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Decisions, Decisions…

By Jennifer Cook O’Toole
Autism Asperger’s Digest  July/August 2014

In your life, I hope that you will allow yourself to be sad, but never allow yourself to be unhappy. Well, actually, I’d rather you were neither, of course. I’d love for every day of your life to be filled with adventure and joy and anticipation. But that’s not going to happen. And my telling you so isn’t a buzzkill/gee-thanks-a-lot-Jennifer. It’s a friend being honest because you deserve it and can handle it. Sad is a mood. It’s real—but temporary. Unhappy, though, well, that’s a state of being. And it’s an awful, trapped, stifling place to be.

Real life isn’t a little angel on one shoulder and a little devil on the other, both whispering in your ear and vying for your attention. That’s just not how it works. Instead, as you get older, you’ll find that you must make choices where the good decision feels absolutely terrible…and you’d give anything to avoid certain hurt for an uncertain “possibly improved” future.

Let me give you an example. There’s an old country song called “Unanswered Prayers” that tells the story of a man, now grown. One evening, he accidentally meets a woman who, years before, had been his first love. They are both married to other people now. But upon seeing her, the man remembers how desperately he had once hoped, with every atom of his being, that this woman would be his forever and ever.

I remember being told that life isn’t like a drive-through restaurant where we can order up whatever we want. You can’t just walk up to a guy at a counter somewhere and say:

“Hi, I’d like this particular girlfriend for the next, umm, 40 years, please.”
“OK, and would you like kids with that order, sir?”
“Sure. Why not?”

For the man in the song, the twist is that his prayer hadn’t gone unanswered. It just happened that the answer was someone else—someone, it turned out, he’d love even more. But let’s be honest. When your heart is actually breaking, that’s your reality—not some future possibility that you can’t even fathom. So, I’d reimagine the drive-through a little bit closer to this:

“Hi, I’d like this particular girlfriend for the next, umm, 40 years, please.”
“No. Sorry. Not going to happen that way.”
“Excuse me? I said, ‘Please.’”
“Yup. Still not happening that way. Don’t worry. There’s great stuff ahead, but not with this person.”
“I don’t understand! I don’t want to lose what makes me happy! I don’t want to feel lonely, or rejected, or sad. I really, really don’t want to hurt! I’m happy! I want this!”
“I know, sir. Sad stinks. But unhappy is worse.”
“What! What’s the difference?”
“Sad is a mood, sir. It hurts like heck, but it will pass. Unhappy is much bigger. It’s regret and longing and feeling trapped and scared and alone. And it doesn’t go away. And you know you deserve better.”

At many points ahead, you will be faced with situations that make you want to stomp your feet and bang your fists and yell, “But I don’t wanna!”

It may be, “I don’t wanna break up,” or “I don’t wanna move,” or “I don’t wanna change schools,” or “I don’t wanna follow the rules.” But it won’t matter. I get that. I’ve been there. So. Many. Times. I’ve been there as a kid, teen, young adult, and parent. Choosing to stay behind while my entire school music department went on a cross-country adventure because I had a hugely important advanced placement end-of-year exam the day after the return, and I knew I’d be too exhausted to give it my all. That’d mean a less impressive college application and a year’s worth of serious academic dedication thrown away. Yet not going on the trip would mean I’d be left out of the memory making, and, I feared, left out of everything in times to come. In the end, I didn’t go on the music exchange; instead, I cried the whole weekend. Come Monday, though, I rocked that exam. And while there were a few stories I’d not be able to be a part of, nothing else changed because I’d been absent from one adventure.

There have been so many other examples. Romance that began like a fairy tale and turned out to be anything but…meaning I had to end a relationship with someone I still loved. And even though it would cause deep sadness and shatter dreams I’d held precious, that breakup was the right decision. The trouble was how much I allowed to go wrong before I put a stop to things. Why?

I’d say fear of pain. By design, pain is a good thing. As babies, pain is our teacher. After an “ouchie” or two, we learn what hurts, and the fear of it protects us. Avoiding a burn from a hot stove is a good thing. Avoiding a cut from a sharp knife? Also good. But when the pain we fear is emotional—sorrow, loneliness, shame—there’s a difference. That fear doesn’t protect us; it paralyzes us like a caterpillar too afraid of change to climb into the chrysalis. It doesn’t know that wonder is ahead, just that the familiar will be gone. We’re much the same. Terrified of heartache, we bury our heads and avoid tough decisions. We take what other people dish out. We surrender our dignity, endanger our safety, and cut ourselves off from life’s most magical opportunities.

Part of growing up means learning that being brave means being afraid but doing it anyway. It means learning that sometimes, the scariest, saddest decisions of all are the very best you’ll ever make. It means trusting that you, and all you are and will be, will get to the other side of sad…and that when it seems as though everything is falling apart, it may be that because of your courage everything is actually falling into place.

BIO
Jennifer O’Toole, winner of the 2012 Temple Grandin Award, is an Aspie
(married to an Aspie) with three Asperkids of her own! Her conversationalist presentation of useful insights has touched hearts, lightened spirits, and even led to the founding of Asperkids, LLC, a multimedia social education company. Jennifer is the author of five books, including The Asperkid’s (Secret) Book of Social Rules.

Copyright © Autism Asperger’s Digest. 2014. All Rights Reserved. Any distribution, print or electronic, prohibited without permission of author.

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