Making Up Your Mind & Getting to a Decision
“You could sum up my inability to make a decision in two words: ‘wishy-washy.’ Wait, is that two words or only one? Not sure. Think it’s one word but maybe it’s two. I know that lots of people have trouble with decision-making, but I think mine is epic. I am always of two minds. Or three. Or four.
I envy those people who are certain of themselves. They have no doubts. “This is what I want. This is what I’m doing. This is what I believe. Don’t really care if you agree with me or not.”
Me. I have major doubts about all kinds of stuff. From whom to marry? (Knew I was making a mistake when I said “I do.” But I did.) To what to buy? (I spend way too much time returning stuff.)
When I finally do make a decision, does that end the turmoil?”


Mindfulness is being used in schools, colleges and universities to help teachers and students to improve their attention, interactions with each other, and understanding of others.
According to author and psychiatrist
The day I returned from inpatient therapy, my Lab-Chow mix cuddled up to me on the bed as I cried. She looked into my defeated gaze and licked my tears.
In a
I have some friends who have heard a rumor their company will be making big redundancies soon, and I really feel for them. One thing that’s guaranteed to cause instability in a person — and any organization — is the rumor of redundancy.
In his book
The opposite of depression is not happiness, according to Peter Kramer, author of
Whether you’re experiencing anxiety, depression, anger, jealousy, envy, guilt, hurt or shame, you are most likely (perhaps unintentionally) perpetuating your problem by your thoughts. Let me explain.
As I write this, our thoughts are with those in Boston who were affected by the bombings at the 2013 Boston Marathon.
It’s 3 a.m. and I’m awake. Ordinarily I’d be asleep but right now I’m awake and I don’t like it. Strangely this happens at least once every couple of weeks for me. I just wake up early. No real rhyme or reason, it just happens.
I’m sitting down for my yearly physical with the blood pressure machine in view. From the displeased expression on the nurse’s face, I gather it wasn’t a perfect reading. Instead of jotting the numbers down in her notes, realizing that I’m probably just nervous (because I do have “white coat syndrome”), she sighs and expresses the urgency to take my blood pressure again and again, until she’s satisfied with the result. 