Balance, Goals, Perspective

Robert Frost – and 7 things that make decisions feel harder.

Picture of Sally Ann Kelso
Sally Ann Kelso

July 5, 2025

I have more than once in this space told you of my love for the book (and movie — and now musical!) The Outsiders. And part of what I love about it is the poem Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost. When I read it in the ’80s, it was my first introduction to Robert Frost. That poem was written in 1923. It was first published in The Yale Review in October of that year.

In 1912, more than a decade before he wrote the poem that would one day inspire Johnny to tell Ponyboy to Stay Gold, Robert Frost moved his family to England. He was in his late thirties and still relatively unknown as a poet. While living there, he became close friends with Edward Thomas, a British writer and naturalist. The two often walked together through the countryside, taking long meandering routes and talking about literature and life.

Frost began to notice something about Edward’s personality. When they reached a fork in the path, Edward often paused. He’d consider both options, sometimes struggle to pick one, and later bring up whether they should have gone the other way. The moment passed quickly, but the indecision stayed on Frost’s mind.

Back at home, Frost wrote a poem that captured those moments — The Road Not Taken. He sent it to Edward in a letter in 1915. The tone was meant to be light, even teasing. But Edward read it more seriously. (Sadly, Edward Thomas would die in the war a short two years later.)

The Road Not Taken was first published in August 1915 in The Atlantic Monthly. A year later, it appeared as the opening poem in Mountain Interval, Frost’s 1916 collection.

The story behind The Road Not Taken centers on a moment of hesitation. Robert Frost had watched a friend repeatedly pause at a fork in the road. The poem captures the weight that can settle over a choice, especially when both options look the same. It holds the quiet sting of not knowing how the other path might have unfolded.

The final line is often misread as a declaration of pride: “I took the [road] less traveled by.” But the poem actually stays rooted in uncertainty. It reflects how decisions can feel heavy simply because we don’t get to go back and see what the other way would have been.

Several years ago, Alice Boyes, Ph.D., posted about some of the ways our brains make it hard to move forward with a decision. Here’s my take on some of the things that make choosing between two paths so hard.

  1. We tell ourselves we need more information.
    This can show up as researching, polling friends, or making pro/con lists that don’t tell us anything new. The delay feels practical, but it’s often just hesitation in disguise.
  2. We jump too far ahead.
    Instead of staying with the step we’re on, we leap into what-ifs about future logistics, outcomes, or reactions. Our attention drifts away from what’s doable right now and into a version of the future we can’t control yet.
  3. We don’t want to have the conversation.
    The next move might involve asking, telling, or clarifying — and we’re bracing for discomfort. The decision gets tangled up in the interaction that follows it.
  4. We hold the choice like it’s permanent.
    There’s a quiet pressure to get it right the first time, even when adjustments might be possible later. The finality we imagine makes it harder to move.
  5. We try to choreograph how others will take it.
    We think there’s a version of the decision where no one is disappointed or confused — and our brains try to find it. That extra mental load can keep us stuck longer than we realize.
  6. We’ve already decided. We just haven’t acted yet.
    Sometimes we circle a decision even after we’ve landed on what we want to do. We rethink it over and over again. There’s nothing new to figure out, but taking the first step still feels big.
  7. We wait to feel something that will tell us we’re ready.
    We might be expecting a moment of clarity, peace, or certainty to arrive before we act. When that feeling doesn’t come, we stay in limbo, hoping it will.

The pressure to get it exactly right is sometimes quiet and sometimes really, really loud — but the truth is, most progress in making a decision simply comes from moving forward.

I can’t wait to hear which of these reasons resonate with you and about how you’re going to choose the road before you, even if the outcome is unknown.

And if you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here. 

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PS If you liked this post – or any others, I’d love you to pass me and my work on to a friend.  They can find out much more about me here if they’re interested!

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