Monday, June 27, 2016

A Terrifying Realization

I had an odd realization yesterday, poking at things on facebook and following rabbit trails where they lead on the internet. I was reading an article about how kids raised in strict (or strongly religious) homes react differently to some situations than others, and there were about 50 examples given, some by friends and observers, and some by people who had moved out and still lived very much the way they did at home, and some of the struggles with being a functional adult from that kind of situation.

One of the things that stuck out, over and again, was the inability to make decisions. I can not begin to express that panic I feel when I am asked to choose something if I was not prepared to know a choice needed to be made. I even do it when eating out, reading the menu and mentally preparing myself for The Choice. It's not about the food, the price, the company. It's The Choice.

There was a moment in my youth I can only barely remember that was echoed recently as someone said in an authoritative tone, "You need to make a choice" with a pause, and an expectant face, that was losing patience.

I CAN NOT DO THAT. I tend to have panic attacks when UNEXPECTED CHOICE presents itself. And I don't mean I get a little nervous, I mean full blown tachycardia, WHAT EVEN IS HAPPENING, NO NO NO.

It's not that I don't know what I want even, because when I know there is a choice I can prepare myself for it to an extent. It's the surprise choices, where I can't just go, I'll do what (that guy) did. I'll have what he's having. Whatever you like, I don't mind, honest.

I am only just realizing that I do this all day every day when put into any situation where cultural expectation requires choices. In a restaurant, I ask what others are getting, and will frequently get what someone else is getting. If it's a familiar setting, I will order the exact same item every single time, so that I do not have to make THE CHOICE. The safe (I know I can eat this) choice. Or I ask a friend what they like there. Let them pick.

Even when it came to going back to school I had so much anxiety picking out my classes. I was so thankful there was a guidebook telling me which classes I needed for my degree, and roughly in which order to take them. My work schedule made it easier to go, "I can only have classes that are during these days and roughly between these times." I also could make these choices quietly at home or in the library, instead of having a panic attack trying to pick my classes like I did for first semester.

So, when someone tells me, in any tone, any setting "You have to choose" I freeze. I can't choose, please don't make me choose. I can not even handle the responsibility of choosing. PLEASE NO. I will choose neither. I can't choose.

I have no idea whether this really has anything to do with how I was raised or if it plays into my mental health stuff, but realizing it is terrifying. How can I be a functional adult if I can't make choices?

There is no training that I am aware of, that I can take to help me learn how to choose. That it is okay to choose. That no one is going to be angry at me if I choose wrong. That there is not truly a WRONG choice.

I am such a headcase.

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About Me

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I'm Rory or Rorek in most places. I design, sew, and craft, primarily for my Asian Ball-Jointed Dolls. I also dabble in interior design, but I'm a little out of practice.

I post about the things I enjoy, which are sewing, photographing my dolls, designing new outfits, knitting, which I started in September of 2008, thanks to my Mom, and occasionally drawing, or painting.

I also post about Life Events and how they affect me and those that I love.

Currently I am living in DFW, Texas in the USA and working towards a degree in Theology.