on option abundance
paradox of choice & decision fatigue
we were never meant to have this many options—jobs, cities, hobbies, restaurants, aesthetics, even relationships—all instantly available, all vying for our attention. and with that much choice, something unexpected happens: it becomes harder, not easier, to feel certain. every decision feels high-stakes. every “yes” carries the weight of a hundred “what ifs.”
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the paradox of choice //
barry schwartz calls it the paradox of choice—the idea that having too many options doesn’t actually make us happier. in fact, it makes us more anxious, more indecisive, and more likely to regret the choices we do make.
i’ve felt it in the most ordinary moments—scrolling through restaurant options, trying to pick a spot for dinner, and somehow ending up hungrier and more indecisive than when i started. or juggling ten tabs while planning a weekend trip, convinced that choosing one means missing out on something better. these aren’t major life decisions, but they still carry weight. when everything is an option, even small choices can feel like tests. the pressure to make the “right” call turns simple decisions into low-stakes performance anxiety.
and it runs deeper. we spend hours researching hotels or travel routes trying to craft the “perfect” plan, only to feel paralyzed by the possibilities. we hesitate to fully invest in connections because of the nagging sense that something more aligned might be just around the corner.
it’s the pressure to choose optimally. and when “best” becomes the standard, “good enough” rarely feels like it counts.
freedom vs. fulfillment //
we assume freedom will lead to happiness. if i can live anywhere, work anywhere, love anyone—i must feel free, right? but sometimes freedom without direction just feels like drifting. having options often delays clarity.
i’ve felt this tension most when trying to decide on post-grad plans. there’s a certain anxiety in having every city, every path, every lifestyle technically available. it becomes harder to tune into what you actually want, versus what simply looks appealing. we hesitate to close doors because we’ve internalized the idea that possibility is more valuable than presence. but unlimited choice can be paralyzing. structure, boundaries, and decisions—those are the things that often make life feel more meaningful.
fomo and decision paralysis //
every time i open social media, i see three completely different versions of how life could look. one person’s building a company. another’s in grad school. someone else is backpacking through machu picchu. it’s not that i want all of them. it’s that seeing them all makes it harder to feel confident in the version i’ve chosen.
i’ve caught myself second-guessing perfectly good decisions just because another path looks more exciting in someone else’s highlight reel. a job, a vacation, even a lazy weekend…everything feels like it’s up for comparison. we’re constantly exposed to the roads not taken, and that makes it harder to live fully in the one we’re on. even small wins feel smaller when you’re comparing them to someone else’s curated milestones.
commitment aversion in modern life //
our grandparents probably picked a career and stayed in it. they married someone who lived nearby. they found hobbies based on what was around them, not what the internet could suggest. there was a kind of built-in limitation to life that, for better or worse, forced you to choose…and then commit.
today, we live in the opposite world. we’re taught to keep our options open, optimize every decision, and never settle. there’s always something better, somewhere. the better job. the better city. the better partner. we weigh our decisions constantly, not just based on what’s in front of us, but on what could be. even when something feels good, it’s hard not to wonder what else is out there.
this shows up in relationships too—meeting someone great, spending time with them, but never really building anything deeper because there's always more people to meet. the fear of missing out on new opportunities keeps us from deepening the ones we already have.
sometimes i think we confuse freedom with flexibility. we assume that not committing means we’re being smart or cautious. but at a certain point, it turns into avoidance. we keep things casual, say “maybe” instead of “yes,” wait for better timing, better signs, better feelings. we don’t want to make the wrong choice, so we make none at all.
optimization culture //
even the smallest choices start to feel high-stakes. where to eat dinner turns into an hour-long scroll, flipping between maps, menus, and reviews. it becomes about always picking right. and by the time you finally decide, the spontaneity is gone.
a to-do list isn’t just a tool — it’s also something we optimize. our calendar becomes color-coded and stacked. our mornings need to be productive, our evenings restorative. there’s pressure to get everything just right, always trying to squeeze out just a little more efficiency.
but trying to maximize everything all the time is…a lot. and sometimes the cost of optimization is that we lose the actual experience of being present in the work or just letting things be a little messy.
identity and abundance //
sometimes i wonder if all this choice has made it harder to know who we are. it’s easy to try on different styles, switch jobs, and reinvent ourselves online. and while that kind of flexibility can be freeing, it can also be disorienting.
i’ve caught myself leaning into things that felt aspirational more than authentic. not because i genuinely liked them, but because they projected a version of me i wanted others to see. it’s easy to adopt someone else’s aesthetic or ambition when it looks good in a grid. the more choices we have, the easier it is to get swept up in appearances.
i think that’s part of why trend cycles feel so chaotic now. we’re constantly adapting, remixing, reinventing. it’s fun until it becomes exhausting. with so many possible identities available, it becomes harder to know which ones truly resonate. abundance creates noise, and in that noise, it’s easy to lose the thread of who we really are.
choosing anyway // a reflection
maybe the answer isn’t having fewer choices, but learning to choose something that’s good enough and giving it a real chance—solely to commit to the process of shaping it into something more.
we’re often told we can pivot at any moment, and sometimes we should. but there’s also something powerful in staying. in picking a job, a person, a place, and investing in it. because choosing to give it the time and care to grow outweighs checking every box.
fulfillment rarely shows up right away. it takes showing up repeatedly, especially once the novelty fades. sometimes the best things are the ones we choose to nurture.
- manvi :)