🕹️ Two Buttons

Decisions Are Hard. Especially When Both Options Have Consequences—and Calories.

The other day I found myself standing in front of the fridge, staring down a half-eaten lasagna and a single stalk of celery. I was caught between two competing futures: one in which I felt morally superior and slightly hungry, and one in which I was briefly euphoric and then horizontal for three hours.

Life is full of these moments: two buttons, one sweaty hand, and a brain that hums like a microwave full of forks.

⏺ STAGE 1: THE PANIC OF POSSIBILITIES

You see two options. Both are reasonable. Both are terrifying. One promises growth. The other promises a nap. You sweat like you’re on a game show hosted by your inner critic.

This is the fork in the road, the spoon in the soup, the broccoli in the ice cream. Decision-making, despite what economists say, is rarely rational. It's often a weird stew of childhood memories, caffeine levels, and the proximity of snacks. The panic isn’t from lack of options. It’s from abundance. You’re not frozen because you don’t know what to do. You’re frozen because both buttons feel like betrayal.

🌟 STAGE 2: THE DELUSION OF A PERFECT CHOICE

You wait for the clarity to arrive. You wait for a sign. You check horoscopes, gut feelings, tarot cards, and the alignment of your pantry items. You over-research. You under-decide. You hope the right path will glow like a toaster oven in a dark room.

But here’s the thing: there is no perfect choice. There’s only the one you made. The lasagna will always have more flavor. The celery will always feel more virtuous. You will never eat both at once without creating a metaphorical abomination. Sometimes the choice is just about which discomfort you can sit with longer.

🔄 STAGE 3: THE CHOICE THAT ISN’T REALLY A CHOICE

You press the button. Maybe it’s the responsible thing. Maybe it’s a soft spiral into a cozy disaster. Maybe it’s pretending to press both while lying on the kitchen floor whispering to a frozen waffle. Whatever it is, you move.

Even the act of postponing is a decision. Even avoidance has consequences. Sometimes it’s okay to crumble. Sometimes crumbling is productive. And sometimes, productivity is just a socially acceptable form of distraction. Either way, once you act, the tension releases. The microwave stops sparking. The internal screaming quiets.

🍬 Butterwell’s Advice on Difficult Decisions

When I can’t decide, I do three things:

1. Eat something mildly disappointing. A dry biscuit. A room-temp apple. The kind of snack that calms you with its mediocrity.

2. Talk to a plant. Not because it talks back. But because it listens without blinking.

3. Choose the option that feels slightly ridiculous. The one that makes you laugh nervously. The one you’ll regret just slightly less.

You don’t need full certainty to press a button. You just need enough momentum to lean toward one side of the couch. Or life. Same thing.

---

🧩 Crumb of Meaning:
Every big decision is just a small decision wearing stilts. Knock it over gently. Then eat a sandwich.

🤖 Disclaimer:
This emotional wisdom was cooked slowly over the open flame of indecision and seasoned with too much paprika.

🍽️ Serving Suggestion:
Read this while sweating in front of your own metaphorical button panel, ideally while holding a snack you didn't choose on purpose.

---

If you don’t know by now that you should buy the t-shirt, I don’t know what to tell you.

📝 A Note from Butterwell:

People often misread that Frost poem about the two roads. They think it's about boldly taking the quirky, leaf-covered path. It isn’t. It’s about how we choose a path—any path—and then quietly convince ourselves it was brave and intentional because we can't go back.

I think about that every time I stand in front of the buttons.
Productivity. Crumbling Softly.

They both look reasonable. They both look worn.
And no matter which I press, I tell myself it’s the right one.
Not because it was right… but because it was mine.
And that’s how we make peace with the life we’re piecing together.

So whichever road you chose this morning—
even if it ended in toast and tears—
just know: it’s your road now.
Bring snacks.

Coming Soon!

The book you didn’t know you needed… because denial is one of your core coping skills.