Op-ed: Borka Schuster
There's a strange pattern in my life that I only noticed in hindsight. When I look back at the decisions I'm most grateful for today, almost every single one of them has something in common: someone tried to talk me out of it.
Not out of spite. Just the opposite. Most of them were worried about me. They wanted me to be safe. They were speaking from their own experience, or they simply feared I'd end up disappointed.
And yet, if I had listened to them back then, I'd be a completely different person today — and I'd be in a completely different place in my life.
When I decided to leave my stable, predictable job, plenty of people told me I was being irresponsible.
After all, I had a steady paycheck, a reliable routine, the kind of position many people would love to have. And I wanted to give all of that up to become a freelancer.
The only argument I really had was that I missed feeling free. For most people, that probably wouldn't have been enough — for me, it was. Even though, deep down, I understood that everyone else's worry was completely justified.
What if you don't get enough work? What if you can't make a living from it? What if you have to crawl back to an office job?
These were fair questions. I asked myself every single one of them.
Still, I felt that the uncertainty was less frightening than the thought of never giving a real chance to the life I actually wanted.
Looking back, I don't regret that decision for a single second
I live so much more happily now. I feel far more balanced. I love my work, I love the freedom it gives me, and opportunities have found me over the past few years that never would have if I'd stayed at that desk.
The same is true of my relationship.
More than once, I was told that we were too different. That it wouldn't work in the long run, that it would take too much effort. And yes, there was effort.
But somehow I never felt that this alone made it wrong.
We simply kept getting to know each other better. We learned how to argue, how to apologize, how to adapt — and somehow, with every passing year, we grew closer. I don't think every relationship is worth the kind of work we had to put in, but I know without a doubt that our love was worth it. And no one could have known that, because no one felt what we felt. Only the two of us did.
If I'd listened to everyone else, this life wouldn't be mine
Of course, I didn't walk away from all this believing you should never listen to anyone's opinion. Far from it.
Very often, it's other people who spot the blind spots we can't see in ourselves. A good friend, a parent, even a mentor can help enormously — especially when they ask the kind of questions we'd never think to ask on our own.
But there's a point where the decision can no longer be outsourced. Because in the end, they won't be the ones living our lives. We will.
And no matter how much they love us, no one knows exactly what makes us feel truly alive.
No one can tell us which job will bring us joy, which relationship is worth fighting for, or which dream is worth the uncertainty it demands.
These are things we have to feel out for ourselves. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. And yes, sometimes a decision turns out to be the wrong one. A business might not take off. A relationship might end. A big plan might come to nothing. But even in those moments, there's something reassuring about it: they are the results of our own choices.
And even if the road leads to failure, at least it was our own road. And that is no small thing.
Why do the best decisions often feel the scariest?
Because they usually mean stepping into uncertainty and giving up something safe. As the article shows, that fear can actually be a sign you're finally choosing the life you really want.
Should I ever listen to people who doubt my choices?
Yes — outside voices can reveal blind spots we can't see ourselves, especially when a trusted friend or mentor asks the right questions. But the final decision still has to be yours, because you're the one who has to live with it.
What if my brave decision turns out to be a mistake?
Even a decision that doesn't work out has value, because it was genuinely yours. As the author puts it, there's something reassuring about failing on your own terms rather than living a life shaped by everyone else's fears.
