There’s a particular kind of stuckness that isn’t actually about the choice. You’ve weighed it. You’ve made the spreadsheet, asked the friends, slept on it twice. The information isn’t missing. You are.

I notice it in myself most clearly when I catch the shape of the thinking. The same loop, the same arguments, walked around and around like I’m looking for a door that isn’t there. The loop isn’t trying to find the answer. It’s keeping me away from the silence the answer needs.

When I finally stop and breathe, the answer is usually already there, sitting where it had been the whole time. Not arriving. Just visible again.

The decision wasn’t waiting on more thinking. It was waiting on me to come back into the room.