Which cereal? What sport should I encourage in my child? What class should I take? This list goes on and on.
Having variety is one of the great advantages of living in an affluent and free society.
Surprisingly, it can also be one of the drawbacks.
My husband was in the Peace Corps in Paraguay for two years and I lived there with him for 6 months.
Rural Paraguay is NOT a place of abundant choices.
Yet, I felt the most stress-free in my life there.
With fewer consumer goods to care for, I had less to fix or clean.
With limited options for entertainment, my choices were often made for me.
With virtually no grocery store to roam in, the food available at the corner market and what we grew ourselves would suffice.
With too many choices to face, our brains become overloaded.
One suggestion from neuroscience: literally go on a mental vacation: read a novel or magazine, daydream, take a walk in the woods.
It works by relaxing the mind.
By giving our brains time to discharge all the frenzied mental activity, it can reset itself to a more restful place.
By mid-day I became completely frazzled and had to take my own advice: I went to my special spot.
I had only one hour.
Sitting next to the tumbling stream, only the sound of the wind, the water, I could feel my own breathing.
Later, I came home and read a novel purely for pleasure; I wasn't striving to learn anything in this endeavor.
The brief respite enabled me to recalibrate; to re-establish my own list of true priorities.
It also gave me the space to later become truly vulnerable with my family and have a little breakdown of tears (which my husband calls a break-open).
At the same time, my walk gave me a sense of gratitude for all the options that exist in this society.
From a more grounded place, I can say, no thank you to some, and gleefully accept others.
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