When someone comes to me with a problem, everything seems so clear-cut and simple. "If I were you, I would do such and such." Having written those words now in the journal, they look every bit as arrogant as I knew they would. Who am I to give advice to others, or to believe I have even a rudimentary understanding of their situations? Particularly when my own troubles plunge me into chaos.
But oddly enough, this seems to have a way of being spun into something of benefit for me. When I'm floundering about a decision of my own, things seem much clearer if I picture myself in an imaginary conversation with a friend who wants help with that problem. By divorcing myself from the swirl of emotions, fears, and expectations, I can analyze the situation with at least some degree of objectivity. Wise things I've been told and words I've read now flow freely to the forefront, whereas before they were strained and suppressed. Sometimes I succeed at my aim and sometimes I fail miserably, but at least I feel like my mind is participating in the decision.