Lately I've been making big decisions — the kind that shape your life and your future for years to come. Serious questions, with no easy answers. And even though I'm lucky to have people who support me, I still had to sit with one hard truth: at the end of the day, the responsibility is mine alone.
As someone who lives with anxiety, even a minor problem can feel like a weight on my chest. So imagine what it's like to face buying an apartment or making a move that could reshape your entire career.
When everything is complicated at once
There are a few people whose opinions I actively seek out, and during this period I leaned on them more than ever. Especially because there were moments when the conditions changed roughly every two hours — legal, financial or other obstacles would throw me into despair, and then out of nowhere new possibilities would appear and rewrite everything I thought I knew.
I'm fortunate that I matter to a lot of people, and plenty of them checked in to ask how things were going. But so much could happen in half a day that I simply didn't have the energy, the bandwidth, or the nerves to explain to everyone where I stood or how tangled the whole situation really was. So most of them had no idea why, say, my apartment search had narrowed down to one specific neighborhood, town, or type of property.
"So where are you moving?"
And yet everyone had an opinion — and they shared it as if it were settled fact: that I was ruling out the suburbs, dismissing older buildings, refusing new builds, or avoiding properties with complicated ownership arrangements. Anyone who really knows me knows I research everything, almost obsessively. On top of that, I have personal preferences and boundaries that I really shouldn't have to justify for the millionth time.
If the roles were reversed, it would never occur to me to question someone else's choices. They know why it works for them, and it honestly doesn't matter what I think. I believe everyone came from a place of good intentions — but in an already high-pressure life situation, it stretched my nerves to the breaking point. I couldn't stay calm.
The out-of-nowhere rescuer
Then there are the people who feel entitled to weigh in on my life despite the fact that we hadn't spoken in months. They suddenly slide into my chat, jumping straight in, convinced they hold the secret to all my problems. And it never crosses their mind that before stepping into the role of savior, they might want to understand my perspective and my feelings first. Or, heaven forbid, choose a gentler approach than a hastily dashed-off message.
Where were you when it actually mattered?
It also made me wonder: the people who suddenly become problem-solvers — where were they when I actually asked for help? When things were genuinely falling apart. When their only response was to stay out of the awkward situation, or to quietly doubt whether I was even telling the truth.
Thank you, but the person who didn't stand by me at my lowest doesn't get to reappear overnight and cast themselves as my savior.
The "I know better" illusion
I once studied psychology, and I did a little reading on this again — because I genuinely don't believe my friends are driven by bad intentions, and I wanted to understand what's really going on underneath.
It's fascinating why the "I know better" illusion takes hold in us, and it doesn't always come from a need for control. Often it's something quieter: we project our own values onto someone else, assuming that what would work for us must be right for them too.
Another driver is the need for control. We crave predictability, and when someone close to us makes a choice that clashes with our idea of "right," it creates tension inside us. So we try to resolve it by handing out advice, trying to persuade — even steer. And in doing so, our own sense of security grows.
There's also something called naïve realism: our tendency to believe that we see reality clearly, while others are biased or simply don't have the full picture.
Why unsolicited advice hits a nerve
And why don't we always welcome advice, even when it's well-meant? The answer lies in the theory of reactance: when we feel someone is limiting our freedom to decide, a natural resistance kicks in. That's why unsolicited advice can sting — even when the advice itself is genuinely useful.
Why do people give unsolicited advice?
Often it isn't about control at all. People tend to project their own values onto us, assuming that what works for them would work for us too. The need for predictability and a sense of security can also push someone to offer advice you never asked for.
Why does unsolicited advice feel so frustrating?
Because of what psychologists call reactance. When we sense that someone is limiting our freedom to make our own choices, we instinctively push back — even when the advice could actually help us.
What is naïve realism?
It's the tendency to believe we see reality as it truly is, while assuming others are biased or missing important information. It's one reason people feel so certain that their view of your situation is the correct one.
How can I respond to people who overstep?
You don't owe anyone an endless explanation of your personal choices. Remembering that the responsibility for your decisions is ultimately yours alone can make it easier to stay grounded when others insist they know better.
