Choices, Decisions, and Mild Existential Dread

There’s a special kind of spiral that hits when people start asking, “So, what’s next for you?” Like oh, you mean after I finish my seasonal job I took after blowing up my life for some reason I still can’t fully explain? Great question. Let me just consult the detailed five-year plan I definitely don’t have at the moment.

Six months in Alaska is truly flying by quicker than expected and….

Here’s the thing: I’ve been ruminating. Hard. Like, anxiety-loop-at-3am hard. Consulting a tarot reader hard. I keep getting tangled between what I want to do and what I feel like I should do. Stability vs spontaneity. Rooting down vs running wild. A 401k vs a one-way ticket. The classic internal battle of an emotionally self-aware millennial with an okay credit score and unresolved commitment issues.

A year ago, I saw this video (because obviously, my spiritual advisors are sharing their work via instagram reels) where this woman said the difference between a choice and a decision is simple: you make a choice, and then in that choice, you decide if it’s right for you. And listen, I know it was filmed in a moving car with the front camera, but it actually changed my life.

This is for both big and small things. She used the example of coffee creamer: you choose to try a new coffee creamer and it’s not until you’re drinking the cup of coffee with the new creamer that you decide whether you like the creamer at all. But if not for experiencing the choice, you truly would never know. It can be the same for moving somewhere or taking a new job. 

I realized I’ve been approaching every single choice like it had to be the decision. The forever one. The right one. The “build a life on this” one. No pressure or anything!

But here I am, months into my Alaska chapter - wet, tired, occasionally bear-adjacent—and somehow the happiest I’ve been in years. And now that it’s halfway over, the “what’s next” question is creeping in like Juneau fog. (Relentless. Chilly. Blocking all visibility.)

Do I go where the fun is? Where the job is? Where my friends are? Where the wine is cheapest?

I don’t know. But I’m starting to think maybe it doesn’t matter as much as I think it does. 

…Maybe I just pick, and then decide.

But let me tell you… that mindset shift is easier said than done when your brain is a swirling vortex of possibility, self-doubt, and deeply unhelpful Instagram algorithms showing you both a girl buying her first home at 29 and another one who just sold everything to move to Portugal with a guy she met in a hostel. Like, okay?? Which version of me am I rooting for today??

Sometimes I wonder if I’m allergic to contentment. I’ll feel settled and then immediately start Googling flights. I’ll daydream about having chickens and goats in a backyard I don’t have, then romanticize living out of my car because… freedom. It’s dizzying. I keep flipping between craving the stability of “home” and the thrill of not knowing where I’ll land next.

And if I’m being honest? Sometimes it’s not even about the next place or job or lifestyle. It’s the deeper stuff… am I building something? Am I falling behind? Am I making the “right” kind of life? Do I even believe in that?

(And also, do I need to start freezing my eggs??? That’s a separate post but also NOT REALLY.)

It’s hard not to compare when everyone around you seems to be settling into something; marriages, mortgages, master’s degrees. I’m so happy for them (really, I am!), but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look around and go… did I miss something? Was there a sign-up sheet?

But then I think about how full my life has been, how many versions of myself I’ve gotten to meet, how many times I’ve proved to myself I can land on my feet; even when I’ve had no clue what I was doing. And I remember that feeling I had when I got here to Alaska: scared, unsure, wildly out of my comfort zone… and excited. So excited.

That feeling? That’s what I want to chase. Not the illusion of “rightness.” Just that buzzing, expansive, holy-shit-I’m-doing-it feeling that reminds me I’m alive and capable and choosing my life, even when it’s messy.

So yeah, maybe I don’t know what’s next. Maybe I never really will.

But I’m learning that’s okay.

I’ll choose something.

Then I’ll decide.

And honestly? That’s a pretty big shift for me.

I grew up a textbook people pleaser. Gold star chaser. Sensitive kiddo with a sixth sense for what everyone else needed and a blurry idea of what I even liked. I learned early that the easiest way to feel safe or accepted was to read the room and mold myself to it. Want something from me? No problem. I’ll make myself want it too.

I spent most of my twenties unlearning that. Peeling off layers that weren’t mine. Trying on new ones. Tossing them. Putting them back on because someone said they looked good. Tossing them again. 

Now, in my thirties, it feels like I’m finally asking: Okay… but what do I want?

And wow, that question is way harder than it should be.

Because even now, even here, in this beautiful weird life I’ve built—my brain still wants to filter every decision through a hypothetical committee. Would people understand this? Approve of it? Expect it? And if not, does that mean it’s wrong?

(And no, brain, we are not inviting a jury of ex-boyfriends, former coworkers, and strangers to weigh in. Please stop.)

So maybe the work now isn’t about chasing the “right” choice. Maybe it’s about making space for my own voice in the noise. And trusting that even if I get it “wrong,” I’ll figure it out. I always have.

No map, just vibes.

No clear answer, just curiosity.

And maybe that’s enough…. for now. 

So my update.. Is that I don’t really have an update, but when I know… you’ll know. 

In the meantime I’m going to keep making sure helicopters take off, attempting (and failing) at staying dry, exploring Juneau, and writing random, dumb, and vulnerable thoughts you never asked for.

xo