Over fall break, I swear I heard the phrase a hundred times: “Wow, you’re a senior? Where did the time go?” And part of me echoes this sentiment. I can hardly believe that I’m so close to the end of my time at Scripps. But when I think back to how much I’ve matured since my Senior year of high school, it’s evident to me that the only way to describe this time isn’t in terms of how long or short it has felt, but how rich it has been in terms of personal growth.

Four years ago, I was freaking out. I was worrying about finishing eight applications, graduating, and leaving my small home town. Like all high school seniors, I was faced with some major uncertainty, and some major decisions. And for the first time in my life, I realized how scary decisions can be.

When I received my acceptance letters, my anxiety around decision making only got worse Every time I started to get close to picking one college, I would think about all that I would be giving up by making that decision. Even when I decided on Scripps, I was plagued by thoughts about a hypothetical future life at Colorado College. By picking Scripps, would I just be giving up weekend skiing trips? Or would I be giving up much more- like a more like-minded community of students?

It had never occurred to me before that in order to make a decision, you have to commit, and that in order to make commitments you have to shut one door- or more. This prospect was terrifying to me. I was totally equipped to make a decision, yet I was plagued by inaction. I had done all my research, I made list after list of pros and cons, I felt certain that I had explored all my options, and still feel I paralyzed about which to pick.

Thinking back to this time, it’s pretty evident to me how much I’ve changed. Today, I find myself faced with many similar decisions, and a whole lot of uncertainty. The major difference is that I’m not freaking out.

So what changed? Part of the difference is simply practice. Four years ago, I’d never made a major decision in my life. At this point, I’ve made a few. However, there was one moment for me when four years ago, things really clicked. As I was making my college decision, I read a piece of writing that gave me the gift of acceptance, entirely changing my outlook on decision-making.

I was still trying to decide on a school when I read Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed (better known for her memoir, Wild). Tiny Beautiful Things is a compilation of Cheryl Strayed’s reflections on life, written in the form of advice letters. It was one particular letter that has stuck with me ever since.

The letter is titled “The Ghost-Ship that Didn’t Carry Us.” In it, Cheryl Strayed writes to a man trying to make an irrevocable life decision, and offers the following wisdom:

“you want clarity about which course to take, but perhaps you should let that go… there will likely be no clarity, at least at the outset; there will only be the choice you make and the sure knowledge that either one will contain some loss… I’ll never know and neither will you of the life you don’t choose. We’ll only know that whatever that sister life was, it was important and beautiful and not ours. It was the ghost ship that didn’t carry us. There’s nothing to do but salute it from the shore.”

The idea that I could make a decision without knowing for sure whether it was the “right” decision was earth-shattering for me. I’d never considered that you could simply make a decision, almost arbitrarily, and never look back.

Ever since I read that letter, , I’ve let the “ghost-ship” philosophy guide most of my decisions.

After I spend some time writing out the pros and cons, after I explore my options, I simply make a commitment. I let go of the idea that the “correct” decision exists somewhere out there. I accept that by making a decision, I may be closing doors.

I’m not exaggerating when I say that I have never since felt anxiety about making a commitment. It no longer bothers me that I may be missing out on some things in life. Because here’s the thing- I’ve discovered that whenever I have fully committed to a decision, while I have closed some doors, I’ve opened others.

As I get closer to life after Scripps, I’m definitely a little nervous. But I’m mostly excited. Many options have been granted to me, and while I can’t pick all of them, I have the privilege of picking one.