Sitting on the Fence

Rachel called, crying—sobbing, really. “I can’t do this anymore.”

I waited for the sobbing to subside and asked, “Can’t do what?”

In considerable detail, she explained how she was part of a family business, with parents and siblings, and had been for years. But she HATED it. It was a high pressure business, but that was not the principal problem. She was, in fact, good at solving problems under pressure, but she hated the constant obligation and guilt associated with pleasing her family.

“How long have you felt obligated to please your family?” I asked

“For years, probably all my life.”

“How much longer do you want to be a slave to people who don’t genuinely care about you?”

“I want to stop it all right now, but if I do, they’ll be angry. They’ll tell me I let them down, and they’ll keep it up until I feel horrible.”

“So, you want to stop the pain, but if you do, you’re afraid of the pain that will follow.”

“Yes.”

“You’re on the fence.”

“Yes.”

Sitting on the fence can be very dangerous, because often the fence is topped by moving saw blades. As we sit there, we are cut in half by our indecision. While we fail to make difficult decisions—as Rachel did—we continue to be weakened and even destroyed by the unloving behaviors and lies that surround us, along with our own fears. If we wish to be happy, we must get off the fence, despite the difficulties that might follow from our choices.