I’ve been “thinking about” whether to make a career move for about eighteen months now. Maybe longer, if I’m honest. It’s not that I hate my current situation—I don’t. And it’s not that the alternative is obviously better—it isn’t. It’s just that something feels off, and I can see a different path that might be more aligned with what I want.

So I’ve been considering it. Weighing the pros and cons. Talking it through with friends. Reading about how other people made similar decisions. Waiting for more clarity, more certainty, more information that would make the choice obvious.

And the whole time I’ve been “thinking about it,” I’ve been telling myself I’m being thoughtful, strategic, careful. That I’m keeping my options open. That I’m not rushing into anything. That it’s smart to take time with big decisions.

When you’re not deciding, you think you’re keeping your options open. But you’re actually making a choice—you’re choosing the status quo, choosing uncertainty, choosing to let time and circumstances decide for you.

TOMER ROZENBERG

But here’s what I’ve come to realize: the eighteen months I’ve spent “thinking about it” haven’t been neutral. They haven’t been free time where I kept all my options open. They’ve been eighteen months where I wasn’t fully committed to where I am, wasn’t taking opportunities that would have deepened my investment there, and wasn’t moving toward the alternative either.

I thought not deciding was keeping me flexible. But it was actually keeping me stuck. And the indecision was costing me more than making either choice would have cost.

That’s when I understood: Indecision isn’t the absence of a decision—it’s a decision to stay in limbo. And limbo has real costs that we pretend don’t exist.

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The Illusion of Not Deciding

There’s this comforting belief that when you don’t make a decision, you’re somehow not choosing. You’re staying neutral, keeping options open, maintaining flexibility until you have perfect information.

But that’s not actually what’s happening. When you don’t decide, you are choosing—you’re choosing whatever happens by default when you don’t actively choose something else.

If you’re in a relationship that’s not working but you don’t decide whether to commit to fixing it or end it, you’re choosing to continue in an unsatisfying relationship. That’s a choice, even though you didn’t actively make it.

If you’re unhappy in your job but don’t decide whether to stay and make the best of it or leave for something better, you’re choosing to stay unhappy. That’s a choice, even though you’re calling it “thinking about it.”

If you’re considering whether to move cities but never actually decide, you’re choosing to stay where you are. That might be the right choice! But it’s still a choice, not the absence of one.

I’ve done this with so many things. Tell myself I’m “not deciding yet” about something while months or years pass. The whole time thinking I’m keeping my options open, maintaining flexibility, being strategic about timing.

But I wasn’t keeping options open. I was choosing the default option—whatever happens when you don’t actively choose. And that default option has real consequences that I wasn’t accounting for because I was pretending I wasn’t choosing at all.

What Indecision Actually Costs

The costs of indecision are real, but they’re often invisible because we’re not tracking them. We only see the cost of making a choice—what we’d give up, what might go wrong. We don’t see the cost of not choosing because it happens gradually, spread out over months or years.

First, there’s the mental energy cost. Every undecided decision takes up constant mental space. You’re carrying it with you everywhere, thinking about it in the shower, during commutes, lying awake at night. The mental bandwidth you’re using to hold this decision in limbo is bandwidth you can’t use for anything else.

I’ve noticed this with my career indecision. Some part of my brain is always processing it. I’ll be doing something completely unrelated and suddenly I’m thinking about the decision again. It’s background noise that never turns off, constant processing that never reaches a conclusion.

Second, there’s the opportunity cost. While you’re not deciding, time is passing. Opportunities that were available when you started considering the decision might not be available later. The relationship that could have been saved six months ago might not be salvageable now. The job you were considering might get filled. The apartment might get rented.

You think you’re keeping your options open, but your options are actually narrowing while you decide. The longer you stay in limbo, the fewer real choices you have.

Third, there’s the commitment cost. When you’re undecided about something major, you can’t fully commit to anything. You can’t commit to making your current situation work because you’re considering leaving. You can’t commit to the alternative because you haven’t decided to pursue it. You’re stuck in this half-committed state that prevents you from going all-in on anything.

I see this clearly in my career situation. Because I’m not sure I’m staying long-term, I’m not investing in relationships and opportunities here the way I would if I’d decided to commit. But because I haven’t decided to leave, I’m not actively preparing for or pursuing alternatives. I’m in this limbo state where I’m not fully present anywhere.

The Mental Energy of Perpetual Maybe

What’s exhausting about indecision isn’t the decision itself—it’s the perpetual maybe. The constant state of having something unresolved, hovering in the back of your mind, requiring ongoing mental processing.

A decision, once made, is done. You might have to deal with the consequences, but the decision itself is resolved. You can move forward. The mental space it was occupying is freed up.

But an unmade decision is never resolved. It keeps cycling through your thoughts. You weigh the options again. Consider new information. Imagine different scenarios. Question whether now is the right time. The processing never ends because you never reach a conclusion.

I’ve had friends who spent years in the “should we break up or try to make this work” limbo. The indecision was destroying them. Not because either choice would have been easy, but because the constant uncertainty was eroding their mental health and the relationship itself.

When they finally decided—whether to commit to working on it or to end it—there was immediate relief. Not because the decision solved everything, but because the decision was made. The perpetual maybe was over. They could stop processing and start living with whatever they’d chosen.

That relief tells you something important: the indecision itself was costing more than either decision would have cost.

How Not Choosing Is Still Choosing

Here’s what took me too long to understand: not choosing is not neutral. It’s a choice to let default outcomes play out.

If you don’t decide whether to stay in your current city or move, you’re choosing to stay. The default is staying. If you don’t actively choose otherwise, staying is what happens.

If you don’t decide whether to pursue a relationship or let it go, you’re choosing whatever deterioration or continuation happens without active choice. The default is usually slow drift and eventual ending.

If you don’t decide whether to commit to your current path or change direction, you’re choosing to continue on your current path. The default is continuation.

These defaults might be fine! Staying in your city might be the right choice. Continuing your current path might be good. But they’re choices whether you acknowledge them as choices or not.

The problem is that when you don’t acknowledge you’re choosing, you don’t evaluate whether the choice is good. You just let it happen and then wonder how you ended up somewhere you didn’t consciously choose to be.

I’ve watched people drift into living situations they never wanted because they didn’t actively choose something else. Stay in relationships that had died years ago because they never decided to leave. Continue in careers that made them miserable because they never committed to changing.

All of those were choices. Just passive choices made by not choosing, rather than active choices made deliberately.

Why We Think Limbo Is Safer

The reason we stay in indecision is because it feels safer than making a choice. Choosing feels risky—what if you choose wrong? What if you regret it? What if the alternative would have been better?

Indecision feels like it protects you from those risks. If you don’t choose, you can’t choose wrong. If you never commit, you never have to face the possibility that you committed to the wrong thing.

But this safety is an illusion. Because while you’re protecting yourself from the risk of choosing wrong, you’re guaranteeing the costs of not choosing at all. And those costs often exceed the costs of choosing imperfectly.

I stayed in indecision about my career move partly because I was afraid of choosing wrong. What if I leave and regret it? What if the alternative isn’t actually better? What if I give up something good for something that turns out to be worse?

All valid fears. But while I was protecting myself from those potential regrets, I was guaranteeing eighteen months of mental exhaustion, missed opportunities, and inability to fully commit to anything. The cost of that eighteen months of limbo might be higher than the cost of making the “wrong” choice would have been.

Because here’s the thing about making choices: even if you choose imperfectly, you can usually correct course. Most decisions aren’t permanent. If you move cities and it doesn’t work out, you can move back. If you try a new direction and it’s not right, you can pivot again.

But you can’t get back the time you spent in limbo. The years you spent not deciding are gone. The mental energy you spent processing the same decision over and over is spent. The opportunities that passed while you were deciding are passed.

What You’re Missing While You’re Deciding

One of the hidden costs of indecision is what you miss while you’re stuck in it. Not just the obvious opportunity costs, but the experiences and growth that happen when you commit to a direction.

When you’re undecided about a relationship, you miss the depth that comes from fully committing. You miss the growth that happens when you go all-in on making something work or the clarity that comes from definitively ending it.

When you’re undecided about a career direction, you miss the development that comes from fully investing in a path. You miss the expertise you’d build, the relationships you’d deepen, the opportunities that come from being fully present.

When you’re undecided about where to live, you miss the belonging that comes from committing to a place. You miss building real community, investing in your environment, creating a home rather than just occupying space temporarily.

Commitment—even imperfect commitment—creates opportunities that indecision prevents. When you commit to a direction, even if you’re not completely certain it’s right, you can go deep. You can invest fully. You can take advantage of what’s available in that direction.

But when you’re in limbo, you can’t go deep in any direction. You’re skimming the surface of everything, fully invested in nothing, waiting for certainty before you commit.

And the thing is, certainty often comes from commitment, not before it. You don’t get certain and then commit. You commit and then, through the experience of being committed, you develop certainty about whether it’s right.

The Relief of Committing Even When Uncertain

I’ve noticed something about the times I’ve finally made decisions after long indecision: even when I wasn’t completely certain the decision was right, there was immediate relief in having made it.

The relief wasn’t from knowing I’d made the perfect choice—I often didn’t know that yet. The relief was from no longer being in limbo. From freeing up the mental energy that was going to constant processing. From being able to commit fully to a direction instead of hedging.

I had a friend who was considering leaving their long-term relationship. They spent over a year in this agonizing indecision. Should they stay and work on it? Should they leave? Was the relationship fixable? Were they giving up too easily? Round and round, never reaching a conclusion.

When they finally decided to leave, they weren’t certain it was the right choice. They still had doubts. But the relief of no longer being in the “should I stay or should I go” limbo was enormous. They could stop processing the same decision endlessly and start actually living their life.

Six months later, they were certain it had been the right choice. Not because the alternative would have been terrible, but because being committed to the choice they’d made let them move forward in ways that being stuck in indecision never did.

That’s what I’m learning: you don’t need certainty to make a decision. You need to accept that most decisions are made with incomplete information, some degree of uncertainty, and the understanding that you might need to course-correct later.

The certainty comes from living with the decision, not from having it before you decide.

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Strategic Timing vs. Indefinite Postponement

Now here’s the nuance: I’m not saying every decision should be made immediately without thought. Sometimes waiting makes sense. Sometimes you genuinely need more information, more time to process, more clarity before committing.

The difference is between strategic timing and indefinite postponement.

Strategic timing means you’re actively gathering information, processing what you learn, working toward clarity. You have a timeline—maybe loose, but real. You’re using the time productively, not just avoiding discomfort.

Indefinite postponement means you’re avoiding making the decision, hoping it will somehow become easier or clearer or resolve itself. You’re not actively moving toward a decision—you’re actively avoiding one. And you have no timeline because you’re not planning to decide, you’re planning to keep thinking about it indefinitely.

I can tell the difference in myself. Strategic timing feels productive. I’m learning things, testing possibilities, getting clearer. There’s motion even though I haven’t decided yet.

Indefinite postponement feels stuck. I’m cycling through the same thoughts, not actually getting clearer, not moving toward anything. Just… waiting. Hoping. Avoiding.

And honestly, most of my “I’m still thinking about it” has been indefinite postponement disguised as strategic timing. I’ve been telling myself I’m being thoughtful when really I’m just avoiding the discomfort of choosing.

The Decisions That Keep Reappearing

Here’s a good test for whether you’re engaging in strategic timing or indefinite postponement: if the same decision keeps coming up, if you keep “thinking about” the same thing for months or years without progress toward clarity, you’re probably in indefinite postponement.

Strategic timing moves you toward a decision. Each time you think about it, you’re integrating new information, getting clearer, closer to knowing what to do. There’s progress even when you haven’t decided yet.

Indefinite postponement just cycles. You think about the decision, weigh the same factors you’ve weighed a hundred times, don’t get any clearer, then set it aside until it comes up again. You’re not moving toward anything—you’re just avoiding making the call.

I know I’m in indefinite postponement when I find myself having the exact same internal conversation I had three months ago. Same doubts, same considerations, same lack of resolution. If I’m not getting clearer over time, I’m not in strategic timing—I’m in avoidance.

And the decisions that keep reappearing, that you keep “needing to think about” without ever resolving, are the ones costing you the most. Because they’re taking up constant mental space without progressing toward resolution.

Those are the decisions you probably just need to make, even without perfect certainty, just to stop carrying them.

Permission to Make the Imperfect Decision

Here’s what I want you to know: You don’t need perfect information or complete certainty to make a decision. You need to accept that most important decisions involve some uncertainty, and make them anyway.

You’re allowed to decide even when you’re not completely sure. To commit to a direction even when you can’t see the whole path. To choose even when both options have downsides and neither is obviously superior.

The cost of staying in limbo—the mental energy, the missed opportunities, the inability to commit fully to anything—often exceeds the cost of making the imperfect choice. Choosing imperfectly is usually better than not choosing at all.

And here’s the secret: most decisions aren’t actually permanent. If you choose and it turns out to be wrong, you can usually choose again. You can course-correct. You can pivot. The catastrophic permanence you’re imagining is rarely as catastrophic or permanent as you think.

But the time you spend in indecision? That’s actually gone. You can’t get back the months or years you spent not deciding. The mental energy you spent cycling through the same considerations is spent. The opportunities that passed while you were deciding are passed.

So make the imperfect decision. Choose even without certainty. Commit even with doubts. And trust that living with a chosen direction, even if it turns out to need adjustment, is better than staying stuck in the perpetual maybe of indecision.

What Changes When You Finally Decide

I’ve been working on this in my own life—actually making decisions instead of pretending that “thinking about it” indefinitely is the same as being thoughtful.

And what I’m noticing is that when I finally decide, even when I’m not completely certain, several things change immediately.

First, the mental space clears. I’m not carrying that decision around anymore. The bandwidth it was taking up is freed for other things. This alone is worth the slight uncertainty of having chosen without perfect information.

Second, I can actually commit to something. When I wasn’t decided, I couldn’t go all-in on anything. Now that I’ve chosen a direction, I can invest fully, which opens up possibilities that weren’t available when I was hedging.

Third, I get clarity that I couldn’t get from thinking. The experience of living with a decision teaches me things about whether it’s right that thinking about it never could. Certainty comes from commitment, not before it.

And fourth, I can always choose again if I need to. The decision isn’t permanent. If it becomes clear it’s not working, I can pivot. The choice I make today doesn’t have to be the choice I’m stuck with forever.

None of this means the decision was easy or that I’m certain I chose right. But it does mean I’m no longer stuck in limbo, paying the costs of indecision while pretending I’m being strategic about timing.

The Decision You’re Avoiding Right Now

You know what it is. Just like you knew what conversation you were avoiding when you read that post. You know what decision you’ve been “thinking about” for too long.

Maybe it’s about a relationship. Maybe it’s about your career. Maybe it’s about where you live or how you spend your time or what you’re working toward. But you know what it is.

And you’ve been telling yourself you’re being thoughtful, strategic, careful. Waiting for more clarity, more certainty, more information. Keeping your options open.

But you’re not keeping options open—you’re choosing the default. You’re not being strategic—you’re avoiding discomfort. You’re not waiting for clarity—you’re postponing indefinitely.

And it’s costing you. In mental energy, in missed opportunities, in inability to commit fully to anything. The cost of staying in limbo is real even though it’s invisible.

So make the imperfect decision. Choose even without complete certainty. Commit to a direction even if you’re not completely sure it’s right.

Because the limbo you’re in is worse than either choice would be. The indecision is costing more than deciding would cost. And the relief of finally choosing—even if you choose imperfectly—will be worth the discomfort of making the call.

Stop “thinking about it” indefinitely. Stop pretending that not deciding is keeping you flexible. Stop waiting for certainty that will only come from commitment.

Make the decision. Choose the direction. Commit to the path. And discover that the clarity you were waiting for comes from living with the decision, not from having it before you decide.

The price you’re paying for not deciding? It’s higher than you think. And it’s time to stop paying it.

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