the burden of choice

ya' need some fuckin' rules

The best and worst thing about me is that I want to experience it all. Deep within me, at my core, is an ache to experience as many things as a human possibly could. To be well acquainted with what it means to be human.

It’s an ache I carry with me at all times—the ache of knowing I’ll only get to scratch the surface in my lifetime (just the other week I had an existential crisis because I’ll never get to know what going through a black hole is like).

But with the desire comes confusion. There are simply too many options for how I could spend my time— a podcaster, a YouTuber, a writer, a coach. Calisthenics, lifting, running, snowboarding, freediving, soft acrobatics, acro yoga, skateboarding, mountaineering. Should I start an online platform? Teach breathwork? Sell programs? Open a gym? Open an all-day health-food cafe? But wouldn’t it be so cool to travel the world and document how other cultures live, approach wellness, and contentment in ways that run counter the Western approach (the ultimate dream, tbh)? Leave everything behind for a quiet life running a quaint hotel in the Alps? Or maybe fuck off to a remote Greek island and chuck my iPhone into the sea. Do I have a bigger purpose? Am I missing it? Am I overthinking (yes)?

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The mind reels with possibilities.

And not just with the big, existential questions, but with all of the little, everyday decisions. What to wear, what to eat, what supplements to take, what movies to watch, what music to listen to, what apps to download…

How many times have you scrolled Netlix for so long that you just turned it off, having not watched anything, because now it’s too late to start something? Probably more than you’re willing to admit.

The average supermarket has 50,000 items. In my early 20’s I refused to go to the Whole Foods that was literally across the street because all I had ever heard about it was how expensive it was. Then one day, I broke the seal and never made the 15-minute drive to Safeway again—I was willing to pay a premium for a premium shopping experience. With nearly half the SKUs of the average grocery store chain, I was keenly aware of the effect that fewer options (and better lighting) had on my nervous system.

Do you want a pair of jeans? Great. A classic staple of any wardrobe. Do you want high-rise? Mid-rise? (God forbid) low-rise? 100% cotton? A little bit of stretch? Distressed? Do you want straight, skinny, wide leg, cropped, stovepipe, relaxed, flare, balloon, boyfriend, bootcut, or barrel? What about the wash? Light, medium, dark, black, or white? Medium, you say? Great—how much indigo?

That’s 660 possible versions of one thing.

Shopping is long past an enjoyable experience… now it’s just exhausting.

There are simply too many options—It feels insurmountable.

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The human brain is constantly bombarded with information—about 11 million bits per second. Only 200 years ago, it was in the range of 10,000-100,000 bits per second. Yet, we are only capable of processing 50-120 bits of information per second. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to filter anything (I don’t know your life), but if you bombard a filter, it stops working (in the case of the human brain, that looks like fatigue, overstimulation, trouble focusing anxiety, lack of motivation, poor sleep, etc.).

This is the hallmark of Western society—maximizing freedom = maximizing choice. All of this is meant to accommodate every type of person a person could possibly want to be. Infinite choices for infinite possibilities. Truly, a great thing.

I think the benefits are obvious, and it seems a silly thing to complain about—abundance feels like a stupid problem to have. I know that these choices were hard fought for. The fact that I’m drowning in options for how I want to live my life is extremely privileged. I don’t live in a time or place where my only option as a woman is to care for a home and tend to children, with no say in how my life unfolds. I don’t live in a place in the world where upward mobility is nearly impossible.

But there is a problem. Too much freedom and lack of freedom are two sides of the same coin. We’re past the tipping point of choice and options being helpful. Now, it just feels like another prison.

I’m prone to romanticizing the past and simpler ways of living for this very reason. Times and places where these choices don’t exist. You simply spend your time subsisting—building and maintaining shelter, growing, hunting, and gathering food, making clothes, cooking, etc. (except in my fantasy, there’s modern medicine, plumbing, and clean water).

Even not so long ago, the formula for life was simple: get married, buy a house, have kids, work work work, raise kids, retire. The only remotely existential choices were who to marry whether or not to go to school/where to work (and even in this there wasn’t a ton of choice). It was, at the very least, a concrete path to aspire to—a direction to steer the ship. Now we throw should I get married? should I have kids? where should I live? and other big, existential questions into the mix, all with a subset of micro questions tucked within each of them.

Now, so many of us are just stuck sitting in the harbor, never even lifting anchor in the first place. Yes, those earlier times were fraught with unhappiness, but we’ve done nothing but get more unhappy since then.

This is the paradox of choice.

The down-slope of the bell curve. where “more” no longer equates to “better”.

Psychologist Barry Schwartz wrote all about it in his book called The Paradox of Choice (wouldn’t ya know). In it, he outlines four key pillars to why an over-abundance of choices is so problematic:

1. Regret and Anticipated Regret – The more choices we have, the more likely we are to regret the decision or spend more time worrying about making the "wrong" one. The fear of missing out on a better option creates anxiety and even paralysis.

2. Opportunity Cost – When choosing one option, people are aware of what they are giving up. More choices make it harder to feel satisfied because the mind keeps comparing alternatives (the projection of which is entirely fabricated)

3. Escalation of Expectations – With so many choices, people expect to find the perfect option. It MUST exist. When reality doesn’t match expectations, disappointment follows, even if the choice was objectively good.

4. Self-Blame – If we make a choice and it is, in fact, not perfect, we blame ourselves instead of external factors. We’re just bad pickers. We didn’t weigh the options enough. More choices mean greater personal responsibility, amplifying feelings of failure.

Underpinning all of this is paralysis. Going to bed after hours of scrolling Netflix and coming up empty-handed because— what if I choose something but there was something I would’ve liked even more? Spending (wasting) hours researching a minor purchase because you want to get the exact right thing, hemming and hawing until the decision is made for you—sold out. Or avoiding making career moves because there are so many possibilities and you don’t want to make the wrong moves.

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I think this is why things like human design and minimalism are so popular—they narrow the scope and add constraints, relieving the burden of choice.

The choices we are exposed to are only going to grow. If we constantly let influencers and marketers tell us what we should be doing, buying, and consuming, we will constantly be overwhelmed and unsatisfied.

That’s why ya need some fucking rules.

Something that automatically throws out 90% of the options.

And if you want rules that will really work for you, you have to know who you are at your core.

When you wake up every day, you have to decide what kind of person you want to be.

You have to know what you value and what you stand for, otherwise, the world will decide for you—and that’s a dangerous game to play.

I’m not saying I have everything figured out, but here are some of the rules I impose on myself:

minimalism

Yes, I’m one of those people we all love to hate who practices minimalism, but hear me out: To me, it’s not about owning nothing, it’s about carefully considering the things I bring into my home. What’s its function? How long is it going to last? Does it align with my values? Do I want it because it’s going to add value or do I want it because I want to be seen having it (so hard for me to tease out, tbh)? This keeps me from making wasteful impulse purchases and constantly feeling let down that that thing that influencer had didn’t fix my life.

sustainability and humanitarian impact

One of the values that I consider before purchasing something is its impact. I opt for natural materials and make sure the company uses sound labor practices (this mostly applies to clothes and furniture), opting for second-hand whenever possible. This narrows down the pool of options considerably.

the uniform

I use the 3-word method for picking clothes, which gives me a capsule wardrobe of things I really love to wear. That way, I don’t get caught up in loving something on someone and buying it out of aspiration. If it doesn’t fit within my 3 words, it doesn’t belong in my closet.

low tox

When it comes to household and beauty products, I opt for natural, organic, and low-tox products. Again, narrowing the pool of options and keeping myself consistent with my values.

no binging

One episode of a show per night, that’s it. And if you don’t have something we’re actively trying to watch, we just hang out and play a game. We don’t binge, scroll or pick something random to turn on.

eat simply

One of my top values is health, and I’ve found that eating super simply is the best way to achieve that. My grocery trips are mostly meat, dairy, and produce (I do one monthly order of pantry staples for Thrive Market). My husband and I share a Google doc where we plan our meals for the week and make a grocery list based on those meals. I eat the same thing every day for breakfast and lunch. We’re not spending time in the grocery store aisles confronted by choices, and Doordash isn’t an option on the table (literally).

authentic code + human design

I’m a journaler. It’s probably the single most important thing for figuring out what my values even are in the first place. It’s led me to figure out my “authentic code”—my top values that I refer to when making decisions. If it doesn’t align with my authentic code, then it’s a no. I’ve found Human Design to also be very helpful for this, especially for making career decisions.

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Yes, the world is overflowing with options, often to our detriment. But with a well-calibrated compass, navigating them and being content with your decisions is possible. Beyond that, it can lead to a fulfilling, magnetic, life full of contentment. You can use the abundance of choices in your favor to end up with a life that is fully aligned—one that feels like yours.