Every day, we make tens of thousands of decisions, most of which we're not aware of. Shoes or sandals? What pair of socks? Paper or plastic? The list is endless. Not all of these decisions are obviously decisions--our brain likes to take shortcuts. If there's snow on the ground, I'm obviously going to choose shoes over sandals. That one's a no brainer. These shortcuts are essentially an energy saver- our brain is a limited resource. It can only do so much thinking. To save time (and energy), we have habits or patterns. We drive the same route to work. We flip through the channels in the same order. We eat the same flavor of ice cream out of the same bowl with the same spoon. Okay, maybe that last one is just me. Decisions are hard to make.
It's why, ultimately, we're creatures of habit. Simply, it's easier.
Scientists have come up with a name for why we get so tired after we have to decide something: decision fatigue. It's the subject of a recent New York Times article:
Decision fatigue helps explain why ordinarily sensible people get angry at colleagues and families, splurge on clothes, buy junk food at the supermarket and can’t resist the dealer’s offer to rustproof their new car. No matter how rational and high-minded you try to be, you can’t make decision after decision without paying a biological price. It’s different from ordinary physical fatigue — you’re not consciously aware of being tired — but you’re low on mental energy. The more choices you make throughout the day, the harder each one becomes for your brain, and eventually it looks for shortcuts, usually in either of two very different ways. One shortcut is to become reckless: to act impulsively instead of expending the energy to first think through the consequences. (Sure, tweet that photo! What could go wrong?) The other shortcut is the ultimate energy saver: do nothing. Instead of agonizing over decisions, avoid any choice. Ducking a decision often creates bigger problems in the long run, but for the moment, it eases the mental strain. You start to resist any change, any potentially risky move — like releasing a prisoner who might commit a crime. So the fatigued judge on a parole board takes the easy way out, and the prisoner keeps doing time.
The highlights are mine.
That's my default mechanism: when I'm stressed, when my brainpower is at an ebb, I default into anxious rituals of indecision. ED behaviors are a way to avoid any choice. They're ritualized, prescribe. Once they start, they continue of their own accord. They let the world pass me by without ruffling my feathers.
It also seems to me that the ED is a way to avoid decision fatigue. When I'm in AN mode, my decisions are much more limited. Eat only the lowest calorie options. Say no. Weigh myself again. And again. Get back on the treadmill. There's no decisions involved*, just commandments. That life is on autopilot, and it's uniquely positioned to limit decision fatigue.
I don't have to face the anxiety over deciding what to eat and when, and even with what utensils, because I eat the same thing, every day, on the same plate with the same cutlery. I don't have to decide where I want to go out to eat because I'm not going out to eat. If I do have to go out, I order the house salad, dressing on the side, and a Diet Coke. No menu (or decision) required. My life becomes prescribed and circumscribed by the anorexia. It's a hellish existence, a very limited one, but then there's this: it's easier.
Author Barry Schwartz calls it The Paradox of Choice. If you haven't read his book, definitely go do so. I think it goes a long way to explain some facets of ED thinking.
Besides being fatiguing, decisions are usually anxiety provoking. Most decisions actually result in minimal anxiety. After all, wearing the wrong pair of socks can make your feet sweat or make your shoes look funny, but this rarely results in lasting harm. The problem with decisions--the reason I think they provoke anxiety--is that they're a turning point. Once you've chosen a car, it's hard to un-choose that. Ditto for the socks, once you've left the house if you're not carrying a spare pair.
An eating disorder is the ultimate un-decision. You avoid everything. Sure, it saves you the anxiety over actually making a decision, but it also costs you a lot, too. Recovery means learning to face the decision anxiety and accepting it as part of normal life. I'm guessing lots of us retain our mental shortcuts and rituals that help us avoid anxiety (and decision making), but our brains take on lots more.
Have you developed strategies to deal with decision fatigue? Do you find yourself falling into similar traps? Share in the comments!
*At least, no real conscious decisions.
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