I hated the powerlessness of childhood. My parents tried to determine what I ate and what I wore and when I slept, peed, or felt angry. At least one of them answered most of my why questions with that button-pushing unsatisfactory declaration: “Because I told you so.”

When I complained, the other one assured me that childhood was going to be the good time in my life, the carefree years before I had to work hard and pay bills.

They couldn’t have been more wrong. “Because I told you so,” is despotic. Passive/aggressive even. Hard work is often its own reward; it generates a solid feeling of ability and accomplishment. Paying the bills isn’t nearly as obnoxious as being sent to bed before you’re tired.

I have loved the power of maturity. I’ve spent most of my adulthood in charge of what’s around me: myself, kids, pets, home, business. I have thrived. And yet …

I’ve learned how taxing decisions are. I try to limit mine. I don’t drive, seldom shop, opt out of coupons.

I’ve learned that making a choice is a creative opportunity. No matter how mundane, it’s an occasion to bring integrity to the subject, to select with sense, clarity, balance and an avoidance of chaos. I try to face my decisions head on and walk through the process with interest.

I’ve learned that the best vacation for me is one where I don’t have to make decisions. I like cruises and small tours and some all-inclusive arrangements. I’m on a break, and I don’t want to pick a restaurant. Heck, when I’m on a decision break kind of vacation, I don’t even care if inconvenience occurs. I can roll with it all. It’s not my problem. I’m not in charge.