The Anatomy of Decision

When “decision” lands at the end of a line and doesn’t fit, it breaks —
“decis-” on one line, “-ion” on the next.
Divided. Split. Just like most of the choices it describes.

In Middle High German, the original meaning of Entscheidung (decision) was literal:
“to cut apart.”
To slice one thing from another.
In practice, it means cutting off all other options until only one remains.
Brutal. Final. Necessary.
No wonder the word feels like a divorce.

From many possibilities, we select one —
and make the situation suddenly, terrifyingly without alternative.

Decisions look light-footed from the outside.
They are not.
Each one carries weight — in the mind, in the heart, sometimes in the stomach.
Whoever decides must stumble through uncertainty until the outcome
finally appears and does its quiet work.

The process, of course, has steps.
First, the facts must be laid out neatly on the table — the so-called
“spread of circumstances.”
Then comes the sorting, judging, and balancing.
It’s like floating slowly but inevitably toward a waterfall of choice.

There’s that one magical moment — the point of no return —
where thinking stops and gravity takes over.
After that, the current does the rest.
(And yes, that applies to more than just divorces.)

But there’s always the fine print — the emotional appendix.
Emotions.

They sneak into the room, rearrange the light, and tint the facts
in soft, seductive colors.
Their logic is foggy but persuasive.
And anyone still alive inside can’t easily resist them.

Then, just before the final leap,
comes the social noise:
What will the friends say?
The neighbours? The family?
The chorus of well-meaning experts, armed with opinions and hindsight.
How’s anyone supposed to stay objective through that?

And the numbers? Oh, they’re staggering.
Scientists estimate that the average person makes about
35,000 conscious decisions every single day.
Children, only around 3,000.

So how does anyone get anything done
while constantly deciding between cereal or toast,
left shoe or right shoe first, this street or that one?

Thankfully, most decisions are small — almost invisible.
Which shirt to wear.
What to eat.
Which task first.
They barely register.

But the big ones — the irreversible, consequence-heavy ones —
they leave marks.
They shape us, test us, sometimes split us.

A minority of choices, yes —
but a majority of consequences.