Beyond the Fig Tree: Living Without Fear

April 9, 2026

Writer: Yumna Syed

Editor: Emily Cavero

For most of my life, I believed my indecisiveness existed only when making decisions. I could never choose what I wanted for dinner. I always tried on about three outfits before I settled on a final one. I have always hesitated over almost every choice I make, even ones as trivial as these.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found that my indecisiveness is a little more serious than I initially thought. It manifests itself in my broader life. I’ve never quite known what I wanted to do with my life. Career-wise, family-wise, everything feels just a little uncertain. I’m spending my time in college majoring in computer science, but I’ve known since I was a little girl that I love the humanities. I often feel like I’ve made the wrong decision—like I’m going to regret what I’ve chosen for my life in five years when I realize I’ll spend my days staring at an office computer from 9 AM to 5 PM. 

The fear of giving up something you don’t even have has followed me for so long. It wasn’t until a few years ago that it was finally explained to me in a way that I could understand.

My English teacher in high school recommended that I read The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. I didn’t know then how much this book would change the trajectory of my thinking.

Plath uses a very specific analogy to describe the main character, Esther Greenwood’s, life: a fig tree. Each fig represents a potential future life for Esther based on the choices she makes. One fig is a writer’s life. Another is a traveler’s life. Another is a scholar’s life. She wants all of them. In her mind, choosing one means losing the others. As she contemplates and tries to decide which fig to pick, they all begin to wrinkle and fall to the ground. Esther is left staring at an empty tree. Her inability to choose one path results in losing all options.  

After reading this analogy, I felt as though someone had put into words something that I could never quite explain about my mind. I describe this trait of mine as paralysis by overchoice. I didn’t want just one version of my life. I didn’t want to choose between the things I loved. I wanted all of it. The idea that choosing one future means losing another has always made me feel like time was slipping away while I was still trying to decide.

For a long time, I carried that image of the fig tree with me like a warning. I thought the goal was to choose carefully enough to make sure I picked the right fig. I thought if I made the wrong choice, I would lose something I could never get back.

But recently, I’ve started to think about the fig tree differently. 

Instead of trying to decide what my entire life should look like, I’ve started trying to make smaller decisions that make me happy in the present. I’ve let myself take humanities classes that remind me why I’ve always loved reading and writing, even though they don’t make complete sense with my major. I’ve stopped treating my interests like they have to compete with each other and have begun following what feels unique to me.

I used to think choosing meant losing something. Now, I think choosing is how you learn what is worth taking with you.

Maybe the goal isn’t to pick the perfect fig before the others disappear. Maybe the goal is just to keep reaching for the ones that matter to you when they’re in front of you. And maybe if I keep doing that, I won’t have to be afraid of wanting everything anymore.