You know what’s unbelievable? I used to be absolutely stuck by making choices. Like, seriously immobilized in place whenever I had to pick anything more important than what to have for breakfast – and honestly, even that sometimes felt intense. My fear of choices wasn’t just affecting small choices; it was totally derailing major life possibilities, both individually and professionally.

Let me tell you about how bad it got. I remember this one time when my boss presented me a promotion that would have required moving to a different department. It was everything what I thought I desired – more responsibility, better pay, interesting projects – but instead of feeling excited, I just felt this wave of anxiety wash over me. What if I wasn’t ready? What if I failed? What if the new team didn’t like me? What if I longed for my old coworkers? The «what ifs» just kept spiraling until I basically shut down. I told my boss I needed time to think, which was really «I’m going to overthink this until the opportunity vanishes.»

And vanish it did. Two weeks later, when I finally felt brave enough to accept, they’d already given the position to someone else. I was crushed, but honestly, a part of me was also relieved. That’s how warped my relationship with decision-making had gotten – I was more at ease with the surety of missed opportunities than the ambiguity of actually making a choice.

This pattern occurred itself over and over. Job chances, romances, major purchases, even simple things like choosing where to go on vacation. I’d research endlessly, consider every possible outcome, talk with friends and family, and basically create charts in my head about the pros and cons of every conceivable option. By the time I was prepared to decide, the opportunity would have expired, or I’d be so mentally drained that I’d just end up doing nothing.

The real breaking point came when my girlfriend at the time (now my wife, thankfully) suggested we move in together. It was the sensible next step in our relationship, we were spending almost every night together anyway, and it made perfect financial sense. But me? I completely lost it. I started worrying about everything – what if we got sick of each other? What if I was a terrible roommate? What if our cleaning habits didn’t match? I actually suggested we keep separate apartments for «a while longer» while I «thought about it.»

Looking back, I can’t believe she didn’t just dump me right then and there. But instead, she did something that changed everything. She saw how I’d sometimes decompress by playing baseball video games, and one evening she just sat down and watched me play.

What she saw – and what I’d never really awarely noticed – was that when I was playing baseball games, I was making dozens of quick decisions without any apparent anxiety. Do I swing at this pitch? Do I steal second base? Do I bring in the relief pitcher? Do I bunt to advance the runner? These were all strategic decisions that needed quick thinking under pressure, and I was making them self-assuredly and instinctively.

«You’re really good at making decisions in the game,» she said nonchalantly. «Why is it so different there?»

And honestly, that question just struck me like a ton of bricks. She was absolutely right. In baseball games, I was decisive, strategic, and self-assured. I trusted my instincts, I learned from my mistakes, and I didn’t get frozen by the possibility of making the wrong choice. So why couldn’t I apply that confidence to real-life decisions?

That talk ignited something in me. I started paying more attention of how I handled baseball games, and I realized there were some important lessons there about decision-making that I’d been completely ignoring.

First, baseball games taught me that you don’t have ideal information, and that’s alright. In real life, I was always trying to collect every possible fact before making a decision, which was not feasible and just led to analysis paralysis. But in baseball games, I had to make decisions based on incomplete information – I didn’t know exactly what pitch was coming, I didn’t know for sure whether the runner would be safe at second, I didn’t know whether my risk to bring in a struggling pitcher would work out. But I made the best decision I could with the information I had, and if it turned out wrong, well, that was just part of the game.

Additionally, baseball games helped me understand that not every decision needs to be flawless. Sometimes, in baseball, you make a strategic choice that doesn’t work out, but as long as it was logical given the circumstances, you learn from it and move on. I was treating real-life decisions like they all had to be absolutely perfect, which was an unachievable standard that was keeping me frozen.

Most importantly, and maybe most importantly, baseball games gave me immediate feedback. When I made a bad decision in a game, I’d see the consequences right away – the strikeout, the stolen base, the home run against me. This immediate feedback loop helped me develop better decision-making instincts over time. In real life, the consequences of our decisions often take much longer to reveal themselves, which makes it harder to learn and improve.

I started deliberately trying to apply these lessons to my real-life decision-making. When faced with a choice, I’d ask myself: «What would I do if this were a baseball game?» Would I overanalyze for weeks, or would I make the best decision I could with the information available and trust myself to handle whatever comes next?

My first real test came when another opportunity at work appeared – a chance to lead a major project. My old self would have immediately started descending into anxiety, studying endlessly, and probably missing the deadline to express interest. But this time, I approached it differently. I gathered the key information, thought about the key factors, and made a decision within a couple of days. I told my boss I was interested and ready to take on the challenge.

Was I nervous? Absolutely. But instead of letting that immobilize me, I treated it like I would a high-pressure situation in a baseball game – focus, trust your instincts, and execute. And you know what? The project went smoothly. I made some mistakes along the way, learned from them, and ultimately produced something I was proud of.

That success built traction. I started making decisions more rapidly and confidently in all areas of my life. When my girlfriend (now wife) brought up moving in together again, I didn’t freeze up. I thought about it, recognized it was the right next step for our relationship, and said yes. Best decision I ever made, by the way.

Today, I’m not completely free to decision-making anxiety – I don’t think anyone ever is – but I have tools to manage it that I learned from those hours dedicated to playing baseball games. I understand that sometimes you have to make decisions with limited information. I know that not every choice has to be ideal. And I trust that I can handle whatever consequences come from my decisions, good or bad.

It’s interesting to think that something as simple as playing video games ended up being such a effective tool for personal growth. But that’s the thing about learning – sometimes the most important lessons come from unexpected places. Baseball games didn’t just teach me about the sport; they taught me about confidence, risk-taking, and trust in myself. And honestly, I’m not sure I would have ever overcome my fear of making decisions without them.