We all love having choices. Cow’s milk or oat? Streaming or cable? Stay in or go out? We want to be the deciders. Masters of our destiny. Queens of our calendars.
But what I didn’t know I didn’t know was that sometimes – sometimes – having fewer choices can actually bring more joy. Not to mention fewer headaches.
Control Was My GPS
I used to think my worth in this world came from how much I got to choose. I believed that being large-and-in-charge was the ultimate badge of success. I mean, I was the kid who circled all the toys I wanted for Christmas in the JC Penney catalog. I needed options. I needed control. I needed to know if there was a low-fat version, just in case.
When Life Picks for You
Then came the parent-teacher conference that quietly dismantled all that.
The family was from a country where arranged marriages are the norm. The father was funny and loud and made everyone laugh – even his two school-aged sons, which is no small feat. The mom was quiet, gentle, reserved. They were opposites in many ways. But they looked at each other like newlyweds in a Hallmark movie. You know, the part after the big misunderstanding.
The mom was talking about making decisions and brought up her marriage with a smile. I must have looked confused, because she looked at me and said, “Eh. What do you know? It just worked out.” She shrugged, like she was talking about a soup recipe she tried once. “Everyone I know from home is still married and happy.”
Wait, what?
This felt like the opposite of everything I’d grown up believing about relationships, independence, and the woman-power way. You choose your own mate. You pick your path. You make sure you are compatible, and if not, you move on.
And yet here they were, with their content smiles and well-adjusted children, reminding me that maybe not every decision has to be made after exhaustive research and a Venn Diagram. My Type-A teacher personality took quite a hit.
Simplicity Underrated
Honestly, I used to roll my eyes at people who said things like, “Too many options can be overwhelming.” I thought they were just indecisive. Weak. The kind of people who stare at a Cheesecake Factory menu for 45 minutes and then order boring Fettuccine Alfredo.
But now I see beauty in simplicity.
I downsized my closet, and I wear the same few outfits on repeat. Fewer choices, less stress.
When our kids were growing up, we gave them fewer toy options, and guess what? They played longer. They played outside a lot. (What a blessing that smartphones and streaming weren’t much of an issue yet.)
I stopped spending 30 minutes scrolling for the perfect show and started rewatching old sitcoms. My blood pressure dropped 10 points.
The Grocery Store Test
And don’t even get me started on grocery stores. I live in a town with a mega-market called Woodman’s, where there are more than 80 choices of olives. Eighty! I have stood in that olive aisle longer than I care to admit. Then there’s Aldi, which offers a tidy selection of two or three. They don’t even pretend to give you options – they just hand you a cart that requires a quarter and say, “Trust us.”
Researchers once set up a jam-tasting station with 24 flavors. People flocked to it, sampled them, and walked away. But when they offered just six, people actually bought the jam. Because apparently, too many alternatives can send us into a fruit-flavored spiral of indecision. (I feel this deeply in the frozen pizza aisles.)
The Myth of “More Is Better”
Somewhere along the way, we started believing that more equals better. More options, more features, more control. Even refrigerators now come with touchscreens that stream TV, cameras that text you photos of your leftovers, voice assistants that add milk to your shopping list, mood lighting for your lettuce, and even built‑in Keurig coffee makers. At this point, fridges will soon offer AI life coaching when I reach for the ice cream instead of the kale.
It’s not just appliances. It’s everything. Moisturizers that promise hydration, illumination, and inner peace. Smartphones that do everything but clean the bathtub.
And what about toothpaste? There is whitening, tartar control, sensitive, fluoride, charcoal, and sparkles. I just want my teeth clean, and I don’t want to have a 10-minute inner debate as I make a choice.
I used to get caught in the trap. Compare. Overthink. Hesitate. But I’m learning that having less to pick from, like Aldi’s modest olive aisle or my pared-down closet, actually makes room for contentment.
Because more doesn’t always mean better. Sometimes it just means tired.
Good Enough Might Be Perfect
Maybe there’s something to be said for letting life narrow the field a bit.
I used to think if I wasn’t in control, I would lose. Now I think, maybe I’m gaining peace. Space. Sanity.
Having fewer selections lets me see more clearly the good things right in front of me: the husband who still makes me laugh, the grown children who still enjoy hanging out with me, and the bliss of knowing my favorite outfit is already in the closet – and already stretchy.
I’m deeply content in my marriage – not because I had a thousand suitors and picked the best one, but because, as I wrote in my Serendipity article, the right person often shows up in the most unexpected ways. Sometimes life chooses for us. And if we’re lucky, it chooses well.
I still like having options. But I’m learning that not everything has to be a multiple-choice test. Sometimes the answer is just: this. Right here. This life. This moment. And knowing it’s already enough.
Author’s Note:
If you enjoyed this story, you might also like my article Serendipity, where I explore how unexpected moments and people shape our lives in the most beautiful ways. And if you’re a fan of laughter, heart, and honest conversations, check out my teacher bestie’s and my podcast We Didn’t Know, where we unpack the things we didn’t know we didn’t know – until life taught us anyway.
Let’s Talk About It:
- What’s one area of your life where you’ve actually felt happier with fewer choices? (Closet? TV shows? Toothpaste? Grandkids’ toy bins?)
- Have you ever had a decision made for you that ended up being the best thing that could’ve happened? (A job you didn’t get? A move you didn’t plan? A spouse you almost didn’t notice?)
- Do you feel like our culture pushes “more is better”? Where do you feel that pressure most: shopping, parenting, aging, relationships?
- What’s one thing you could simplify this week, not because you have to, but because you want to breathe a little easier? (Be honest: is it your sock drawer or your email inbox?)
