It only has to work for you

Yeah, no thanks. (Charles Tschaggeny, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

I have recently become reacquainted with the drama of booking a flight.

It is a fraught decision-making experience. Not only must you navigate existential issues like, “Am I even going to be the same person seven weeks from now? What if I’m not alive? What if I don’t want to go on this trip?”, you also have to deal with logistical ones, plus shifting and unpredictable prices that create a sense of urgency and FOMO. As much as I love travel, I do not love this process.

My situation is a little more complex than it used to be, too. In Atlanta, you just hop on a train that dumps you out at the busiest and most well-connected airport in the world. Now, I’m living at the edge of the earth, which means a long bus ride to Boston and then onward.

Or so I thought! I discovered that a local airline has been quietly competing with the bus and actually undercutting its price. Which means that I can travel ten minutes to the local county airport, climb aboard a tiny Cessna, and arrive at Logan around ninety minutes later, saving me a few bumpy hours, all for $29 including tax.

Of course, I couldn’t find any reasonably-priced flights to my ultimate destination that were easily compatible with the arrival time of the puddle jumper. So I’ll spend a few less-bumpy hours sitting at the airport before the next leg of the journey.

The return trip is even crazier: I’m going to get my old car, the one with the lapsed registration that’s been mostly sitting in various driveways getting covered with pollen since the start of the pandemic, and I’m going to fix it up and drive it home.

I could question every aspect of my travel plans, from the money to the timing to the modes of transportation. I could even question whether to take the trip in the first place. But I arrived at something that I’m comfortable with, and it only has to work for me.

There are so many decisions that we make that are filtered through the opinions of others, whether real or imagined. And sometimes we need to take those opinions into account, like when we’re actually traveling with other people. But often, we look to others to know whether we’re doing it “right.” And this lack of trust in ourselves can actually add complexity to our decision-making process instead of giving us the shortcut and validation we’re seeking. We might, like the old man, the boy, and the donkey, end up far astray from what we intended to achieve.

That moment before I hit the “book” button is always filled with tension. What if this isn’t the right flight? What if it’s not the right day? What if it’s not the right destination? But when I follow through and commit, I’m demonstrating that I trust myself. Whatever happens, I’ll figure it out. It is a good metaphor for life.

The second you do a thing, you are opening yourself up to other people’s opinions. And the bolder you are, the more unique your approach, the better target you become. You can go around trying to sand down all the rough edges of yourself and your creations, or you can take the skepticism and criticism with a grain of salt. You’re the one who knows which trade-offs you’re willing to make, what you’re willing to prioritize, and the homework you’ve done to ensure your safety and well-being. If you have a vision in mind, you ought to be picky about whom you allow to steer you away from it.

There are those for whom flying in a mask—and sitting at the airport in one—is intolerable, and therefore flying is off the table altogether. There are those who would prefer the bus to the tiny plane. There are those who would spend an extra few hundred bucks to fly out of a different airport or to have a shorter layover. All of those choices are fine and reasonable. They’re just not mine. It doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with the way I’m doing it.

There’s no right or wrong to traveling, selling or keeping my car, any of it. Each choice I make steers me down a path that is mine and mine alone. The choices I make may affect other people, and that is my responsibility. That is one of the factors among many I must consider when make my decision, and then I must live with the consequences. The results are my burden to bear and my privilege to enjoy.

If you’re at a crossroads, you may be hearing lots of advice. Ultimately, you’ve got to do what works for you, and if it’s a decision you make by yourself, for yourself, it only truly has to work for you. It might not be something that anyone else would want or tolerate, but if it’s just right in your eyes, it’s just right.