The Decision You Can’t Quite Make (and Why It Feels So Hard)

Aurora Center for Psychology and Wellbeing
Mar 22
4 min read

Choosing tomatoes at a local co-op while reflecting on everyday decisions

I was standing in front of the vegetables at the co-op, trying to decide which tomatoes would make a better sauce.

This is often how it starts.

A small decision. Low stakes. Slightly disproportionate attention.

I picked up one container, then another.These looked brighter.Those looked softer.I briefly imagined future versions of myself making a perfect sauce, as if this choice mattered more than it did.

And then, just next to me, I heard:

“I just don’t know. I keep going back and forth.”

Not about tomatoes.

A woman, maybe in her 40s, was holding a basket in one hand and her phone in the other, speaking quietly, but with that familiar tone of someone who has been thinking about something for a long time.

“I could stay. It’s not terrible. But I don’t feel like myself anymore. And leaving feels… huge.”

Pause.

“I just wish someone could tell me what the right decision is.”

I stayed very focused on the tomatoes.

The Kind of Decision That Doesn’t Resolve

There’s a particular kind of decision that doesn’t feel like a decision.

It doesn’t present itself clearly.It doesn’t move toward resolution.It lingers.

You think about it in small moments:while cooking, driving, standing in front of vegetables.

Stay or go. Say yes or no. Hold on or let go.

It’s not confusion, exactly.

It’s something more layered.

The Assumption That There Must Be a Right Answer

At some point, the mind becomes convinced that the difficulty lies in not having found the right answer yet.

If you think about it long enough, carefully enough, the answer will appear.

But many of these decisions are not difficult because they are unclear.

They are difficult because more than one thing is true.

Often, what we’re trying to do in these moments is reduce uncertainty by telling ourselves a more definitive story. As I explored in another everyday example, small shifts in interpretation can change how we experience a situation.

When Two Truths Coexist

“I could stay. It’s not terrible.”“I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

Both true.

And that’s where the tension lives.

Because when both sides carry meaning, choosing one can feel like losing something important.

The mind doesn’t like this.

It prefers a clean answer.

So it tries to push toward resolution: “Just decide.” “You’re overthinking.” “You should know by now.”

But sometimes the discomfort is not a problem to fix.

It’s a sign that something matters.

Thoughtful woman pausing while choosing between options in a grocery store

What’s Happening Internally

In moments like this, different parts of us are often pulling in different directions.

One part may want safety, stability, predictability. Another may want growth, change, alignment.

One part fears regret. Another fears staying stuck.

They are not confused.

They are trying to protect you, from different kinds of loss.

And so the decision doesn’t resolve.

It deepens.

In some therapeutic approaches, such as Internal Family Systems (IFS), these internal pulls are understood as different “parts” of us trying to protect against different outcomes. You can read more about how this works in moments of change here.

Why Decisions Feel So Hard (Even When Nothing Is Urgent)

Unresolved decisions keep the system active.

There’s no closure. No clear direction. No signal that it’s safe to settle.

So the mind keeps returning to it. Not because you’re indecisive.

But because something meaningful is still being negotiated.

A Different Way to Hold the Question

I don’t know what that woman at the co-op eventually decided.

I did eventually choose the tomatoes.

Not because I became certain they were the right ones, but because at some point, I stopped trying to find the perfect answer and just moved forward.

I left thinking about how often we approach these moments as problems to solve quickly, instead of experiences to understand more fully.

Instead of asking: “What’s the right decision?”

We might ask: “What feels true on each side?” “What is each part of me trying to protect?” “What would it be like to stay here, briefly, without forcing resolution?”