You Might Understand Me Better After this Post.

Alright. Picture the world's most adorable three-ish year old (see photo above). I was, if I do say so myself, quite cute back then. This very picture actually graced the cover of our town newspaper, The Glenview Announcements, in the mid eighties because they felt the need to display my cuteness to the whole town, apparently. It now hangs in the stairway at my parents' house in Chicago.

So, one day little Maggie was busy coloring, one of the things I always have done best (ask my college roommates), and decided to color a picture of an elephant. I must pause to let you know that this is one of my mom's top five all time favorite stories about me. One of a select few of those go-to "tell your friends/future husband/me-when-I-need-to-hear-it" stories in which my true colors were shining even as a three year old. I was sitting at the table, coloring like usual, being all quiet and angelic while the boys were probably running around, making my mom crazy racing and crashing and breaking stuff or whatever it was that they did while I tried to mind my own business. So I started picking out colors for a simple elephant picture and began to panic. From Sue's recollection of the story, it went something like this:


Little Mags: "Ummm, Mom? I don't know what color to color the elephant."
Mom: "Well, honey, what color do you want the elephant to be?"
Little Mags: "I don't know! I can't color it grey, because that's too boring. And I'd like to color it pink, but there are too many pink elephants!"
Mom: (probably trying not to laugh at her daughter) "Okay, maybe blue?"
Little Mags: (at this point my mom swears I was becoming increasingly worked up, on the verge of tears) "Well, blue might be nice. Or green. Or, maybe I could make him a lot of colors, like plaid, or polka dotted, or some other pattern. But maybe he would like to be yellow, or dark red, or orange..."


I kid you not. I have heard this story more times than I can count, and at this point she says I totally broke down. Freaked out. Got so overwhelmed with my options that I could not possibly come to terms with sticking to any one of my fine options. She didn't know what to do with little anxious OCD color conscious, incapable of making a decision Maggie. I, at the idea of having to choose just one color for the elephant, came entirely unglued.

I tell you this because my mom reminded me of the story the other day. Apparently, fight it as I do in my adult life, this is the way that I am wired. I may, at times, seem to know what I want and confidently and independantly make good decisions for myself. Sometimes I do. But, the majority of the time, I am more like this image of little Maggie. Paralyzed to the point of near inaction in the face of a decision, big or small. Afraid of missed opportunities, hurting someone else's feelings, or hurting myself. Afraid of failing, or maybe afraid of succeeding. Afraid of change, and afraid of always staying the same. I'm afraid of missing out, ordering the wrong menu item, getting tired, saying the wrong thing, or picking the wrong color.

So I deliberate. And I waver. And I call Emily. I make lists. And I talk to whoever will listen, not for their advice really, but because it helps me to talk it out. I make myself crazy mulling over options. Then I wait. And I get stuck and frustrated in the waiting.

I know that we are each uniquely, fearfully and wonderfully made; but this is something about myself that I think could use a little refining. So in 2009 I'll be trying to work on my decision making abilities, I think. It's a cute story, yes. But I would like it to be a little less true of my adult self today. I know that my optimistic and active imagination will probably always consider every angle of every situation, and that many times there isn't a simple solution- so thoroughly working through the options is healthy. But I need, more often than not, to be better at the decision making process.

Although, I admit. There is definitely something beautiful and maybe poetic about a little kid coloring a patchwork multicolored elephant and being satisfied with weaving together the best of all the options and making it work; which I'm told by the way, was the result of the little tantrum.