Deciding without endless doubt: how to trust your own judgement

“I’ll just check the reviews one more time, and then I’ll decide.”

It is nearly midnight. On the table there is a laptop with nine open tabs, on the phone a conversation with a friend that begins with “What do you think, should I take this one?”, and in your head a spreadsheet that already has fourteen rows of pros and cons. It is about a new job. Or a flat. Or a pushchair. Or whether to call and book a first therapy session at all. The content hardly matters. What matters is the feeling that remains once the decision is finally made: there is no relief. Instead, a quiet question appears: “What if the other one would have been better?”

I am writing about this because the feeling is familiar to very different people — including those who are decisive, quick and reliable at work. Endless doubt is not a sign that you are foolish or indecisive by nature. It is often a pattern that has its own history and its own logic. And whatever has a logic can be understood and changed.

When a decision is never really made

Most people imagine that the problem of indecisive people is that they cannot decide. That is only half the picture. The other half is that they do decide — but for them the decision is never truly made. After a purchase they keep checking prices for weeks. After signing a contract they lie awake turning over what might have been. After every conversation with their partner about a shared plan, they reopen a question that had already been settled.

For how you feel, this second part is often more exhausting than the first. A decision that stays open consumes attention, like an app running in the background all day and draining the battery. That is why people who decide this way rarely complain that they do not know what they want; they complain that they are tired all the time.

If you recognise yourself in this, you may find it helpful to know a distinction proposed almost seventy years ago by the economist Herbert Simon and later brought into psychology by Barry Schwartz.

Maximisers and satisficers

In 1956 Simon noticed that in the real world people rarely decide the way classical economics assumes — by reviewing every option and picking the best one. Mostly they search until they find something that is good enough for their needs, and stop there. He coined a word for this: satisficing, a blend of “satisfy” and “suffice”.

Almost half a century later, Barry Schwartz and his colleagues developed a questionnaire that measures how far an individual leans towards one style or the other. Maximisers want the best possible choice: they compare, keep searching even when they already have something good, and often check what others have chosen. Satisficers have criteria too, but once they find an option that meets them, they stop — even if they know there may be something better somewhere.

The results were remarkably consistent. People who leaned more towards maximising reported less happiness and optimism, lower life satisfaction, more regret and more signs of depression. They were not less capable. They were more unhappy with what they had chosen.

Even more telling is a study by Sheena Iyengar, Rachael Wells and Schwartz among final-year students looking for their first job. Maximisers landed jobs with starting salaries roughly twenty per cent higher than satisficers. Yet they were less satisfied with their choice, and during the search they felt more pessimistic, anxious and worn out. Objectively they did better; subjectively they did worse. The authors titled their paper exactly that: doing better but feeling worse.

It is important to understand that maximising is not the same as having high standards. A satisficer can have very high criteria — the difference is that they know when those criteria have been met. A maximiser, on the other hand, measures against options they have not yet seen. And since those options never run out, the search never really ends either.

Doubt as a pattern, not a character trait

When I talk with people about how they make decisions, I often hear: “That’s just how I am.” It is true that we differ in temperament. But in relational family therapy, in which I am training, we are also interested in another question: where did this person learn that a wrong choice is so dangerous?

The answers vary a great deal. One person grew up with a parent who met every mistake with “I told you so”. Another quickly realised that there was peace at home only if they chose what their mother would have chosen. A third had parents who decided everything for them, from clothes to university, so they never had the chance to test whether their own judgement would hold. A fourth went through a loss or a shock early on that taught them everything can suddenly turn for the worse.

In all of these stories doubt makes sense. It is a form of caution that once protected — from criticism, from conflict, from shame. The trouble is that the pattern does not update itself. An adult who has every means to judge for themselves and carry the consequences still reacts as if every decision were an exam marked by someone strict.

This is also why doubt often goes hand in hand with other patterns I have written about: with Perfectionism and overthinking: two sides of the same fear, and with the quiet conviction described in Impostor syndrome: why successful people doubt themselves. The common denominator is the sense that your own judgement is not reliable enough on its own — that someone or something outside you has to confirm it.

Where anxiety comes in

Endless deliberation is very often a hidden form of anxiety. Not always the kind you feel as a pounding heart, but the kind that shows up as restlessness in your thoughts. Anxiety researchers speak of intolerance of uncertainty: how hard it is for someone to bear not knowing the outcome in advance. For people who find uncertainty very unpleasant, decision-making turns into an attempt to remove uncertainty before acting.

But with most real decisions, uncertainty cannot be removed. You do not know what the new manager will be like. You do not know whether the neighbours in the new flat will be noisy. You do not know whether the relationship will still be good in ten years. So every new round of checking brings only brief relief — followed straight away by a new question.

Here decision-making comes very close to what psychology calls rumination — circling around the same thoughts, which feels like work but in fact leads nowhere. If it seems to you that your deliberating resolves nothing and only goes round, you may find it helpful to read Thinking isn’t solving: how to tell brooding from real decision-making.

A particular kind of checking is asking other people. You ask a friend, then your sister, then a colleague. Each opinion calms you at first, but because the opinions differ, the doubt only deepens. This pattern of reassurance-seeking is well described in anxiety: in the short term it helps, in the long term it tells you that you cannot judge for yourself.

Why more thinking does not mean a better decision

One of the most stubborn misconceptions is the belief that a decision will be better the longer you think about it. Up to a point, that is true. Beyond that point, extra deliberation does not improve the quality — it just wears you out.

When decisions pile up, what we describe as decision fatigue sets in. A tired person decides more impulsively or puts the decision off — which is itself a decision, only a less conscious one. When the putting off drags on and every choice seems impossible, we speak of decision paralysis; I have written more about why deliberating sometimes becomes a way of avoiding in Decision paralysis: when thinking it over becomes a way of avoiding.

What happens after a decision is interesting too. In an experiment, Daniel Gilbert and Jane Ebert asked participants to choose one of several photographs. Some knew they could swap their choice later; others did not. Most people, when asked in advance, preferred to keep the option of swapping. But those who could change their choice ended up less satisfied with their photograph. When a decision is final, the mind starts looking for its good sides and comes to terms with it. When it stays open, the mind keeps comparing.

This finding matters for people caught in endless doubt. We often want the door to stay open because that seems safer. In reality, an open door often robs us of the peace that comes with a decision that has truly been made.

How it sounds in conversation

This is how part of a conversation in a session might sound (a composite, not a real person):

“I’ve been unable to decide for three weeks whether to accept the offer. I’ve written down all the pros and cons and they’re almost even.”
“What happens inside you when you imagine you’ve already said yes?”
“Relief, first. And then straight away the thought that at the first problem I’ll know I got it wrong.”
“And who will know it?”
Silence. “I think I’ll hear my dad. He always said I was too hasty.”
“So you’re not only choosing between two jobs. You’re also deciding whether this time you can bear his voice.”

In a moment like that, the list of pros and cons suddenly matters less. Not because it is useless, but because it becomes clear that the decision is not being held up by missing information. It is being held up by fear of what a mistake would mean — and in front of whom.

Exercise: a decision that is good enough

If there is a decision you have been turning over for too long, you can do this today. It takes twenty minutes and a sheet of paper.

1. Write down three criteria that really matter to you. Not every possible one — just three. For example: “under half an hour to work”, “at least the income I have now”, “people I feel good around”. If you would like a more structured approach, a decision matrix can help.
2. Set a deadline and a limit on the search. “I’ll look at two more offers and decide by Friday.” Write the deadline down and tell someone.
3. Choose the first option that meets all three criteria. Not the best — the first one that is good enough. Notice what happens in your body when you choose it.
4. Write down the sentence your doubt says — and next to it, whose voice it is. You will often recognise it.
5. Close the door. Unsubscribe from price alerts, close the tabs, stop asking others. For two weeks, allow yourself to live the decision instead of checking it.

The first time it will be uncomfortable. The doubt will speak up, perhaps loudly. But each time you carry a decision through and find that you coped with the consequences, something builds up in you that no study can replace: the experience that your judgement holds. I wrote about how confidence grows from exactly these experiences in Small actions, real confidence: how self-trust grows through experience, not thinking.

What it means to trust your own judgement

We often misunderstand what self-trust in decision-making means. We think it means being certain you are deciding correctly. That would be trust in your own infallibility, which no one has — and which no one should have.

Mature self-trust is something else. It is the conviction that you will be able to live with what you choose, even if it turns out not to have been ideal. That you will notice a mistake, learn something from it and, if needed, change course. It is not about never getting it wrong. It is about a mistake not meaning that you, as a person, are wrong.

That is why the path to calmer decision-making is often linked to your relationship with failure. If a mistake means proof that you are not worth much, you will decide as if you were standing in a courtroom. If you experience a mistake as part of life that you can carry, you can decide more lightly. I write about how to get back on your feet when a decision does not work out in Confidence after failure: how to get back up when things don’t work out.

In relationships this shows up especially clearly. Someone who does not trust their own judgement often leaves decisions to their partner — and then quietly resents it because things did not go their way. Or they reopen every joint decision, which wears their partner out. When one person in a couple begins to truly make decisions, the balance between the two of them often shifts as well.

When doubt is not the problem

I would not want you to read this as an invitation to make quick decisions at any cost. Doubt has its place.

Some decisions deserve time. If you are deciding whether to have a child, whether to leave a long relationship or move to another country, it is reasonable for the decision to ripen over weeks or months. With decisions that cannot be undone, slowness is often a sign of wisdom, not anxiety. The difference lies in whether the deliberating brings new insight or simply goes round in circles.

Maximising is sometimes appropriate. When choosing a surgeon or reviewing a contract that binds you for twenty years, it makes sense to look for the best rather than just good enough. The trouble starts when the same style spills over into choosing a yoghurt, a T-shirt and a restaurant for Saturday.

The research is not as clear-cut as it is sometimes presented. The famous idea that too much choice always paralyses has not been fully confirmed in later studies. A meta-analysis by Benjamin Scheibehenne and colleagues found that the average effect of “choice overload” is close to zero and depends heavily on circumstances. So the point is not that choice is harmful in itself, but how you relate to it.

Sometimes indecision is a sign of something else. Difficulty making decisions is one of the common signs of depression, and also of obsessive-compulsive disorder, where doubt can turn into an irresistible urge to check. If indecision comes with long-lasting low mood, loss of pleasure, sleep problems or thoughts you cannot shake off, it is wise to talk to your GP or a psychiatrist. If you are having thoughts that it would be better if you were not here, call the Mental Distress Helpline on 01 520 99 00 in Slovenia (every day from 19.00 to 7.00) or the Samaritan confidential line on 116 123 in Slovenia (24 hours a day). In an emergency, call 112.

What to remember

• Endless doubt is not a character flaw but often a learned pattern that once protected you from criticism or shame.
• People who look for the best choice (maximisers) often do objectively better but are less satisfied with their choice than those who look for good enough.
• Checking and asking others calm anxiety briefly, but in the long run they keep the circle of doubt going.
• A decision you truly make, closing the door behind it, brings more peace than one that stays open.
• Trusting your judgement does not mean being infallible, but believing that you will be able to carry the consequences and change course.