You've made the decision. You picked the job, ended the relationship, booked the trip. And then, like clockwork, the doubts creep in. What if I chose wrong? Maybe I should reconsider. This mental tug-of-war isn't a character flaw—it's your brain doing exactly what it's designed to do.

The problem is that second-guessing every choice creates decision fatigue, erodes your confidence, and often leads to worse outcomes than sticking with your original call. Understanding why this happens—and building simple systems to manage it—can transform you from a chronic waverer into someone who decides with clarity and moves forward with conviction.

Here's something fascinating about your brain: the moment you commit to a decision, it starts working overtime to make you feel good about it. Psychologists call this post-decision dissonance reduction. You suddenly notice all the flaws in the option you rejected and all the benefits of the one you chose. That apartment you didn't pick? Too far from the grocery store anyway.

This mental gymnastics is actually helpful most of the time. It prevents you from living in perpetual regret and helps you commit resources to making your choice work. The person who fully commits to their new job tends to perform better than the one constantly wondering if they should have taken the other offer.

But this same mechanism can backfire. When you make a genuinely poor decision, your brain's tendency to justify it can blind you to obvious problems. You stay in the wrong job, the wrong city, the wrong relationship—not because the evidence supports staying, but because your mind has become a skilled defense attorney for the status quo.

Takeaway

Your brain automatically defends decisions you've made, which usually helps you commit and succeed—but be aware that this same process can keep you stuck in genuinely bad choices that need reconsidering.

A commitment device is anything that makes it harder for your future self to reverse a decision. It sounds restrictive, but it's actually liberating. When reversal isn't an easy option, your brain stops wasting energy on doubt and redirects that energy toward making the decision work.

The simplest commitment devices are social. Tell people about your choice. Put it in writing. Make the deposit. Delete the dating app. These small actions create friction against backtracking—not because you can't undo them, but because undoing them requires effort and explanation. Your brain is fundamentally lazy; it often accepts the choice simply because reversing it feels like too much work.

More sophisticated commitment devices involve removing future options entirely. Sell the car when you move to the city. Unsubscribe from job alerts after accepting an offer. The legendary strategist Cortés supposedly burned his ships upon landing in Mexico—extreme, but it certainly eliminated the 'maybe we should go back' committee meeting.

Takeaway

Before you finalize a decision, ask yourself: what one action could I take right now that would make reversing this choice significantly harder? Then do it.

Here's the trap: some decisions genuinely should be reconsidered, but most shouldn't. How do you tell the difference without falling into endless rumination? You set reopening criteria at the moment you make the decision—specific, observable conditions that would justify revisiting your choice.

The key word is specific. 'I'll reconsider if this job doesn't work out' is useless—your anxious brain will always find evidence that things aren't working. Instead, try: 'I'll reconsider this job if I'm still dreading Monday mornings after six months, or if my salary hasn't increased by year two.' Now you have clear triggers, not vague feelings.

Write these criteria down and put them somewhere you'll see them when doubt strikes. When the second-guessing starts, you don't have to engage with it—you just check your criteria. If the conditions aren't met, the decision stays closed. This transforms 'should I reconsider?' from an open-ended anxiety spiral into a simple yes-or-no lookup.

Takeaway

At the moment of decision, write down 2-3 specific, measurable conditions that would justify reopening this choice—then refuse to reconsider unless those exact conditions are met.

Changing your mind isn't inherently bad—rigidity can be just as costly as indecision. The goal isn't to never reconsider, but to reconsider deliberately rather than reactively. Make the choice, commit through action, and define in advance what would actually justify a change.

Most decisions deserve less mental energy than we give them. Lock in your choice, redirect your mental resources toward execution, and save your reconsideration bandwidth for the rare moments when your reopening criteria are genuinely met.