The Choice I Didn't Think I Had: Why Freedom Often Begins by Recognizing You Have a Choice

Freedom isn't about blowing up your life. It's about recognizing you have a choice. I had built a life that looked successful, and then had to decide whether I would continue living according to the script I had inherited and reinforced, or trust myself enough to choose differently.

I had worked at a university for over fifteen years. I had a great community of coworkers, alumni, and students that helped create meaning for me. I had made the decision to pursue my doctorate with every intention of staying in higher education. I was competent at what I did, continued to be a learner, and most days genuinely enjoyed my work. I had built a full ecosystem of a life at the university. There were parts that truly fit me: understanding the student population, wanting to see the development of other staff around me, and believing in the value of education and the organic lived experiences that happen on a college campus.

Though slowly, with new administration and COVID, the "why" and the benefits began to shift. If someone had met me then, they probably would have assumed I enjoyed my job overall and would still be working on a college campus today.

Maybe the inherited scripts that kept me there were that this was a great job. I loved the people I worked with. I loved interacting with students every day, seeing their lives change over time, and helping provide new experiences. I was so invested in the university, and higher education in general, why would I change? I think it was easy to be an achiever in that space. I felt like a competent leader with the balance of people skills and the ability to be strategic.

Then there were probably at least two turning points. I began to realize my philosophy on life was no longer aligned with my boss's. That made things difficult. I found myself responding each day to what I would call unnecessary hurdles. They continually pulled me away from the primary things that mattered most to me. The second turning point was the arrival of COVID and the lack of resources to manage it effectively. Internally, over the course of several months, I began to notice, "This isn't working for me anymore." It was affecting my health, and I wasn't operating in the lane I usually do.

I also arrived at the realization that I had a choice. I had to come to the point of believing it was okay to decide what was best for me. I trusted that the people I cared about on campus, and who cared about me, would either understand or be curious enough to ask. It became harder to ignore what I knew to be true. This isn't working. You don't have the right resources. You can't sleep from midnight until four every night and expect to sustain it. You have asked multiple times for what is needed and it still isn't being provided. The question that kept surfacing was timing. Alongside it was the growing awareness of the toll it was taking physically, mentally, and emotionally. At some point, it became more detrimental to stay than to leave. I was slowly killing myself.

Maybe the fear was losing connection with a group of students, staff, and faculty I genuinely enjoyed. Maybe the fear was that the next job could be equally challenging. What if I wanted to return to higher education one day? Would this decision eliminate that future opportunity? Maybe I had to be willing to grieve what I had helped build. I wasn't worried people would think I was crazy. I think I worried more that they wouldn't understand, or that they would assume things that weren't true.

The choice allowed me to choose my values. It allowed me to return to myself. I often use the word "defragment" to move off the stress, slow down, and bring clarity. It was less about escaping the university and more about moving back toward myself. Alignment with me. Initially, freedom looked like slower days, time for my thoughts, and giving my body the rest it had been asking for. It also affirmed something I already knew, things move on. The university would move on, no one person keeps anything together. It is always the sum of many people. I think believing that helped me not overvalue my role.

I had a plan, I was going to move toward obtaining my state mental health counseling license. I knew it would take a few months. But I also knew I needed time to do not much of anything. To restore some of the things I had neglected. Maybe that's what freedom actually is not certainty, not the absence of fear, and not having every step figured out. Maybe freedom is trusting yourself enough to choose differently when the old way no longer fits. Maybe it's recognizing that faithfulness isn't always staying and sometimes faithfulness looks like honesty. Honesty about what is costing you too much, about what matters most and about who you are becoming.

So I wonder:

Where have you confused familiarity with faithfulness?

What scripts are you still obeying without questioning?

What have you decided is "just who I am"?

What small choice is asking to be made?

And what would freedom look like if it wasn't dramatic, but intentional?

Last week, we began with awareness: seeing the stories, patterns, and systems that have quietly shaped our lives. This week, we take the next step: freedom. For me, freedom looked like leaving a career I loved but no longer aligned with who I was becoming. For someone else, it may look like setting a boundary, having a difficult conversation, letting go of an old role, asking for help, or choosing to respond differently than you always have. Freedom isn't always dramatic. Often, it's simply recognizing that you have a choice.

Over the next three weeks, we'll continue exploring connection, resilience, and legacy. Because the journey from stuck to free isn't about becoming someone else. It's about becoming more fully yourself. And if you're ready to explore these ideas more deeply, these are the same pillars we walk through together in my online course, From Stuck to Free.

About the Author

Sarah Currie, Ph.D., LCMHC, is a therapist at Halos Counseling in North Carolina. Through counseling, writing, and online programs, she helps people navigate change, understand themselves more deeply, and build lives that reflect what matters most.