How to Decide When Both Sides Make Sense
Indecision can feel safe. It can feel rational. It can feel like careful calculation. But what if indecision is just a subtle form of self-sabotage?
I’ve spent my life watching time slip by, all while thinking I’m being careful. I’m 34 now. I could have been married at 27. I could have had children. I could already be living the life I imagined. But every time I faced a choice, I weighed both sides too carefully, searched for certainty that doesn’t exist, and waited — waiting for the “perfect” moment that never comes.
And it’s not just romantic choices. It’s every arena of life. In debates with friends, I can stake out a position while leaving myself an escape hatch. I give strong opinions, then hedge them just enough to protect myself if I’m wrong. It’s clever. It’s subtle. And it’s a trap. Because the more you hedge, the less you truly learn.
The Gift and the Curse of Seeing Both Sides
There is a gift in seeing both sides. It makes you thoughtful, empathetic, able to anticipate outcomes. But there’s a cost: you never fully commit. You never fully engage. You never fully experience the consequence of being right — or wrong.
In love, this looks like scanning for what’s missing rather than cherishing what’s present. It looks like holding back when you could step forward. And eventually, it looks like lost time.
I’ve lost years in this way. I could have loved fully, married, raised children. And yet, here I am, staring at a woman who feels like a rare chance — a chance I could take, and yet still hesitate.
Fear Masquerading as Rationality
Fear doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it whispers. Sometimes it dresses itself as prudence or carefulness or seeking certainty. Sometimes it convinces you that not choosing is the safest choice.
For me, the fear has been layered: fear of failure, fear of repeating my father’s mistakes, fear of not being the man I want to be. I watched my father live a life I disagreed with and swore I would never follow it. But in my hesitancy, I realize I’ve been tracing a similar line, avoiding full commitment, and wondering if my caution is enough to keep me from becoming him.
And yet, indecision only prolongs the risk. It doesn’t eliminate it.
The Life We Want Requires Courage
The truth is simple: love, life, growth — they require action. They require risk. They require stepping into uncertainty, even when you don’t know the outcome. There is no perfect person, no perfect moment, no perfect marriage. People are human, with flaws and strengths, enough to build a life together if you choose to engage fully.
The life I imagine isn’t just about perfect circumstances — it’s about partnership: sharing routines, dreams, prayer, laughter, workouts, vacations, quiet evenings, and small rituals of care. It’s about building something that can’t be undone by indecision, because you’ve committed to showing up fully, every day.
Beyond Self: Choosing Who We Become
The bigger question isn’t “Which side is right?” It’s “Who do I become by choosing a side?”
Commitment isn’t just about choosing a partner. It’s about choosing yourself — the version of yourself who can act, who can grow, who can learn from mistakes instead of hiding from them. Identity isn’t fixed. Every day is an opportunity to redefine who you are and how you show up in the world.
Indecision buys comfort. It buys temporary safety. But it robs life of its fullness. Courage doesn’t eliminate risk, but it allows life to unfold in a way that waiting never will.
A Call to Courage
Choosing a side doesn’t mean perfection. It doesn’t mean certainty. It doesn’t mean never failing. It means stepping forward anyway. It means living honestly with your own values, fears, and desires.
We can all see both sides. We can all anticipate the “what-ifs.” But life, love, and growth belong to the ones willing to risk the plunge, to plant their flag, to ride the waves of uncertainty until they learn how to surf.
And maybe that is enough.