The Battle After the Decision

By Yaacov Weiss, LCSW

He walked into my office with a familiar look—tense shoulders, furrowed brow, and that blend of frustration and exhaustion I’d come to recognize. "I can’t stop thinking about the car I recently bought,” he said.

Two weeks earlier, he had purchased a used Toyota Camry after a long and stressful search. The car was in decent condition, fairly priced, and had been in one minor accident. On paper, it was a reasonable decision. Still, there’s always some risk when buying a car with a blemished history—and ever since signing the papers, Elliot had been plagued by doubt and questions kept recycling in his mind.

“What if I could’ve found a better deal? ”What if the ‘minor’ accident wasn’t so minor? ”What if something’s wrong with it that I missed? ”Should I have waited longer, asked more people for advice, gotten it inspected again?”

These questions weren’t new. It wasn’t the first major decision that sent Elliot into a spiral. This was unfortunately a common pattern with him. “It’s like my brain is punishing me,” he said. “And I just want it to stop.”

So I asked what we often ask in our sessions: What purpose might this serve? We operate under the belief that cognitive dysfunction usually serves a function. Rumination doesn’t just happen for nothing—it’s often trying to help, even if misinformed. Most likely, it’s trying to help my client by protecting something, defending something, or avoiding something.

After a moment, Elliot offered a few possibilities. "Maybe it’s to help me make better decisions in the future,” he said. “Or maybe… it’s to make sure I don’t feel stupid. Or maybe it’s to make sure I actually do my due diligence next time—so I don’t overlook something important, like an accident, just because I like how the car looks and I’m eager to be done already.”

These were entry points.

We explored the thoughts that came up when he believed he had made a mistake. Three automatic beliefs stood out:

• “I make stupid decisions.”

• “I make rash decisions.”

• “I’m too lazy to do things right.”

These thoughts led to him labeling himself:

• I am stupid.

• I am rash.

• I am lazy.

  
  

These hit some very raw nerves. He admitted he didn’t ask friends for input, didn’t consult experts, didn’t compare enough options—and ignored the persistent internal voice telling him, “Don’t buy a car that’s been in an accident.” He rarely reached out. Deep down, he recognized that his discomfort with communication played a major role.

We’ve spoken about this before—how his social anxiety often holds him back from asking questions or seeking feedback, even when he knows it would help. I reminded him that early in therapy, I had offered to help him build those communication skills. "I know,” he said quietly. “I guess I don’t want to face it.”

So I asked the obvious question: Why is he still looping over a decision that’s already in the past? Instead of replaying it, maybe it’s time to accept it—and use what he’s learned to move forward. Namely: that he needs to invest in overcoming social anxiety.

He paused. “Maybe part of me just wants to feel okay as I am. Like I don’t need to fix anything. And maybe that same part is… scared. It doesn’t want to admit I have these weaknesses—because then I’d feel like a loser and have to do something difficult about them.” I thanked him for his honesty and vulnerability. To admit these, takes enormous strength.

And so, the rumination continues. Not because the car was necessarily a bad buy—it’s been running beautifully. But because there’s an internal conflict that hasn’t been sorted out. One part of him wants to keep things stable—to preserve emotional safety and self-acceptance. Another part wants him to grow, succeed, and do things right.

Using language borrowed from Internal Family Systems (IFS), we named these parts:

• The Manager, who wants to maintain equilibrium and avoid shame and embarrassment

• The Protector, who pushes him toward competence and growth

Both parts are trying to help—but they pull in opposite directions, leaving Elliot stuck in the middle.

This session brought clarity. He took the first step of parsing things out and gaining an understanding of what stands beneath the presenting issues.

Details may have been changed to protect privacy.