Existential meanderings: On decision paralysis

I have always placed a great deal of importance on my career, and as a result have many times ended up prioritizing it over several things in the personal hemisphere. But of late, these decisions that come so naturally to me have started looking like difficult choices. I often wonder if I'm doing the right thing. Right by whom? Right for what? are questions that I pore over morosely. I write this in the hope that it will bring me some clarity, and help others dealing with similar questions.

My father has had many skirmishes with illness lately, and they have resulted in numerous visits to the hospital. When this first started, my Dad was very shaken, and so was I. My parents, knowing my schedule, did not ask me to accompany them. I felt that they could use the moral support though, and hence, my husband and I went to the hospital despite my parents' insistence to the contrary. My dad was very happy to see us, and later confessed that he'd felt sad that there was no one to go with him. I cried that day, and promised myself that I'd be there for my parents more often. I stayed with them for a few days, and then came home. 

But my promises were words writ on water(borrowing from Keats' tombstone). My parents went to the doctor almost every week, and I always had something else. Recently, I was talking to my mom over phone, and I asked her what the doctor said, and if surgery was a recommendation. She laughingly told me: No, I think the doctor actually feels sorry for me and your Dad. I am myself in my mid-sixties, and here I am accompanying your Dad and Grandpa who are in their seventies and nineties. I am the youngest in this bunch of geriatrics, and the doctor thinks that we have no one else to care for us, and hence feels sorry. I don't think he will recommend anything drastic.

I was about to tell her, You're not alone, you have me! The words died in my throat. I felt like I had no right to utter them. I was yet another absentee child, leaving my parents to fend for themselves. How could I claim that I was there in spirit, when they had to endure all the travails of the flesh alone? What good were my empty hollow words, when my actions did no justice to them? 

At times, I tell myself that these are small things, and that they don't matter. I will be there for the big, monumental events. For those, I will somehow make time. And magically, that will set everything right. 

I knew someone who typically used to work late nights. Then, suddenly, he stopped. I asked him why, and he told me: My daughter is growing up without me. She took her first steps last week, and I wasn't there. I missed out on so many things in the past year, and I've come to realize that these little things are the big things in life. I want to be there for them. So I'm doing things differently now.

Back then, I didn't quite understand what he meant. But now I think I'm starting to see it. I fear that one day, time will run out, and I will never have been there for my parents. That fear clutches me its vice, and yet, I am unable to change my ways. I feel torn.

I took yet another difficult decision recently. I decided not to go to a wedding, a wedding in my husband's first circle. Earlier, I used to be asocial, and weddings were the last thing I'd care about. Marriage has unexpectedly managed to evoke more normalcy from me than my usual eccentricity, and I miss traveling with my husband. I miss all the happy moments- getting dressed, holding hands, the pictures, the memories. Yet, I chose not to go, because I know it is the "right" thing to do. 

Despite that knowledge, I was feeling sad because I felt like I'd sacrificed something. I told this to my mother, that frustratingly quixotic human who never responds the way I expect her to. She laughed at me. Yes, you heard that right. Aghast at that, I asked her why. She said to me: You think you did the right thing, but you're wrong. The moment you think of it as a sacrifice, the point of it is lost. You must never feel that way. You have to feel happy about your choice, and believe in it with utter conviction. It must never make you look back in regret, even for a split second. You must see only your goal, and everything else as a distraction. When you choose your goal over something else, it must be because you want to. Never as a sacrifice.

I could not forget her words that night. They reminded me of something I once read, something that impressed me enough that I put it up my room.

It reads: When one forces oneself to do anything with a feeling of denying oneself other pleasures, then it will never work. The motivation must stem from a choice, a calculated certainty that one trusts unflinchingly. A choice that one makes with no inhibition or reservation, a choice that is only possible when the journey is more important than the destination.

I realized that my mother had told me her truth. This was the philosophy by which she lived her life. She never felt like it was a sacrifice to work late hours. To work weekends. To skip meals. To miss spending time with family. To miss all the places she could have visited. I've always thought that she'd sacrificed a lot to be a doctor, but I've always had it wrong. She never thought of any of it as a sacrifice. It was very clearly what she wanted, and that's how she's made it work for 4 decades of work and counting. She never resented her work for what it demanded from her. 

Today, I've decided to follow in her footsteps and look at things differently. I choose to worship at the shrine of knowledge. I give myself fully and willingly at the altar, not because it is needed, but because I am happy to. I will always try to do justice to my personal responsibilities, but whenever I make a choice to prioritize my career, I will go with it fully. I will not look over my shoulder, and second guess myself. I have chosen this path for myself, and I will walk along it unflinchingly and happily.