I stood in the brightly lit supermarket aisle, staring at rows of cereal boxes stacked neatly from floor to ceiling. There are at least fifty options, each promising something unique: whole grain goodness, sugar-free indulgence, extra crunch, or exotic flavours. What should have been a two-minute decision had stretched into ten. My basket hung limply at my side as I scanned labels, weighed pros and cons, and tried to silence the nagging voice in my head: Just pick one! But the voice was drowned out by another, whispering that I might pick the wrong one or miss out on a better option.
This wasn’t an isolated moment. Just last week, I spent hours scrolling through Netflix, only to end up watching nothing at all. The same paralysis seeps into weightier and life-altering decisions, like job offers, vacation plans, and even choosing whom to date. It feels more challenging to choose these days, as the stakes seem much higher amidst seemingly multiple options. And I’ve realised something over the years: abundance is often an illusion. Until you’re sure you’ve made the most of your options, the abundance feels like a mirage, a cruel trick that leaves you wondering if you’ve walked away with the worst choice of all.
We all recognise this dilemma. In a world overflowing with options, we’ve been conditioned to believe that more choices equal better outcomes. But does it? Researchers call this the paradox of choice. The more options we have, the harder it becomes to choose, the less satisfied we are with our decisions.
At its core, this is cognitive overload. Our brains are wired to handle a handful of options, but decision-making becomes exhausting when the list grows too long. We overthink, second-guess, and agonise, fearing missing out on the elusive “best” option. It is why it took me months to choose a new laptop. I spent countless hours poring over specs, reading reviews, and comparing features. The sheer number of choices made me fear I’d overlook the “perfect” one.
But the cereal aisle isn’t where the most challenging decisions lie. A few years ago, I faced three fantastic job offers. Each promised stability, a good salary, and exciting prospects. Coming off a horrific startup experience, I had been deliberate about what I applied for, prioritising security and stability. But when the offers arrived, I froze. I meticulously listed pros and cons, filled pages of my journal with “what ifs,” and spent days in agonising indecision. Psychologists describe this as analysis paralysis, the inability to decide because of overanalysing every detail. The more I thought about it, the more I feared making the wrong choice. What if I picked the wrong job? What if I realised too late that another option had been better?
While I pride myself on being analytical, my struggle wasn’t with decision-making but with the fear of the unknown behind the outcomes of the wrong decision. Decisions are inherently forward-looking, and no amount of historical data can fully predict the future. I’ve realised that I handle the consequences of fate, which was out of my control, better than the regret of knowing I could have done something differently. As a faith-based person, I turn to prayer when analysis reaches its limits. I ask for clarity and trust that doors not meant for me will close naturally. This approach helps me let go of regret, as I find the outcomes of fate far easier to accept when I know I’ve put in my best effort, even if things don’t go as planned. This a strategy that has worked brilliantly, freeing me from the endless cycle of what-ifs. I can walk away with my head held high, unburdened by second-guessing self-doubt and regrets.
This is why I call it “the curse of multiple choices”. The curse isn’t the abundance itself but how we approach it. In a world of options, we can’t evaluate every possibility or predict every outcome. Instead, we must focus on what truly matters, set boundaries, and trust our instincts. Freedom doesn’t lie in unlimited choices but in learning to navigate them clearly and confidently. The art of decision-making or narrowing on multiple choices is less about getting it right perfectly and more about careful considerations and being at peace with whatever outcome. And sometimes, peace is as simple as picking the cereal that feels right in the moment.
In a recent podcast with Trevor Noah, Simon Sinek suggested a practical solution: group choices into pairs and eliminate one at a time. Choosing between two variables is far easier than facing a sea of options. This advice, I am eager to try. What about you? How do you navigate multiple choices? Have you found strategies that work? Share your thoughts. I’d love to hear them.
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