What If You Know What You Don’t Want—but Not What You Do Want?

How to make big life decisions when the “right” choice isn’t obvious

Maybe you’ve reached a point in your life where you know something isn’t working anymore.

Maybe it’s your job. A relationship. How you’re spending your time. A hobby that no longer feels meaningful. A version of yourself that you’ve outgrown.

You know what you don’t want.

But when you ask yourself what you do want, the answer isn’t nearly as clear.

And then another question appears: How do I know if I’m making the right decision?

This is a question that comes up often when we’re navigating big life transitions. And unfortunately, there probably isn’t a magical moment when the answer appears with complete certainty.

You may not suddenly know exactly what to do.

And that doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.

What if there isn’t a “right” choice?

When we’re faced with a big decision, it’s easy to believe there must be one objectively correct answer.

Should I stay or go?

Should I take the new job?

Should I stay in this relationship?

Am I making a mistake?

When anxiety or perfectionism gets involved, we can start believing that we need to figure out the right answer before we take any action.

And if we can’t find certainty, we stay stuck.

But many of life’s biggest decisions don’t work that way.

There isn’t always a right or wrong answer waiting for you to discover.

Instead, there may be a direction that feels more aligned with what matters to you.

That shifts the question from: How do I make the right choice?

To: What matters to me, and what would it look like to move even a little bit in that direction?

Start with what you already know

If you know what you don’t want, that’s actually useful information.

Pick one area of your life—career, relationships, friendships, family, creativity, or something else—and make three columns:

Absolutely not
Preferable
Ideal

You don’t need to fill in every box.

You might simply start with: I don’t want to be constantly available outside of work.

Then ask: What would feel preferable?

Maybe having evenings without work communication.

And then: What would feel ideal?

Maybe having a job with significantly more autonomy over your schedule.

The point isn’t to create a perfect vision of your future.

It’s to start giving language to what does and doesn’t fit.

And as you do this, pay attention to the external voices that sneak into the process.

I should want this.

My parents think this would be better.

This is what successful people do.

My partner would be happier if I chose this.

This is what I’m supposed to want at this age.

Those voices may be loud.

But they’re not necessarily yours.

Figuring out what you want is an inside job.

Use your values as a compass

This is where values can be especially helpful.

A goal is something you can accomplish.

A value is something you practice and move toward.

For example, getting a new job is a goal.

Having autonomy, creativity, stability, connection, or flexibility might be values.

You don’t ever finish living your values. They’re more like a compass.

You don’t arrive at “North” and announce that you’ve successfully completed North.

Rather, you keep moving in that direction.

So instead of asking: “Is this the perfect job for me?”

You might ask: “Does this job allow me to live in a way that is consistent with what matters to me?”

Maybe you value flexibility. Maybe you value financial stability. Maybe you value creativity or meaningful connection.

Once you identify what matters, you can look at your current situation with curiosity:

Where am I aligned?

Where am I not aligned?

What is within my control?

You don’t need to judge yourself for the areas that aren’t working. You’re gathering information.

Look for the smallest movement toward alignment

Once you’ve identified a value, ask:

What’s one small shift I could make in that direction?

If you value more freedom at work, maybe the shift is setting a clearer boundary around when you respond to email.

Maybe it’s asking for more flexibility.

Maybe it’s researching other jobs.

If you value vulnerability and authentic communication in your relationships, maybe the shift is practicing saying what you actually think and feel instead of automatically making things easier for everyone else.

Maybe the shift is having a conversation you’ve been avoiding.

And sometimes, you’ll discover that the small shifts you make aren’t enough to resolve the misalignment.

That’s important information, too.

You might realize:

I’ve changed what I can change internally.

I’ve communicated what I need.

I’ve tried making external changes.

And this situation still isn’t aligned with what matters to me.

That doesn’t automatically tell you what to do next.

But it gives you more information about the possibility of change.

You don’t have to know the whole path

This is the part I wish more people knew about big life decisions:

You don’t have to see the entire path before taking the next step.

Imagine you’re standing at a fork in the road.

You don’t need a map that shows you exactly where you’ll be five years from now.

You need enough information to decide which direction you want to explore next.

And you can adjust again.

You can change your mind.

You can learn something new.

You can discover that the direction you thought you wanted doesn’t actually fit once you experience it.

That’s not failure.

That’s information.

This is where I think possibility can be a useful concept.

Hope says: I hope this works out.

Possibility asks: What might become possible if I move in this direction?

You don’t have to know exactly what will happen.

You can simply make a small turn toward what matters and pay attention to what happens next.

Try sitting with these questions

You don’t need to answer these all at once. In fact, I’d encourage you not to.

Write them down somewhere you can return to them and let yourself sit with them over time.

What do I know I don’t want anymore?

What do I want more of in my life?

What matters to me beneath the outcome I’m trying to achieve?

Where am I currently living in alignment with those values—and where am I not?

What is one small shift within my control that would move me in a more aligned direction?

There may not be a moment when everything suddenly becomes clear.

Instead, clarity often develops because we are willing to live the questions.

You don’t have to know exactly where you’re going.

You can notice what matters.

You can make a small turn.

You can pay attention to what you learn.

And then you can make another small turn.

Maybe the question isn’t: “How do I know I’m making the right choice?”

Instead it becomes: “What matters to me, and what does even a small movement in that direction look like?”