If You're At A Crossroads
A reflection on decision loops, the illusion of perfect choices, and what it really means to trust your gut at the crossroads.
A few weeks ago, I found myself needing to make a big decision around an opportunity that had presented itself.
I spent about two weeks in a state of anxiety over the decision, awake at night, lying in bed with my eyes open as I thought through possible deliberations, looped back in forth in my head, contemplating pros and cons, and ultimately, getting nowhere. I asked close friends and family for advice, some of them told me yes, to do it is a no-brainer, and others whose opinions I trust just as much, told me no, it doesn’t feel right for me knowing where I am and what I want in life.
Naturally, this all left me more confused, and in hindsight, the process of making the decision is something I could have approached in a way less chaotic and stressful way.
So I’m considering this essay as a post-mortem reflection on that decision-making period, and proposing a framework that I can hopefully apply myself in future crossroad scenarios.
It’s never as deep as what you think it is
Even though I knew this intellectually, I wish this is something I could have better reinforced for my body and brain, which kept itself awake at night, literally tossing and turning and losing sleep over a decision that ultimately wasn’t worth not sleeping for, so I wish I’d zoomed out just a little bit sooner.
One perspective I came across later, and one I’ll definitely be keeping in my back pocket, is the idea that some decisions are one-door decisions, and others are two-door ones.
A one-door decision is final. You step through, and the door locks behind you. There’s no return, no reversal, no undo button. It’s the kind of thing that changes the architecture of your life in some permanent way, like having a child, selling your country, or signing a long term contract you can’t easily get out of. These are rare, and usually obvious.
Most decisions, though, are two-door ones. You can try something, and if it turns out not to be right, you can step back, adjust course, and do something else, I suppose. There might be friction or discomfort, but you’re not trapped, because the door doesn’t lock behind you.
What’s tricky is that in the moment, every big-feeling decision can masquerade as a one-door kind of thing. Especially when emotions are heightened and the stakes feel personal, we start to think in absolutes. If I do this, I’m committing forever; If I say yes, there’s no turning back; If I say no, I’ll never get this chance again.
But that’s almost never true (!!!)
Had I looked at the choice in front of me with this lens, really held it up and asked, “is this a locked door or a revolving one?”, I think I would have moved more lightly.
I might still have gone back and forth for a bit, that’s human, but maybe with less panic and more perspective. Because the truth is, most of life’s doors open in both directions, we just forget that when we’re standing on the threshold.
Analysis Paralysis vs. Intuition
This is a big one for me. In my multi-week deliberation process, I realized that I was so deep into a state of analysis that I’d lost my perspective altogether. It felt like I was wandering through a dense forest of decision parameters, pros and cons, competing priorities and what-if questions, so much so that I lost sight of the one question that actually mattered: Do I want this?
It’s strange how easily logic can start to feel like progress. When you're stuck, drawing up decision trees and hypothetical timelines feels productive. It gives you the illusion that you’re moving toward clarity, when in reality, you’re just circling the same few trees over and over again. There’s a kind of comfort in staying in that loop, because it delays the discomfort of actually choosing.
But I’ve come to learn that there’s no perfect decision in life. That’s the myth that keeps the loop spinning; this idea that if you just think hard enough, or get the right piece of advice, or uncover one more variable you haven’t yet considered, you’ll find a version of the future where everything lines up, risk disappears, and certainty arrives.
It doesn’t. Certainty never arrives. That version doesn’t exist. You just have to pick a door and walk through.
A decision is a feeling, not a thought
And here’s the thing I keep coming back to: often, your body knows before your brain does. That subtle unease you can’t quite name, or that low-key hum of excitement you feel even when something scares you, that’s data too. Maybe even the most important kind. But it’s hard to access when you’re stuck in analysis mode because your gut voice gets drowned out by the mental noise.
So if I could go back, I’d spend less time trying to think my way to the right answer, and more time tuning into how each option actually felt in my body. Not necessarily the fear, or the pressure, or the projection of other people’s expectations, just a quiet check-in with myself: does this path feel expansive or contracted? Heavy or light? Am I moving toward something, or away?
That’s not to say logic isn’t useful, but it should be in service of clarity, not confusion. When it starts replacing your own knowing, that’s when it’s time to step back, get quiet, and ask: what if I already know?
If you’re at a crossroads just…cross the road
Okay that was corny, but the point is that in the end, being at a crossroads is rarely about finding the right answer. It’s about learning to listen, to trust, and to move even without certainty.
Most of the decisions that keep us up at night aren’t permanent, and most doors aren’t locked. The myth of permanence is just that, a myth. Life is more forgiving than we think, and more flexible than it seems in the thick of it. So if you’re standing at a crossroads right now, try not to freeze. Get quiet, check in with yourself, and remember: clarity often comes after the choice, not before it.
One of my favourite reminders, from Anne Lamott, is this: “Hope begins in the dark… if you wait until you know for sure, you may never take the step at all.”
Sometimes, the only way out of the loop is forward.
Peace out ✌️
Wow, this put words to something I’ve felt but never quite named. It’s so true how overthinking can feel like progress when it’s really just fear looping in disguise. That line “Do I want this?” — hits hard. Sometimes clarity comes not from more thinking, but from honest wanting. Thank you for this