2025: The power of choice

I have given up on making resolutions. I have failed at keeping them so many times that I don’t even bother anymore. Instead, I choose a word for the year—a single guiding idea to keep me grounded. I can’t even claim credit for this clever approach; I must have stumbled upon it somewhere because it feels far too creative to be mine.

This year, my word is choice.

Where am I planning to apply this word? Everywhere, really. In my personal life, it is about choosing where to spend my energy—on people, activities, and myself. Am I showing up for the things that truly matter? In my professional life, it is about being intentional with my projects and commitments. Not every opportunity needs a “yes,” and that is okay. 

But the first week of this shiny new year triggered a deeper, slightly uncomfortable thought. If I am going to embrace choice as my mantra, I need to give others the freedom to make their choices, too. This is where it gets tricky—because the most challenging “others” in my life are my boys. I want to save them from my mistakes, wrap them in a cocoon of wisdom, and steer them toward smooth, mistake-free paths. But is that really the point? Perhaps they need to stumble and, dare I say it, even fall—to discover their own resilience, to make their own choices.

And yet, letting go is so hard. How do I stand by and watch as they pick a path I wouldn’t have chosen for them, knowing it might lead to struggles? How do I resist swooping in to say, “No, no, do it this way”? (If you have the answers, please send them my way!) But deep down, I know this: My role now is to give them the space to make their own choices—and their own mistakes. Hopefully, they’ll make fresh ones and not recycle mine!

This year, I am learning, reflecting, and taking it one step at a time. I have realized that maybe the actual motto isn’t just “choice,” but good or informed choices. 

Here is where my economist's brain kicks in with a little nugget of theory: opportunity cost. Every decision we make comes at the expense of something else we could have done. Opportunity cost is about those unseen alternatives—the roads not taken. When we spend an hour working late, we might give up quality time with our family. When we save money instead of taking that long-awaited trip, we gain financial security but lose out on creating lasting memories. Every “yes” carries a “no” hidden in its shadow. What fascinates me about opportunity cost is how it forces us to confront what we value most. It’s not just an economic principle but a way of navigating life’s endless decisions. Are we prioritizing the things that align with our goals and happiness, or are we caught up in a whirlwind of obligations and distractions? And here’s the hard part: sometimes, making an informed choice means being okay with the cost. Saying yes to one dream might mean letting another one go—for now, at least.

This perspective is something I am trying to pass on to my kids (in a way that doesn’t sound like a lecture—I am working on that). I want them to understand that every decision has a ripple effect and that what they choose to do today shapes their tomorrow. But I also want them to know that it is okay to make mistakes, to learn from them, and to realize that sometimes the cost of a bad choice is just a better lesson learned. Life is full of trade-offs, and navigating them thoughtfully is part of growing up—for all of us.

So here’s to 2025—a year of choices, of learning when to step in and back, and of embracing the beauty (and messiness) of letting others, especially my kids, find their way. 

Wish me luck. I think I am going to need it.

PS: AI was used for language editing.