Mental Traps_ The Overthinker's Guide to a Happier Life - Andre Kukla [11]
The obstacle that makes us fixate may be internal as well as external. We may simply not know what to do next. We try to decide whether a marginal friend should be invited to our party, or whether to eat Chinese food or Italian. We go through whatever procedures are deemed appropriate for decisions of this sort—weighing the benefits against the costs, praying to God for guidance, consulting the entrails of a sheep. And the data prove to be insufficient for settling the issue—the costs exactly counterbalance the benefits, God tells us to decide for ourselves, the entrails are ambiguous. So we complain, we wish, and we repeat. Eventually we fall into a state of suspension. We sit and stare vacantly at the problem, or try to conjure a solution by chanting its name. Chow mein, lasagna. Lasagna, chow mein.
What can we do in a situation like this? If the decision isn’t pressing, it should simply be set aside for the time being. Perhaps we’ll receive new information that will help us to make up our mind. Perhaps we’ll hit upon a new decision-making procedure. Fixating on the problem doesn’t invite either of these developments, however. On the contrary, it diminishes the chance of encountering new experiences that may lead us out of our impasse. We’re more likely to break through to a solution if we go to bed and dream.
Fixation is senseless even if we can’t postpone our deliberations. If we must decide now, it’s better to be arbitrary than to sit and stare. If we can’t answer a question on an exam, we should guess. Of course the arbitrary decision may be wrong. But abiding in the trap of fixation doesn’t decrease this risk at all. So let’s stop wasting time and turn to the decision-making procedure that never fails to give a definite result: let’s flip a coin.
The most troublesome variety of fixation is undoubtedly worrying. To worry is to think unproductively about a potential misfortune that we’re powerless to affect. We lose a briefcase on the bus and must wait until morning before we can visit the lost and found. Meanwhile, there’s absolutely nothing we can do. Yet our thoughts return to the issue again and again. We “wonder” whether the briefcase will be found. We “hope” that it will be found. We “wish” we hadn’t lost it.
We’ve all heard it a thousand times before: it’s no use worrying. Worry does nothing except make us miserable. Unlike so many other traps, this one is widely recognized for what it is—when someone else is the victim. When we are the worriers, however, it doesn’t seem nearly so obvious that our activity is pointless and stupid. Without really being aware of it, we have the superstitious feeling that problems will automatically get worse unless we keep them in the forefront of consciousness. Every potential misfortune is seen as a willful adversary who is waiting to stab us as soon as our back is turned. Or perhaps we have to suffer now to placate bloodthirsty gods. In any case, it feels unaccountably daring not to worry.
The moments squandered in merely waiting—for the bell to ring, the show to start, the good or the bad news to arrive, the bus to come, the traffic to move, the tedious speech to end— add up to a considerable fraction of life. But quite aside from these transitory episodes, we may also be afflicted with an attitude of extended fixation for days or weeks at a time. We cease to do useful work as summer vacation draws near, and we stop enjoying our vacation well before the time of our return. The shadow of the next stage has already fallen on us and