The price of elsewhere

Oftentimes, in conversations with friends, we find ourselves returning to the same familiar struggle: the paralysis that comes with making a decision. We stand between two possibilities - sometimes more - each carrying its own promises, risks, and vision of what the future might look like if we choose that path.

Before entering into this article, I would like to acknowledge that having multiple options from which to choose is, in itself, a privilege. For many people around the world, circumstances, social constraints, or economic realities limit their ability to make choices for themselves. It is important to recognise that the challenge of choosing between several possibilities is one that not every has the freedom to experience.

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When it comes to making decisions, there's often a pattern I see: we make pros and cons lists, carefully weighing outcomes. We research, rationalise, and replay scenarios in our heads. We seek advice from a friend, a partner, or someone whose emotional distance may make their perspective feel more objective and grounded.

And then, eventually, a decision is made.

With it comes a small sense of relief. A comfort of knowing the choice itself is no longer unresolved.

But, that relief rarely lasts.

Once we step onto the path we’ve chosen, I have observed that our attention begins to drift toward the one we didn’t take. We wonder how it might be going. We imagine what could have happened. We picture alternative versions of ourselves living parallel lives that seem smoother, happier, or more aligned. In areas like:

• When we have a full-time job, we wonder what it would be like to work for ourselves. When we do, we miss the stability of a paycheck.
  

• When we live in an urban city, we dream of space, nature and quiet. When we live outside it, we miss the energy and movement.
  

• When we’re single, we imagine the comfort of partnership. When we’re in a relationship, we miss our independence.
  

• When we’re climbing the ladder, we long for balance. When things slow down, we worry we’re falling behind.

Do any of these thoughts feel familiar?

In 2022, the Norwegian film The Worst Person in the World was released with global success, exploring themes of human psychology, indecision, and opportunity costs. is a deeply reflective work on uncertainty and desire, and I would highly recommend it to anyone interested in how modern relationships and personal direction intersect.

The irony is that we often become more generous with the unchosen option than we ever were while deciding.

Meanwhile, the path we are on - the one that we selected - comes under harsher scrutiny. We notice its limitations. We question its pace. We compare how it feels to how we thought it would feel.

Doubt creeps in, and it's not because the choice is wrong, but because we remain mentally divided, pulling us out of the present. We move forward with one eye constantly looking sideways.

It's important to choose fully.

There is strength in staying on our track. In resisting the urge to constantly compare. In recognising that every decision contains both gain and loss, and that no single path grants access to all possible outcomes.

To stop asking “What if?” and begin asking “What is?”

To conclude this short piece, I remember back in high school days, we studied this Robert Frost poem for year 9 English with our teacher Mr. Mesimeris, and I feel that this rings true, more today than ever.

The road not taken

By Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

The grass is greener wherever you decide to water it.