Making minor, everyday decisions shouldn’t be so difficult. But having Parkinson’s sometimes makes me feel like I’m a character in a fairy tale, faced with a dilemma about what’s the right thing to do. Suddenly, deciding what shoes to wear or what to have for lunch becomes a major concern, sending my anxiety through the roof.

Yesterday, I became acutely aware of all the tiny, automatic decisions people make daily without a second thought—and how much I struggle with them.

I met my fellow “Parkie” friend, Ryan, for lunch and a visit to a chocolate shop. From the start, you could see we both wrestled with indecision. Before even getting to our meeting location, I vacillated over what to wear, which podcast to listen to on the drive, and which route to take. Then, once I arrived—where should I park? Should I call or text my friend to say I had arrived? Ryan later said he wasn’t sure where to park either and couldn’t decide which corner to meet me on.

After a warm greeting, I asked Ryan, “What do you feel like having for lunch? Does salad sound good? There’s a salad place down this street. I’ve never been there, but I saw their menu online. It looks good.” “Sure,” he said. “Sounds good.” That was easy. But then we had to decide which side of the street to walk on and where to cross. We couldn’t just automatically start walking in the direction of the restaurant.

A block later, we saw a restaurant on the opposite corner that serves pho. I pointed it out and remarked that it was new. Ryan offered, “Should we have pho instead?” I said, “Sure, if you’re sure you don’t really want salad.” We stood there, both of us with expressions of anguish over this dilemma. Salad or pho?! We discussed it and eventually settled on pho.

But the decisions didn’t stop there. Where to sit? What to drink? What to eat? Appetizers or just pho? When we finally placed our order, we sighed with such relief you’d think we had just passed a DMV written test!

Lunch was great—both the food and the conversation. Afterward, it was time to head to the chocolate shop. Again, as if by committee, we decided which corner to cross and which side of the street to walk on. We made it to the chocolate shop, where of course, more choices awaited. What to buy?! At least we couldn’t go wrong here—it’s chocolate!

We topped off our visit by navigating our way to a coffee shop a few blocks away. At the counter, they had a bunch of pastries. Ryan loves pastries. He kept pointing to different ones, saying “That one,” but then he’d spot another and change his mind. Meanwhile, I couldn’t decide between a cappuccino, latte, or macchiato. The counter person was very patient with us. We had our coffee and pastry, walked back to our cars, said goodbye and “Let’s do it again!” 

The decisions waiting for me the rest of the day still weighed on my brain. They lined up in a queue that seemed to stretch back into infinity, swirling around my head, each waiting for its turn. Some decisions used a hammer to force me to make a choice, some drilled into my brain, and some skipped by, waving and taunting as they passed. This queue regenerates every day.

Even now, I’m struggling to decide how to end this essay. So, to avoid more anxiety, I’m just going to end it here. There, I’m done. Yes. No, now I’m done. Okay?