The Myth of the Right Choice

I’ve noticed something — both in my own life and in the therapy room: we agonise over decisions because somewhere deep down, we’ve bought into the idea that there’s a right one.

Should I stay or should I go? Should I take the job or keep the security of what I know? Should I start the family, buy the house, make the move? We don’t just weigh the options — we torment ourselves with the belief that one path will lead us to happiness and the other will destroy us.

But what if that’s not true?

Carl Jung spoke about the tension of opposites — the way the psyche holds us between competing pulls, each with its own truth, its own lesson. From that perspective, there isn’t always one perfect choice. There are just choices, each shaping us differently.

When we cling to the myth of the right choice, anxiety skyrockets. Every option feels high-stakes. We delay, we spiral, we outsource our decisions to others, or we freeze entirely. Underneath it all is often fear: fear of regret, fear of pain, fear of losing the life we imagine exists if only we choose correctly.

But maybe the task isn’t to find the flawless decision. Maybe the task is to choose, knowing that either way, there will be joy and there will be loss. That’s life. And maybe what matters more is how we meet ourselves in the aftermath of the choice, not whether we managed to avoid discomfort by picking the “right” one.

In therapy, I often see that the hardest part isn’t the decision itself — it’s forgiving ourselves for not being able to see the future. We want certainty where none exists. And that’s the heart of it: making peace with uncertainty is the real work.

So perhaps the next time you’re paralysed by choice, the question isn’t “what’s the right path?” but “what do I want to learn, to honour, or to live into next?” Both roads will shape you. Both will cost something. And both can still lead you home to yourself.