Cereal Paralysis
When faced with infinite possibilities, we often find ourselves unable to act at all. Just like innocently wandering the cereal aisle at your local supermarket. You find yourself standing in front of an entire wall of options—organic granola, protein-packed oats, then there's one with a coked-up tiger on the front and another with a deranged toucan. After reading more labels than a scientist examining food safety regulations, you eventually just go with the same one you always get. But deep down, you can't help but think about what all the other cereals would be like. The infinite choices, rather than liberating you, leave you feeling like you're consistently missing out on something else.
Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom. The infamous line that sounds like it could either be a deep philosophical insight or an angsty teenager experience their first bout of existential dread. Written by Søren Kierkegaard, the phrase captures the paralysing effect of choice. When faced with infinite possibilities, we often find ourselves unable to act at all.
In his 1844 book, The Concept of Anxiety, Kierkegaard argues that anxiety arises from the realisation that we are free to shape our own lives. Imagine sitting in your room, thinking about all the things you could do with your life, and yet somehow, you do nothing. The sheer number of possibilities makes it difficult to commit to any one path. Because the moment you make a decision, you close off all other options. Just like when you decide to buy Cocoa Pops, you don't also end up buying whole grain oats.
This becomes more obvious as we get older. Every path we take—every career move, relationship, or creative pursuit—means there are paths we will never walk. We can't be everything. We can't do everything. And that can be terrifying. It's often easier to remain stuck in inaction, endlessly contemplating what you might do 'someday' instead of committing to something today. This is the dizziness of freedom.
But Kierkegaard goes further. He argues that people often escape this anxiety by imposing artificial restrictions on themselves. We create barriers that let us off the hook: I can't pursue my dream because I'm too old. I can't change careers because of financial obligations. I can't leave this relationship because I'm afraid of being alone. I can’t join a gym because I don’t know which one is best. These justifications serve as a way to avoid making a real decision. We find ourselves back in that cereal aisle, now deliberately ignoring entire sections because we decided five minutes ago that processed food is the devil—limitations we create to make choices easier. They allow us to cling to the comforting illusion that we could have done something remarkable—if only circumstances had been different.
This is why we often hear stories of people who dream of doing something great but never start. Because what if they tried and failed? What if they discovered that they weren't good enough? As long as the dream remains unrealised, it remains possible. But the moment you start, you risk proving yourself incapable. And so, people stay paralysed, choosing the safety of daydreams over the risk of reality.
Kierkegaard's solution is what he calls the 'leap of faith.' He insists that life is not a problem to be solved but something to be experienced. At some point, you must take responsibility for your choices. As Kierkegaard writes, "Learning to know anxiety is an adventure which every person [man] has to affront if he would not go to perdition either by not having known anxiety or by succumbing to it." This means embracing uncertainty, going all in on something without absolute certainty of success. Which can be terrifying because it removes the safety net of blaming external forces. If it fails, it's on us. But at the same time, this is what true freedom means: to take responsibility for our own life rather than making excuses for passivity.
To truly live, you must become your own master. You must impose your own limitations, not as an escape from responsibility, but as a way to give your life direction and meaning.
For Kierkegaard, true freedom isn't about endless options. It's about choosing one thing and fully committing to it. This is the cost of subjectivity. To be a fully realised individual means to take responsibility for your own choices, rather than hiding behind external prohibitions. This is what Kierkegaard means by taking the leap of faith—not blind optimism, but a conscious decision to embrace responsibility, to act without absolute certainty, and to impose on ourself the ethical framework that gives life meaning.
To dedicate ourselves fully to something is not to lose our freedom—it is to exercise it in its highest form. And in this sense, love itself is a leap of faith: a total commitment to something beyond ourself, which paradoxically makes us feel more alive.
The way to escape the anxiety of freedom is not to avoid making choices, nor is it to endlessly fantasise about hypothetical futures. But to take the leap of faith: to choose, commit, and take full responsibility for your life.
Because life isn't about staring endlessly at a wall of cereal options—it's about choosing a box, pouring yourself a bowl, and experiencing its taste for yourself.