I spend too much time justifying my decisions to other people. I also spend too much time considering how others will perceive my decisions before I make them. I’m starting to think that life is far too short to be spending so much time worrying about the minds of other people.
I try to tell myself: You are not Professor X. You cannot read or control anyone’s thoughts. And at the end of all your worrying and consideration and justification, you’ll (hopefully) end up doing what makes you happy, anyway. Why not skip all the middle-ground mental anguish and go straight to the being happy?
And yet, in my anxiety-riddled cranium, I cannot help but overthink and obsess and come up with the perfect words to justify each of my decisions. I then repeat these words to every single person who asks where I’m working or what I’m doing in school or what I had for lunch out of polite obligation.
When I decided to take that retail job, even though I had a better job already and I really didn’t need the extra 30 hours a week, I justified my tail off. I told everyone it would be so great. This company is going to be so different, and I’m going to be on the management team, and I’ll get paid really well to sell clothes I really like. Three months later, when I decided to quit that retail job because this company wasn’t different, and the clothes got uglier, and my boss’s boss turned out to be the spawn of Satan, I also spent a good deal of time justifying. This way, I’ll have all my nights and weekends free, and I get paid more at my other job, anyway, and…well, you get the picture.
I do this with my parents. I do this with my friends. I do this with the woman who sort of knows my grandma and sort of recognized me and thought she better say hello. I’m exaggerating, of course, but not by much. I just feel like I need to have a reason that will be universally accepted for every single thing that I do.
I’m the worst, however, with my boyfriend’s mother. To be fair, she’s easily the most intimidating woman I’ve ever met. I still don’t fully understand what her job is, but I know she’s in the business side of the banking industry and she gets paid a lot of money to make more money appear. She’s the same height as me, which as a 6 foot tall female is rare, and she wears pant suits but doesn’t get that weird camel toe thing I can’t seem to avoid. She runs 20 kilometres every day. I don’t think there’s an ounce of fat on her legs. Once, at Montana’s, the server brought her the wrong salad, so we received three additional salads and two plates of fries for free.
On top of this, her son is going to be a doctor. I just can’t get over the fact that she raised a doctor. This, apparently, means that she must expect such wonders out of me, though I am not her child, and that I must be heavily disappointing her by not saving lives for a living. And so, every time she asks me about where I’m working or what I’m doing for school or what I had for lunch, I turn into Captain Justification. Well, I mean, I have this job at the paper, and it’s just on campus, but I’m actually getting paid, which is pretty cool…Well, I mean, I’m doing my master’s in English, which probably seems kind of pointless, but they’re funding me, which is pretty cool…Well, I mean, I did have McDonald’s again, which seems bad, but I got the side salad with my McNuggets, and that’s only 200 calories, which is pretty cool…
She must be exhausted from hearing about how “pretty cool” my life is. Paulette, if you’re reading this, I’m so sorry.
Rationally, I don’t think she’s judging any of my decisions. I honestly think that 99 per cent of people do not have the time to spend judging me for my decisions. Potentially, this is because they are so occupied by worry and justification of their own decisions. This, however, leads to a very vicious circle, in which everyone is spending large quantities of time justifying their decisions to other people who are too busy justifying their decisions to even really listen.
I think that if I just owned my decisions, no one would give it a second thought. It’s like when they tell you not to make “summary statements” on your resume, but rather to make “accomplishment statements.” I mean, I love my job at the paper, and I’m able to write and edit and pitch ideas and get paid to do something that I’m passionate about. But when I just summarize it, it not only sounds less impressive, but I sound less excited about it. I could just be “doing my master’s in English,” but really, I’m doing my master’s because I get to continue to learn about this industry of words that I love so dearly, and I got there by working my ass off to get the kind of grades that not only get you into a top program but also secure you funding.
If you’ve read this far, you’re either thinking, Wow, this girl is crazy. Who spends this much time worrying about what other people think? Or, you’re thinking, Wow, finally, a kindred spirit in this world. I am so inspired by these words and I too will start to speak about my decisions in accomplishment statements instead of in justifications. To the former, I apologize, particularly if you are that almost-friend of my grandmother to whom I spent 10 minutes justifying my working in retail when all you wanted to do was buy your damn shirt and get out of the store. To the latter, I hope you love whatever it is you’re doing, even if you worry that other people don’t love that you love it. Maybe I’ll see you sometime, busily justifying your newest job or relationship or lunch choice, and we’ll exchange a knowing look, and we’ll both go on to spend at least a full 24 hours owning our decisions instead of justifying them. And maybe, just maybe, sometime down the road, we’ll become the kind of people who look back on our former justifying selves thinking, Wow, this girl is crazy. I’m so glad I don’t spend this much time worrying about what other people think.