Part 2: Trying it on
the decision that took a year
A common phrase in my family is “try it on for size.”
When you’re out shopping for a new spring jacket or winter boots, you want to try the items on to see how they fit. Are the arms too long? Shoulders too tight? Length just right? We want to try something on to determine which size to get.
This concept of “trying on” can also be applied to decision making.
Growing up, and still today, my sister and I are encouraged to try on a decision before making it official. This means we’ll tell ourselves we decided on Option A and pay attention to how that “decision” feels. What parts are too big? Too small? Just right? We would then do the same with Option B and so on.
A common obstacle to making a decision is the unknown. We can know which option we’ll pick but how all the pieces will fall into place can be unpredictable. The discernment tactic of “trying on” a decision can help us to recognize when the fear of the unknown is overpowering the excitement of something new.
After I spent a few months considering the idea of moving, I knew that my next step was to “try on" the decision to leave Portland. I needed to see how it fit, where it was too tight, too loose… or just right.
I needed to actually try moving away.
So, I made a very simple* (read as: in-depth with multiple steps) plan and put it into action.
Step #1: Secure a job where I can work fully remote from Oregon, Minnesota, or anywhere else.
Step #2: For six months, call Minnesota my home base and prioritize being closer to family while visiting Portland and checking off a few bucket list travel spots.
Step #3: Try it out! Take the time to notice where the decision felt comfortable or needed a different color.
I arrived back in Minnesota just before Christmas in 2022 and moved in with my parents. I remember rolling my giant suitcase down the stairs and into a guest room. I plopped onto the bed, stared at the ceiling, and it all hit me:
I had packed up my entire life into a 5x10 metal box disguised as a storage unit. I said see-ya-later to the best of friends and the most supportive community. I left my cute house in the city with fun roommates to live with my parents in a small town.
What did I just do?
In that moment, knowing that I was just “trying it on” brought me comfort. I knew I could change my mind and return to the life I had built on the west coast.
The six months slowly tumbled into a year. I didn’t visit Portland that often or permanently move back like I hoped. I traveled to 15 states and five national parks. I used the drastic change of pace to finally write the book I had been dreaming about.1 I paid off student debt that had been lingering on my horizon. I got time with my newborn niece that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I became better friends with my parents as an adult. I did the mundane Target shopping with my sister.
The challenge with “trying on” as a discernment tactic is getting stuck with one foot in the door and the other out.
While I was trying out living in Minnesota, returning to Portland was always on my radar. For a year I was living in a constant state of “deciding.” I finally had to admit to myself that I had made a decision and that decision was to stay.
Trying on a decision won’t give us the power to anticipate every outcome or see how all the pieces could fall into place. We will never fully know what a decision will feel like until we make it. But, trying it on helps us to see how the fear of the unknown overpowers the excitement of something new.
My year of deciding and living in Minnesota helped me to see that starting over wasn’t so scary, that long-distance friendships can be maintained, and change can often be accompanied by surprise.
To the person afraid of the unknown or pending change, consider these questions as you “try on” your options:
What exactly is unknown?
Where is there an invitation for me to use my gifts and strengths? Where is there an invitation for me to grow?
When I’ve experienced change or been afraid of the unknown before, what has helped me step forward?
Shameless plug, snag a copy of Audacious: Redefining the Space Between a Bold Request and an Unimaginable Answer.